Page 45 of The Art of Catching Feelings
It should’ve shocked her, some of the images that flashed through her mind as she touched herself. Briefly, she thought about something else,anythingelse, so she didn’t have to feel guilty later about all the ways she’d thought about him. She thought about that first night she’d started officially working for the Battery, when he’d handed her that clip. She imagined himbeing the one to tug her dress close to her body, fisting the fabric in his hand until he could look down and see every curve outlined through the material. She thought about him spitting, she imagined him spitting onher, right between her legs.
It was useless to resist these thoughts. She gave in to them, gave in to the heat building at the base of her spine, crying out when it finally exploded in a way that was decidedlynotquiet.
Afterward, she lay on her back, breathing heavily, her hand still resting on her lower stomach as she recovered. Through the phone, she could hear Chris grunt his own release, and the sound sent a flutter through her that almost made her want to reach back down and go again. Then she heard him say her name—only it wasn’t really her name.
“Duckie?”
She pushed off the bed, leaving her phone on the pillow while she headed into the bathroom to wash up. When she caught sight of herself in the mirror, her cheeks were flushed and her hair was tangled and wild around her face. She’d never even pulled her pants down or reached for one of the toys she’d started keeping in her nightstand drawer. The whole thing had taken, what, five minutes? It felt like a fever dream, and her body was still hot with fever.
By the time she got back to her phone, the call was still open but new text messages had come in.
C: That was…fuck.
C: You there?
C: Duckie?
Her hands were trembling slightly when she picked up the phone, reaching over to grab one of her earbuds to put in, which she probably should’ve done from the start.
D: Here, sorry.
C: Everything good?
That was almost too big a question to answer. But she knew he was referring specifically to what they’d just done, and she didn’t want him to think she hadn’t enjoyed herself there when she had. She definitely had.
D: Yeah, all good.
Over the phone, he cleared his throat. “Can you still hear me?”
Yeah.
She expected him to say something else, but there was such a long pause before he spoke again that it managed to surprise her a little. “Can I ask you a question?” he asked finally.
Okay.
“What’s…” He stopped, as if needing to regroup before he got the question out. “What’s actually going on here? What are we doing?”
It was basically what Kim had been asking her earlier that night, and Daphne didn’t have an answer now any more than she had then. She knew she was getting in dangerously deep, where she might not be able to pull herself out. She also didn’t know that she wanted out. It was a confusing place to be.
“I understand being cautious online,” he said. “Believe me, I do. My agent doesn’t think I should be talking to you at all…”
He’d talked to hisagentabout her?
“And Randy has some elaborate theory about how you’re either some Russian mail-order bride or else a Russian bot trying to hack the election through my phone? It’s honestly a little confusing and I don’t know where he got Russia from in the first place.”
He’d talked toRandy Camineroabout her? She’d just interviewed the guy about an amazing double play he’d turned to end a game. She could actually hear him going off about Russian bots, and the idea made her smile. Then her smile dropped again, as she thought about the implications of this. Fuck, she was in so deep.
“The point is,” Chris continued. “You won’t tell me your name—a Googleable, verifiable version of your name. Meanwhile you know exactly who I am. We’re on the phone right now and you won’ttalkto me. I just heard you come and I’ve barely heard your voice. I’ve offered to get you tickets to a game—I wouldloveto get you tickets to a game. I would love to meet you, wherever or whenever that has to be. Even just as friends, although you know I’m interested in you as more than that. And sometimes I get the impression you’re interested right back. I don’t know what to do with what we just did if you’renotinterested back. Maybe I shouldn’t have said any of this, maybe I’ll feel stupid in the morning. But do you see where I’m coming from? Or am I completely off base here?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Everything he was saying made perfect sense. It wasn’t fair for her to keep playing these games with him when he’d been nothing but honest with her.
She could say it, right now. Speak into the phone and just say,My name is Daphne…and let that fall into place. Or she could say,At first I didn’t want you to know I was your heckler, but now I don’t want you to know that we work together…
But then she thought of him in real life. He was hard to read. She couldn’t tell how he felt abouther, the sideline reporter, Daphne Brink. He’d been kind to offer to help her out, and he’d seemed sincere. He’d given her a few legitimate pieces of information, from the Battery’s home run celebration to where to stand to avoid getting hit by a foul ball. But it’s not like he’d seemedintoher. She was just a person he had to deal with as part of his job, and for all she knew, he still resented it.
I think I should tell you about my divorce, she typed.But it’s probably easier if we’re both just texting.
“Oh,” he said, almost like an involuntary verbal tic, like if she hadn’t happened to have him on the phone like this she wouldn’thave known that was his first reaction at all. “Okay. I guess I’ll…hang up now?”
