by Ana Shay
After a few quick flashes, Tate says, “Thanks Catty,” dropping Phoebe off on the floor, watching her run back towards her parents. I fully expected him to follow behind, but instead, he turns and places a palm on my shoulder. The connection sends tingles down my spine, making my toes twinkle. It feels inappropriate to be aroused while I’m dressed as a fish and making enough sweat for said fish to live in it… but I kind of am.
“Catty,” His serious tone cut through the noise. “I just wanted to say thanks for all the advice,” Advice? I rack my brain trying to think about what the heck he’s talking about. “You know, about the girl.” I jumped at that reference, looking deep into his eyes to check he’s not making a joke because he knows it’s me under here. There’s no amusement, just full-on sincerity. “Things are going well.” He nodded, almost deliriously happy. “She seems to be warming up to me.” I find it interesting that he categorizes dry humping and allowing him to stick his hand down my pants as ‘warming up.’ I’d consider that pretty damn hot but each to their own.
A smirk drew across his face, and for a split-second, I wondered if he knows what I’m thinking, but that’s impossible. He has no idea I’m under here. I nodded my big old fish head as my way to say you’re welcome, because what else am I supposed to do?
There’s a rumble of noise as the other players walk towards us. “Tate, we need you.” Grayson groused. His tall frame and surly attitude looking out of place at the party.
“Yeah, I’ll be two seconds.” He replied and I sigh a relieved breath, thinking I could go about my catfish business, but weirdly he’s still watching at me. “Hey Catty, can I ask you a favor?” I nodded, wondering what the kids must think about Tate having such a serious conversation with the team Mascot. “Bottom of the seventh tomorrow. Could you possibly stand on top of the dugout?”
I don’t ask questions; I just nod. His shoulders relax, and he slaps me on the back. “Great. Thanks so much. Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waves off, walking backward. I flap my fishy fin at him and get back to playing with the kids.
My back relaxed down onto the dirty subway seat. I was tired, hot, and sweaty. Ready for a shower and bed, I didn’t bother staying in the office because I was in that Catty costume for over 12 hours. I wonder if that’s a record. Do the people at Disneyland wear their costumes for that long? I could barely answer my own thoughts because my body and bones were so tired.
The party finished a couple of hours after the game, and once the players and kids were gone, Mary and I were left to clean up. I ignored her probing questions about Tate because, frankly, I haven’t been able to see him, and I’m starting to get a little sad about it. I didn’t think Josh could work me harder, but he always seemed to find a way. I’ve barely been able to see my bed, let alone think about Tate.
By the time we finished cleaning, it was already dark, and Mary forced me out of the office before Josh could see me. Hence why I left with no shower, and I’m starting to regret it. I stink. I can literally smell myself, and it’s disgusting. The only good thing that happened today is that I missed the after-work rush, so at least no one is sitting next to me on the train. They’d probably think I was trying to gas them.
When I took my phone out to check the time, I was pleasantly surprised to find a text from Tate.
Tate: Are you working late again? I need to see you.
A chill runs down my spine through my damp clothes, reminding me that I soaked through them all today. I had a hard time putting my shoe on because my throbbing ankle is at least two times its average size now. I thought my rolled ankle would be fine in flats, but apparently not. I’m a wreck, and as much as I want Tate to kiss it and make it all better, I don’t want him to see me like this.
Cali: Still at work, not sure when I’ll finish. Might have to raincheck again. Sorry.
I lied. It’s not like he’s going to be waiting outside my apartment for me.
Tate: Playing hard to get… Two can play at that game.
My tired eyes re-read the message, confused, and look up at the top of the carriage. Two more stops until I reach mine and I can get some sleep. I can’t wait.
The phone buzzed in my hand, and I gasped so loudly, I woke up the homeless person sleeping on the other end of the carriage. “Sorry,” I mumbled loud enough for him to hear. My eyes darted around, hoping no one thought I was looking at porn on my phone in public. When I was certain no one was watching, I took another look, fully expecting it not to be there so I could laugh at my delirious mind making it all up.
My eyes bugged out as my brain caught up to what I was looking at. Tate’s tanned, toned, hard, and slightly wet abs glared back at me tangled in his silky black sheets. I know they’re his abs because I’ve lovingly studied them for years, and he has this mole under his left pec. It’s there, taunting me. That’s not the part of the picture my brain is trying to get used to, though. Right at the bottom of the photo, his hand was stuffed down his baseball pants. Tate, lying in bed, topless with his baseball pants on, holding his dick. My face was hot as I thought about the most inappropriate things.
I nearly pee my pants when the phone goes again, a new incoming message from Tate popping up. Do I have enough nerve to check it here? We’re nearing my stop. I could wait until I get home. Another message comes through from him. I chew my bottom lip and look at the homeless man who’s still sleeping. There’s no one else here. Another buzz. I can’t take it. I open it up.
Tate: Thinking of California…
Tate: And her hot wet beaches.
He put a little beach emoji next to my name. Embarrassment flares through my body because even though these messages are just for me, no guy has ever been so forthright in letting me know how I make them feel. It makes me hot. Hotter than I’d like to admit. Even to myself. I push my thighs together and close my eyes when another text comes through. This is not the time to feel hot and bothered.
My body relaxed when my stop was called. I jumped up, scurrying to the doors, and shove my phone in my bag. By the time I’ve showered and am ready for bed, I give my cellphone another glance.
Tate: Since you didn’t respond, I’ve either offended you, or you’re letting off steam, so to speak. I hope it’s the latter. If it’s the former, I’m sorry. I just wanted to see you.
Tate: Okay, I think I’ve definitely offended you. I’m sorry. Can we start over? I’m Tate, a tall, roguishly handsome baseball player that would like to take you out on
a second date.
Tate: Wait, I just realized, if we’re starting over, it would be the first date. So yet again, I’m back to a first date request.
Tate: [Groundhog picture]
Tate: You there?
Bubbles popped up, I knew he was typing, but I wanted to get in there first and put him out of his misery.
Cali: Sorry, T, I’m here.
Tate: Thank fuck. I thought my abs scared you away.
Cali: Never. I’ve seen it all before.
Tate: Not all of it… Yet.
A small smile played on my lips, and I’m reminded that although he’s seen me naked, I’ve yet to see him out of his jeans in person. I couldn’t wait. I sink further into my bed, my eyelids dropping because I’m so exhausted. Another buzz on my nightstand jolts me awake. There’s no way I’m going to be able to maintain a fully functioning conversation in the next 5 minutes.
Tate: We’ve got a lunchtime game tomorrow. Will you let me take you out to dinner?
Cali: Sure. I can’t wait, but I’ve got to sleep T. I’m exhausted. Night.
I quickly typed out the last message, too tired to dwell on the shortness of the response. I’ll explain it all tomorrow when my brain is functioning better. Within seconds, I was fast asleep, dreaming of Tate’s abs.
Chapter 16
“Cali, have you finished the marketing budget yet?” I hunched further into my desk, hiding my face as I rolled my eyes. No, because I was too busy doing edits for the website, like you asked. Oh, and then there’s that whol
e pretending to be a fish thing you make me do every day.
Huffing out a breath, I plastered on a fake smile, jumping up to meet his gaze. Is it wrong to imagine your boss tarred and feathered? “Not yet; I will try, and have it done for tomorrow morning,” I said in my sickeningly sweet tone. I had sunk back down into my seat, thinking that was the end of our conversation until his head popped up over my cubicle.
“I need it for our meeting with Jonah at 9 am.” He stressed. Of course, I can see how this is going to go down. I estimate the marketing budget; Josh takes it to Jonah, his boss, and claims he did it if Jonah loves it. If Jonah hates it, Josh can blame me even though he checked and signed it off himself. He is so infuriating.
“No problem, it will be in your inbox when you arrive in the office tomorrow, so you can check over it,” I emphasized, almost passive-aggressively with a smile. “I’ll have to work late to get it done, but it will be finished.”
He tilted his head, squaring me up. “Well, you wouldn’t have to stay late if you weren’t out having fun most of the day.”
My eyes widen, and I nearly choked on my own spit. Is he implying that I’m enjoying being Catty? Okay, so maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world, and it sure as hell beats seeing his face, but it’s still very much work for me. Why my other work isn’t given to Tim? I’ll never know. He’s still sitting around the office, nursing his injury, and getting paid while I’m doing double the load and getting none of the return. It sucks. Balls. Big hairy ones. “I only do what the team requests. No fun to be had here. It is a job, after all.” I said sarcastically because I’m tired, and my resolve is cracking.
He snorted. “Make sure you have the work in my inbox by 7 am. If not, we’ll have to have a discussion about your attitude and performance.” He walked off, not even giving me a second glance. All the breath caught in my throat, and I didn’t move. That one act of rebellion could cost me my whole job.
I looked back at the screen, ignoring anyone coming over to talk. Apparently, our conversation was loud enough that everyone heard it in the office. My eyes were stinging. Not just from tiredness but from holding back tears. Josh shouldn’t get to me. He’s an idiot. But I feel powerless and hopeless and stupid.
I kept my head down the rest of the day, ignoring Mary waving goodbye and all my colleagues' footsteps leaving for the day. I miss those days. When my evenings were empty, and I had the choice over all the fun things I wanted to do.
My eyes squinted, trying to make sense of the excel sheet in front of me. I’ve been staring at it for so long that the numbers were joining together and jumping around the page, making me worry I’m inputting the numbers incorrectly. I didn’t realize just how much budget management was involved in Marketing, and I cursed myself, knowing I should have paid more attention in my stats class. I didn’t bother checking the time; I know it’s late. The ceiling light is motion-sensitive, and around every ten minutes, I’m clouded in darkness. If I didn’t wave my hand above my head every now and again, it would automatically turn off. I closed my tired eyes wishing for my bed. Which is saying something because my mattress has some serious unsightly spikes.
Typing in some numbers, I barely cared if they were right at this point. I’m exhausted and sad. I want a break. I want my bed, and most importantly, I want to see Tate. Between us, we’ve had no time to see each other. He’s either on the field or on a bus. And I’m either dressed as a fish or in the office. The last time I saw him, I woke up in his arms, fully dressed in his bed. It was magical, and I wanted to stay there, but I knew if I arrived even a minute late, Josh would count that as an insubordination attempt. Dick.
The closest I’ve gotten to a night off and seeing Tate was last night when I was dressed as a Fish with all the kids dancing around us. My back straightened, and I open my eyes wider, trying to muster up some more energy to finish this damn spreadsheet. That’s why I’m here, and I’m doing this. It’s for the Fish. I love the Fish. Josh can go stick a carrot up his ass for all I care. I’m not doing any of this for him.
I try my hardest to focus, but my head is pounding. I can’t remember the last time I had a drink, and my whole body feels dehydrated. I leaned my head back, covering my face with my palms to force my scratchy eyes shut. They were so dry; it was like sandpaper rubbing across my irises. But I needed a break, if only for a second.
“Cali,” My lips curve, imagining his soothing voice helps ease the tension in my bones; his deep baritone fills my body, warming me up. “I thought I’d find you up here.” His piney smell takes over my senses, and I’m back in his bedroom, his hungry eyes on me, and I’m ready. Ready for everything he has to offer.
Warm hands wrap around my shoulders, shocking me back into the room. My eyes burst open, only to be met with a familiar pair of hazel brown ones staring down at me. “Tate?” I jump, nearly falling out of my chair. How the hell did this happen? Did my mind magic him up?
A grin spreads across his face as he watches me try to regain control of my senses and surroundings. I stand up on jittery legs like a newborn baby calf and shove my chair to the side, hoping it hides the Tate Sorenson Bobbleheads on my desk… The collection may have grown since he was here, and I’d rather he didn’t notice. “Hey, Cali. I’ve missed you.” He cooed, and I nearly wet my panties. Is that normal? Maybe I need to mention it at my next OBGYN appointment.
“What are you doing here?” My voice was flustered, my hair sticking to my already hot and sweaty forehead. I looked like a wreck, but I could only thank my lucky stars that I took a shower before coming back to my desk, so I at least smelt okay. The Catfish t-shirt he was wearing stretched across his expansive chest, showing off all that work he does at the gym, and my fingers tingled, wanting to touch his corded arms.
He answered by stepping closer into me, crowding my space. I tiptoed backward, feeling the wood of the desk poking at my backside. He didn’t stop, and the only way I could gain some space and clarity was to perch my butt on the desk, squashing the keys of my keyboard. I really hope I have autosave on that excel sheet turned on.
Tate chuckled, watching me squirm when he placed his hands on either side of my hips, leaning in and stealing all that space I just created. The smell of his body wash tickled my nose, and his proximity sent tingles straight to my core. I swear the things he did to me were unnatural. “I’ve been blowing up your phone for the last hour, Cali.” He drawled out my name, so I could see his pink tongue poke out between his lips. The same tongue that drove me wild when he kissed me the other night. I could barely focus, too deliriously lost in his presence. “We were supposed to go on a date tonight. Remember?”
I shook my head, doing my best to focus, and rolled my eyes, trying to ease any tension from the room. How did I forget? “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.” Tate continued. At least he didn’t think I was purposely standing him up.
“It’s not been that long.” I quipped. After all, it was only a few hours ago that he had his arm around my shoulders when he batted in one of Austin’s runs. I may have been dressed as a fish, but it still counted.
“It’s been three weeks.” He deadpanned as his eyes flicked down to my perfectly pressed pencil skirt. He groaned, biting his lip, and looking to the sky. “Did I ever tell you I had a thing for secretaries since I met you?” He was stealing all the air in the room, forcing me closer so I could share his. He dropped his head back down, holding my gaze and leaning in.
We’d barely said a few sentences to each other, but the whole room was so charged with energy, it was nearly vibrating. Something that only seemed to happen when I was in his presence. His mouth was close to mine. Nearly touching, and I so desperately wanted to feel the softness of his lips. I’d almost forgotten what they felt like in all my work haze. Goosebumps appeared on my skin, anticipating his touch.
Ding! Ding!
“Crap!” My noisy computer brought me back to the room, and I pushed him back, my feet hitting the ground as I bent over to check the scr
een. I cannot screw this up. Luckily, it was just a save reminder, so I quickly shut the spreadsheet in fear I would do more damage if I left it up. Tate kissed the exposed skin on the back of my neck while I typed. Damn. It’s like he knows exactly which buttons to press to turn me on. His hands spread across my hips, and I tilted my body back, leaning my head on his shoulder to give him better access to my neck. I reached my hand over to play with his still wet hair and closed my eyes, enjoying the stolen moment, knowing it wouldn’t last for long.
“Come to mine for dinner tonight, Cali?” His voice was filled with heady intention as he whispered in my ear. A smile played across my lips; I hoped I was on the menu. But then my eyes shot open, and I remembered that stupid spreadsheet needs to be done for 7 am. I bent my body forward, bumping Tate with my butt to push him back, and opened the spreadsheet again, doing my best to focus with Tate radiating all his Baseball player hotness behind me.
“I can’t tonight, I’ve got this big meeting in the morning, and my boss will kill me if I don’t get this done.”
“Mary won’t care. You’re working your ass off, and they don’t even pay you for the pleasure.” He retorted. “Do they even ask you to clock your hours, so they know how much time of yours they’re taking?” I ignored the question because the answer hurt. No. He seemed to take my silence and position as an invitation. He sprawled his hands across my butt, gently stroking it, and every now and again digging his fingers in.
“Mary wouldn’t care, but Josh would,” I stressed, still staring at the numbers, and ignoring the throbbing sensation that was paving its way down my center. He waited patiently as I tapped the keyboard, gently kissing my neck every now and again. With every touch, he knew he was closer to breaking my resolve. When I finished a row of numbers on the sheet, I relented and spun on my heel to face him.
He smiled broadly as his eyes flittered across my face. “Take a break. I’ll get you dinner in the mall. You can come back here, finish up, and then when you’re done, you can come to mine.” He had it all figured out, and the idea of food had my stomach growling, but I knew if I left this office, I would never come back.