Page 16 of Mr. Match

I wanted that. So bad. I wanted that fairytale childhood that he was given. And I needed things back then. So many things.

I got them. I got them all. But they were more expensive than I imagined. I gave up more than I ever got back in return.

It was a mistake, I realize. Many mistakes all in succession. One after another, after another.

I take a deep breath and upload my video. No title, no comment, just the footage. And then I log out, close my laptop, and walk to the window. I imagine him the way he looked this morning. Standing there. Confident, secure, satisfied.

Am I angry? Yes, but not because of his words, or his experience, or his control, or his entitlement.

I’m angry because his request turned me on.

Chapter Seven - OLIVER

An hour goes by. Then two. Ariel and the office ladies return, get back to work, and still nothing from my old acquaintance.

So I do what I should’ve done immediately. Look her ass up.

Katya Kalashova. Twenty-two years old.

God, how can she still be so damn young?

No education found, but I already know what happened with Harvard. It was her whole excuse back when I confronted her about her… job. Said she needed money for school.

I half suspected it, but when I do a search on her IP address from the Hook-Me-Up site, it comes back as Fort Collins.

Of course it does.

If there’s one telling detail gleaned from my past experiences with Kat, it’s that every move she makes has purpose.

She wouldn’t bother contacting me if she wasn’t nearby. She knows I’m a paranoid motherfucker and I don’t make business deals online.

I stand up and go to the window. The afternoon is waning and the sunset is getting ready to make the mountains bloom with orange, and pink, and yellow.

She’s probably very close by.

I scan the buildings all up and down College Avenue. The street levels are all shops but the upper floors are expensive apartments and lofts.

She could be in any one of them. I scan the upper floors, looking for her. She could be there, or there, or there.

I step back from the window and press a button on the wall to close the curtains, my paranoia getting the best of me as I look longingly at my laptop sitting on my desk.

Ding, motherfucker. Ding me with a notification that she responded.

I’m half afraid that I scared her away and half afraid she’s really gonna do it. But she’s an addiction for me. Some people have drugs, or alcohol, or cigarettes.

I have Katya Kalashova.

What will she ask for?

What will she want from me?

Sex? Oh, fuck, yeah. But that’s not business. Not for me. If I get close enough to touch her, it’s all over. I’m gonna fuck her where we stand.

Money? I can’t see it. She never wanted my money, even when I tried to sneak it into her bank account.

Then what? Why is she here? Why is she trying to get my attention? Why now, in the middle of all this Mister shit. Why now?

My phone rings on my desk, almost making me jump. I tab the accept button and sink into my chair. “I figured you’d be calling.”