Page 24 of Catch Me If You Can

“It’s eight o’clock.”

“Feels later.”

He laughs. “Another drink? Room service? Brooklyn Nine-Nine?”

I shrug. “Sure. But if they don’t have chicken fingers, I’m punching you.”

“Chicken fingers? What are you, five?”

“Say what you want. Chicken fingers with Thai chili sauce slap.”

He grins. “I’ll get calamari.”

“It’s eight o’clock at night. Who just orders calamari?” I laugh as he hands me another drink.

“Don’t knock it until you try it.” He pats his stomach dramatically. I slap it in response.

“Ow!” he yelps, lunging toward me. An embarrassing scream-laugh escapes my lips as his fingers start tickling me mercilessly.Not this.

I try to get away but it’s too late—he’s on a roll, and he knows exactly what he’s doing. This is exactly the shit he used to pull when we used to hangout and it looks like he hasn’t grown out of it.

He lunges with a mischievous grin, fingers flying to my sides like he’s on a mission, and I can’t stop laughing. I want to stop but I can’t. I thrash and twist, trying to escape, but he’s relentless. His fingers dig under my shirt, skating across my ribs, grazing my sensitive skin. It’s too much. It’s all too much. I can feel the goosebumps spread across my body from head to toe. My legs kick out beneath me, and I collapse onto the couch.

“Caleb!” I gasp through laughter, breathless, half-wheezing.

My skin burns where he touches, and not just from the sensation. There’s something deeper stirring now. Something dangerous.

I can’t breathe, can’t think. He’s everywhere.

His bare skin brushes mine as he leans closer, the warmth of his body pressing into me. I feel the strength in his thighs caging me in, the weight of him grounding me in place. My laughter fades into shallow, shaky breaths. My chest rises and falls rapidly. The air between us shifts.

Then, suddenly, it hits me like a punch to the gut.

A rush of memories slams into me, vivid like it was just yesterday.

I remember the way his jaw flexed as he kissed her. His hands were tight around her waist, pulling her in like he couldn’t get close enough.

My stomach flips. My chest tightens.

And I remember watching him—watching him, not her—completely fixated on the way his muscles tensed as he held herclose. The way his lips moved against hers—slow, then deeper. The way his eyes opened and locked onto mine. As if it was some joke. As if he was sucking me in as he sucked down her kisses.

I should’ve looked away. I should’ve turned and left.

But I couldn’t.

Because in that moment, all I could think was how I wanted to be the one pulled in.

I wantedhishands onme.

“Stop. Get the fuck off of me!” I say it louder, firmer this time, batting his hands away with more force.

He freezes. “Shit. Sorry—”

“Just… shut up and order the food,” I say, getting up. “You’re paying.”

I escape to the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

Against the cool wooden door, I try to steady my breathing.

---