Pitbabe S2, Chapter 25 pg 4

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 25 pg 4

   My attention was pulled back to the phone screen as it lit up again. This time, it was his face, with the name “Babe” and a white heart emoji I kept meaning to remove but always forgot. More importantly, though, was the red text that read “Emergency.”

   Snap!

   It was like the part of my brain focused on the live broadcast shut down instantly. I forgot everything, reached for the phone, and pressed to answer, but before I could, the call cut off.

   That only made my heart race faster, pounding so hard I could barely breathe. Panic surged, lodging in my chest. I tried calling back, but no one picked up, even though they’d just called me less than a minute ago.

   “Charlie! What the hell…?”

   I heard Liu’s voice shouting my name loudly before her next words faded into a whisper and vanished. I didn’t blame her for raising her voice. Me suddenly bolting from the camera, grabbing my car keys, and running out of the building wasn’t something anyone could understand without an explanation.

   But right now, I didn’t have time to explain anything.

   Because that emergency call… was from Babe.

   

   BABE:

   The sound of the front door code being entered rang out. I glanced at my phone—14:36 on the screen, seven minutes since I’d made the call.

   “Babe!”

   And the shouting of one of the few people who knew the code to this house followed just seconds later.

   “Broke a record, huh?” I turned toward the door but didn’t get up from the sofa. My sudden visitor was panting, drenched in sweat, staring at me with a face so contorted it was like his eyes, nose, and mouth had swapped places. “Seven minutes… you definitely ran red lights.”

   “What happened? Are you okay?” Charlie rushed toward me, visibly panicked, scanning me from head to toe as if checking I hadn’t left my left arm or right leg somewhere else.

   “What?” I asked, feigning innocence.

   “You called me just now. Emergency call.”

   “Oh! That,” I snapped my fingers with a loud pop. “I was gonna ask about that sushi place you always order from for me. What’s it called? I’m craving it but can’t remember the name.”

   Charlie went silent. He stared at me, his brows knitting together like he was furiously piecing together the story in his head.

   “That’s it?” he asked. “You called to ask about a sushi place?”

   “Yeah.”

   “An emergency?”

   “Of course it’s an emergency. How is it not? I’m starving right now. I haven’t eaten anything all day.”

   I spoke with a smug, clueless air, but inside, I was having the time of my life. I knew exactly what he was doing. Of course I did—I watch every one of his livestreams. That “emergency” call, plus the nearly ten missed calls from his number afterward, were all part of my plan to pull him away from the camera and get him here.

   Charlie, hearing my response, seemed at a loss for words. He stared at me, mouth agape, blinking rapidly like a storm had blown into his eyes. Then he raised both hands to cover his face, turned away, and paced in place, stomping his feet. He was like a kettle that had been sitting on the stove for too long, steam now radiating from his entire body.

   Charlie was the kettle.

   And I… was the flame.

   “When are you going to stop doing this?” Charlie spun back to face me, his eyes hard and his voice just as sharp, as if he’d forgotten the sweet tone he used to use with me. I don’t blame him, though. I knew from the start he’d be pissed that I interrupted his important moment. But honestly, for someone so smart, how did he not see this was a trap? “It’s starting to not be funny anymore.”

   Why, Charlie?

   Why did you come rushing over so recklessly just because of one phone call? I thought you were smarter than that.

   “You’re not having fun, but I’m having a blast,” I shrugged, leaning back against the couch, completely at ease.

   “Don’t you realize you’re going too far?” Charlie’s voice grew louder, his face flushed red, clearly showing his anger was boiling over, blood rushing to his head. He was like a kettle at full boil, about to let out a shrill, spine-chilling whistle. “How can you do this, Babe? You’re playing with people’s feelings!”

   “Oh! You want to talk about playing with feelings? Sure! How about when you deliberately tricked me? Or when you lied to me about Tony? Or when you faked your death? Which one should we start with?”

   “I had my reasons,” Charlie said, his voice low, like he was struggling to rein in his rage.

   “And I have mine.”

   “Reasons? What kind of stupid reasons? You’re just trying to get back at me, that’s all!”

   But he didn’t succeed.

   Charlie was far less in control of his anger than usual.

   “And so what? Are your reasons supposed to sound better? Everything you did was because…”

   “I did it because I love you, Babe!”

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