Read Online Playing Chase (Against The Wall) by Julie Prestsater - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Julie Prestsater
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cat-shit incident. Apparently, Lucy has been emailing me—my fake email that the girls’ control—apologizing about the warm smelly present her felines left in my shoes. The girls think it’s hilarious. Mel even left a piece of fake plastic shit on my chair at work this morning. I have to give them credit for their pranks. If I wasn’t the target, I would think all this shit—no pun intended—is frickin’ funny. But I am the target, and I have better things to worry about right now.
Like a small brunette with wavy curls and gorgeous brown eyes , who’s under the weather.
Tiffany lives in a small cottage -style house in a nice quiet neighborhood. It’s in an historic district. Most of the residents are retirees. Many of them are currently sitting on their porches giving me the evil eye for invading their street.
Slowly, I get out of my car and gather the grocery bags. I start up the walkway to Tiffany’s front door , when one of her neighbors calls out to me.
“Hey there, young man.” An older woman peers at me over her romance novel : One that has a bare-chested faceless man on the cover. “Are you here to see our Tiffany?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I hold up the groceries. “She’s not feeling well so I brought her some soup and some cold medicine.”
She flashes me a pleased grin. “Well isn’t that nice of you. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”
“Thank you. You have a nice day.” I give her a nod and a wink and she smiles back at me.
Tiffany’s door is in front of me and I suddenly feel like I should run. How many times have I told myself this can’t happen? And yet, here I am standing on her doorstep dying to see her beautiful eyes peer back at me, so I can see that she is okay.
What the hell. I knock loudly and wait for an answer. Shit. She’s probably still asleep. What am I thinking? She said she wanted to rest , and now here I am waking her ass up. Could I be any more insensitive?
I must raise my hand and stop myself from knocking on her door about five more times before I turn to walk away. Then, I realize I still have all the things I bought for her so I turn back to leave them on the big outdoor chair sitting on her porch.
I’m just about to set the flowers down when I hear the door open.
“Mr. Marino?” She glances my way with her brows furrowed. “Chase?”
I must look like one of those old cartoons, standing here with stars in my eyes just from looking at her. She’s wearing a big hoodie, sweatpants and furry purple socks. Her hair is pulled into a messy ponytail on the top of her head. Her eyes have dark circles underneath them. And she still looks gorgeous.
“Hey,” is all that will come out of my mouth.
Tiffany soaks in the sight of me, her eyes traveling to the bags on her chair and the flowers in my hand. “Want to come in?”
My mouth doesn’t move at first. I try speaking but like always, I’m tongue -tied when it comes to Tiffany.
Instead of saying anything, I scoop up the bags and carry them into her house.
“What are you doing here?” she asks. “I told you I don’t want to get you sick.”
The kitchen is visible from her front door so I pass her by to set all the stuff down. She follows me. “Hello. Are you going to say anything?”
“I got a flu shot. I’m not going to get sick.”
“That’s what I thought,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But here I am.”
“It’s normal. My first five or six years or so of teaching, I always got sick at about this time every year. It takes your body a long time to get used to being around all of the constant germs.”
She helps me unpack the items smiling up at me when I glance her way. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“I was worried about you.” I try to avoid making eye contact, because once I do, I know I’m going to want to take her into my arms and hold her, touch my palm to her forehead and check for a fever, brush away the fine strands of hair caressing her cheeks. “Want some
Like a small brunette with wavy curls and gorgeous brown eyes , who’s under the weather.
Tiffany lives in a small cottage -style house in a nice quiet neighborhood. It’s in an historic district. Most of the residents are retirees. Many of them are currently sitting on their porches giving me the evil eye for invading their street.
Slowly, I get out of my car and gather the grocery bags. I start up the walkway to Tiffany’s front door , when one of her neighbors calls out to me.
“Hey there, young man.” An older woman peers at me over her romance novel : One that has a bare-chested faceless man on the cover. “Are you here to see our Tiffany?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I hold up the groceries. “She’s not feeling well so I brought her some soup and some cold medicine.”
She flashes me a pleased grin. “Well isn’t that nice of you. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”
“Thank you. You have a nice day.” I give her a nod and a wink and she smiles back at me.
Tiffany’s door is in front of me and I suddenly feel like I should run. How many times have I told myself this can’t happen? And yet, here I am standing on her doorstep dying to see her beautiful eyes peer back at me, so I can see that she is okay.
What the hell. I knock loudly and wait for an answer. Shit. She’s probably still asleep. What am I thinking? She said she wanted to rest , and now here I am waking her ass up. Could I be any more insensitive?
I must raise my hand and stop myself from knocking on her door about five more times before I turn to walk away. Then, I realize I still have all the things I bought for her so I turn back to leave them on the big outdoor chair sitting on her porch.
I’m just about to set the flowers down when I hear the door open.
“Mr. Marino?” She glances my way with her brows furrowed. “Chase?”
I must look like one of those old cartoons, standing here with stars in my eyes just from looking at her. She’s wearing a big hoodie, sweatpants and furry purple socks. Her hair is pulled into a messy ponytail on the top of her head. Her eyes have dark circles underneath them. And she still looks gorgeous.
“Hey,” is all that will come out of my mouth.
Tiffany soaks in the sight of me, her eyes traveling to the bags on her chair and the flowers in my hand. “Want to come in?”
My mouth doesn’t move at first. I try speaking but like always, I’m tongue -tied when it comes to Tiffany.
Instead of saying anything, I scoop up the bags and carry them into her house.
“What are you doing here?” she asks. “I told you I don’t want to get you sick.”
The kitchen is visible from her front door so I pass her by to set all the stuff down. She follows me. “Hello. Are you going to say anything?”
“I got a flu shot. I’m not going to get sick.”
“That’s what I thought,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But here I am.”
“It’s normal. My first five or six years or so of teaching, I always got sick at about this time every year. It takes your body a long time to get used to being around all of the constant germs.”
She helps me unpack the items smiling up at me when I glance her way. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“I was worried about you.” I try to avoid making eye contact, because once I do, I know I’m going to want to take her into my arms and hold her, touch my palm to her forehead and check for a fever, brush away the fine strands of hair caressing her cheeks. “Want some
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