I catch sight of him out of the corner of my eye and have to work to contain the shiver that threatens to take over my body. Graham’s laughing at something Julia’s dad has said, head thrown back and chest heaving. The muscles in his arms flex when he brings his hand to his face. Whatever Steve’s telling Graham must be hilarious because he’s got him howling. I resist the urge to walk over to them and slide my arms around Graham’s waist, to touch him in a way that would let everyone know what’s going on. No, Cassie. Keep your hands to yourself. As long as I keep a safe distance from him things should be okay. Unfortunately, right now a million miles away would feel too close. Across Julia’s living room is most certainly not enough space to keep my body from responding to the magnet that is Graham Stevens.
And apparently I’m not the only one drawn to Graham’s boisterous laughter. Both of Zach’s sisters magically appear on either side of him before I have a chance to move. Julia’s father’s retelling his joke and they’re laughing along with Graham. One of them brushes her hand along Graham’s bicep and I swallow a growl. There is no world in which Graham Stevens is mine, but my brain can’t seem to convince my body. Hands off, bitch is the only thing I’ll be capable of saying if those fingers don’t make a hasty retreat.
Julia saves me from my thought of an epic throw down by shoving two bottles of champagne in my hands. “Here, can you take these over to the table?” she asks me, completely unaware of my angst. The labels are covered up with large white stickers and all identifying markers have been removed.
“What the hell?” I gesture to the defaced bottles. “You took off the labels?”
“You can’t have a blind taste test if people know what they’re drinking,” Julia tells me, exasperated. “Can you just put those on the table? I’ll bring out the comment cards when we bring out the glasses.”
How Julia has time to put together an event that requires removing the labels from thirty bottles of champagne I’ll never know. I can barely keep clean sheets on my bed.
The main reason for my dirty sheets slides up next to me as I’m putting the bottles out. Graham leans over to look at the labels, letting his entire torso brush up against mine. My nipples tighten. I’m sure everyone can now see them through my shirt.
“How’s my little firecracker?” He keeps his body pressed against mine for longer than necessary. “Thinking about what we talked about?”
Sadly, our conversation is all I’ve been thinking about. But Graham isn’t going to be excited to hear what I have to say no matter how excited my body is to see him.
“The answer’s still no.” I don’t turn to look at him. I don’t want to see disappointment on his face. Truth be told I don’t want to risk seeing relief either.
“You aren’t even going to think about it?” He pulls one of the bottles forward and pretends to scrutinize it. “You aren’t even giving the idea a chance.”
“I don’t do that. You know this. We’ve talked about it.”
“But you’ve never had me ask, right? That’s a whole different situation.” Graham brushes his hand over mine, reaching for the other bottle. I involuntarily let the fingers on my hand flex. He threads his fingers through mine for a split second and then lets me go. “Don’t say no just yet. Give it a little more time.” And then he walks away, giving me a view of his perfect ass.
But there’s no way I can say yes to what Graham’s offering. We both know it even if he thinks he can convince me otherwise. The answer is always going to be no for more reasons than I’d like to even bother to count. He wants something I don’t give to anyone. Something I especially can’t give to him.
Graham wants to take me on a date.
13
Graham
I don’t know why asking Cassie to leave the house with me has her jumping out of her skin. Sure, I asked her when she was naked, but I’m serious about not hiding out. And, okay, it wasn’t fair to ask her two seconds after I made her come all over my face, but it’s not like there’s a perfect time to ask your fuck buddy to try something a little more conventional, right? I like her. The sex is amazing. Why wouldn’t we want to see if our relationship could be more than that?
One look around this room has me remembering all the reasons Cassie wants to keep us a secret. As we all negotiate our seats in Julia’s living room, I can see Cassie working to put as much distance between us as possible. She told me she doesn’t date. Nothing personal. And then she kicked me out of her apartment because no sleepovers. Fuck that. I muscle my way across the room and take the seat next to her on the couch.
The look Cassie gives me should have me scurrying away but I stand my ground. I plant my butt firmly next to hers and give her a smirk. The only way to make me move is to cause a scene and I know she’d rather die than call attention to us right now. I give her thigh a pat and she shoots daggers at me with those green eyes. If she thinks she can scare me off she’s seriously mistaken.
“Everyone take a sip of the first one and put your notes down on the comment card,” Julia calls out to us as she and Zach move through the room handing out champagne flutes. This really is a production. I feel a twinge of guilt at not helping with the planning. Is that something Cassie and I were supposed to be doing? Maybe instead of screwing like horny teenagers we should have been checking in with Julia. The fact that Zach’s sisters have obviously been helping only makes me feel guiltier. A brush of Cassie’s arm against mine as she reaches for her glass makes all thoughts of wedding planning whoosh out of my head. Guilt? What guilt?
She takes a swig of her champagne and starts to furiously scribble on the card in front of her. I lean forward and put my card on the coffee table next to hers, letting my shoulder bump up against her. Again Cassie gives me a dirty look which I meet with a smile. I take a drink of the bubbly liquid in my glass. “Too sweet,” I announce.
“I thought you liked sweet,” Cassie says without looking up from her writing.
“Sometimes I like sweet. But not always,” I tell the back of her head, since she refuses to make eye contact.
“I wouldn’t have guessed that. Based on other things I’ve seen you choose.”
“So just because I liked something in the past means I have to like that thing forever?” I’m sure anyone overhearing this conversation thinks we’re crazy.
“That seems to be how you normally work,” Cassie responds and I can’t help but notice her looking at Julia.
“Well, let me clear things up for you. Maybe my tastes are changing. In the past I’ve liked sweet, but I’m realizing now I have a soft spot for things that are a little more tart. A little more prickly.”
“Can you describe champagne as ‘prickly’?” one of Zach’s sisters asks. “Maybe we should talk about the terms we want to use so that everyone’s on the same page.”
Cassie laughs at this, giving me a chance to see her pretty face. “If Graham wants to describe his champagne as ‘prickly’ I think we should let him.”
“It will make for interesting reading once we collect the cards, I guess.” This from Zach as he hands us our second sample. “Just make sure we can tell what that means. If prickly is good.”
“Prickly is very good. The best,” I clarify. Cassie rolls her eyes. “I’d choose prickly any day.”
Cassie is drunk.
Somewhere along the line she went from just tasting the samples to throwing back entire glasses of champagne. Now I wouldn’t be surprised to find her swilling out of one of the bottles. I watch her careen around the room as Julia tries to rein her in. Julia’s been trying to convince Cassie to stay in the guest room but, as expected, drunk belligerent Cassie is insisting on going home.
“I can take her,” I offer, pretending I’m not eager to be alone with Cassie.
“No way!” Cassie protests, slurring a bit. “I’m not going anywhere with Graham. We all know where that will lead.”
Julia looks confused but I just shrug. “I think we can chalk that one up to the champagne,” I say
and brush the comment off.
“If you could take her I would really appreciate it.” Julia’s holding Cassie up with one arm. “I can’t get her to stay here and I definitely don’t want her driving.”
“No problem.” I slide my arm around Cassie’s waist. “I’ll get her home.”
“And you can’t tease her about this later,” Julia warns me. “She’ll never forgive me if you do. Just get her home. No incriminating photos or anything stupid like that.”
I pretend to act shocked. “Like I’d do something to annoy Cassie.” I’m totally keeping up the ruse that she and I can barely stand each other. I should be nominated for an Oscar. This is an award-winning performance.
“Graham.” Julia’s voice holds an unnecessary warning.
“Okay. Got it.” I lean forward and give Julia a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for putting this together. It was fun. I promise Cassie and I will up our game for the next few things. We’ll be more help.”
Julia gives me that look that tells me she’ll believe it when she sees it but she’s distracted by Cassie making a move toward my mouth with hers. “Maybe you should bring a bucket or something. She’s really drunk. You don’t want her puking on the drive.”
“We’re fine. I’ll text you to let you know she’s home safe.” And with that I haul Cassie’s ass out of there and strap her in the front seat of my car.
We’re less than five minutes down the road before she starts messing with my belt. Cassie’s drunk enough that she’s having trouble but she still manages to be distracting. “Cut it out.” I bat her hands away. “I’m trying to drive here.”
“You worry about the driving and I’ll worry about this.” Cassie goes for my crotch again, leaning her head over into my seat and I almost swerve into oncoming traffic.
“Jesus, Cassie!” This drive home is going to prove more challenging than I originally thought. Drunk Cassie is handsy and determined to get into my pants.
“Are you seriously complaining about me trying to put your dick in my mouth?” Cassie asks, her gaze unsteady when I glance over at her.
“Normally I would be more than happy to let you do whatever you want to my dick, but tonight you’re a little too drunk for me to enjoy it, baby.” I try to give her a push back to the passenger side, but Cassie resists.
“It looks like you’re enjoying it,” she slurs as she moves her hand back to my lap. Sure enough I’m standing at attention, the front of my pants straining against my erection. My cock doesn’t always communicate effectively with my brain.
“That always happens when you touch me, Cassie. It probably always will.” I take her errant hand in mine and place it on the center console. I keep my fingers entwined with hers as we drive.
“No, it won’t always happen.” Cassie makes a sad face. “Boys always leave. You’ll get tired of me eventually. That’s the only thing my mama’s ever been right about.”
“What are you talking about?” I laugh. “You’re worried about me getting tired of you?” But Cassie’s snoring in the seat next to me, her mouth hanging open and her eyes closed. I pick up her hand and give it a kiss. She should be worried that I’ll never get tired of her, not the other way around. I am definitely more invested in tart rather than sweet right now.
She’s still passed out when I put the car in park. I come around to the passenger side and unbuckle her seatbelt. She stirs a little when I slide her out into my arms but then she settles with her head on my chest. I take a deep breath of her and bury my face in her curls. She’d never let me snuggle up to her like this if she were awake. Like I said, prickly.
Her apartment’s dark once I get the front door open. I nearly trip over a pair of hospital scrubs and Cassie’s running shoes as I make my way down the hallway to her bedroom. She must have rushed home from work to get ready to go to Julia’s. I grin at the thought of Cassie stripping down as she runs through the apartment. I lay her on her bed and work to ease her boots off. It takes me a minute to realize the buckles are fake and they have zippers on the side. Girls’ shoes and all that.
I hesitate when it comes to getting Cassie undressed. I’ve seen her naked more than a few times now but tonight she’s not begging me to help her wiggle out of her jeans. I take a deep breath and try to be as clinical as possible: shirt over her head, pants eased over her hips. I know she hates sleeping in her bra from conversations. She’s never let me spend the night to see firsthand how she should be dressed for bed. But getting her down to only her panties seems like taking this tuck in a little too far. I leave the bra on, grab the T-shirt I’ve strategically left under the bed, and put that on her, wrestling her arms through the sleeves.
I’m pulling the covers up to Cassie’s chin when she groans.
“You okay, Firecracker?” I whisper.
Cassie answers me with a muffled mrumph. She dips her head a little and takes a sniff of the material on her shoulder. “This smells like you.”
“Yeah.” Busted. “Is that okay?”
“Sure. I guess.” Cassie doesn’t sound excited.
“I’m going to hang out on the couch for a while.” There’s no way Cassie will let me sleep in here with her and I don’t want to leave her by herself. And I need to text Julia or else I’ll catch hell for not taking care of Cassie like I promised.
“No. You should just come here and do what you want to do.” Cassie’s working to pull the shirt back up over her head but only gets it stuck under her chin. This doesn’t seem to bother her as she reaches around to unhook her bra and wiggle it off. Her tits spill out, a sliver of moonlight from the window falling across her chest.
“Wait just a second,” I blurt out. “I just got that shirt on you.” I can’t help but stare at her breasts even though I remind myself that I shouldn’t. I put one knee on the bed and wrestle her arms back in. “That’s better.” I smooth the fabric back down, careful not to really touch her.
But Cassie has other plans. She takes advantage of my proximity to give my hand a hard tug. I fall forward and land on top of her. “No, that’s better,” she says. “Take your pants off.” She’s reaching for buttons and sticking her hand up my shirt.
“Not tonight.” I roll off of her and try to escape her roving hands. “You should sleep it off. You’ve had too much champagne.”
Cassie pouts. “See,” she says with a sigh. “Already bored.”
“Cassie, I’m not bored.” I don’t know why I’m explaining this. “Would I be trying to take this thing to the next level if I was bored? Come on, you’re drunk.”
“You don’t want to go out with me,” Cassie tells me. “No one dates the fat girl. Fat girls are for fucking and now you won’t even do that.” Her eyes look watery. Shit.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I don’t have to tell you. You know.” Cassie points an accusing finger at me. “You don’t want to date Mama Cass. You want that skinny girl. The blonde one. Everybody wants the skinny blonde one. But you like brunettes, too. Skinny though, no fatties for you.”
I sit frozen next to her. Cassie’s so angry I’m afraid to touch her. She’s shaking and snarling until her shoulders suddenly slump and all that venom turns to sadness. “But you’ll still fuck the fat girl. Everybody will. You should just do that and leave.”
I swallow hard. Cassie curls away from me and lets her head flop back on the pillow. I feel worse than if I’d actually gone ahead and had sex with her. Her breathing evens out and I slide my body next to hers, spooning her before I can stop myself. I move a rogue curl from her face and watch her forehead wrinkle. She’d kill me if she knew I was doing this—looking at her like this—but I’m pretty confident she won’t remember any of this in the morning. Not the car ride home, not trying to get me naked, not telling me all about her Achilles heel. All the times I’ve ever said something hateful or ugly to her float through my head. I could banish the guilt with the excuse that I was immature but I can’t help seeing my part in where Cassie is now. She’
s still carrying all that around with her, protecting herself from having anyone hurt her again. I’m sure I’m not the only asshole who’s done things to wound her but I’m the only one who’s here now. I’m the only one who can try to make amends. Cassie stiffens against me and I hold my breath. I’m not ready to leave her bed yet, not ready to leave her at all. I fall asleep with my heart in her hands and my head in the crook of her neck.
14
Cassie
I wake up in the morning next to an unmistakably Graham-shaped indentation in my bed. He’s nowhere to be found, but if my rumpled sheets and the lingering smell of him on my pillow is any indication, he was definitely here. I roll my head to check the time and find he’s left something on my bedside table. My eyes focus on the note he’s left: Eat me. Drink me. Very Alice in Wonderland but I let it slide, thankful for the large glass of water and the two ibuprofen tablets. I do as I’ve been told and then let my head fall back on my pillow. Ouch. I gather up the one Graham’s apparently been sleeping on and snuggle it against my chest. As long as no one’s here to see it I can spend two clandestine minutes breathing him in.
Right on cue my phone vibrates from somewhere on the floor. I throw the pillow aside guiltily and fish for it. Of course it’s Graham and I begin to wonder if this is one of those still-in-the-house situations. I consider checking under the bed but swipe to answer the call instead.
“Hello?” God, my head. Definitely needed the ibuprofen.
“Hey, sleepyhead. I didn’t wake you up, did I?” There’s genuine concern in Graham’s voice. I immediately go on red alert.
“No, I was already up,” I confess although I consider lying to make him feel a little guilty. “It isn’t that late.”
“It’s almost noon.” Shit. He’s right. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the kind to stay in bed all day. Not that I’d know, since I never get to wake up over there.”
Forget About It Page 9
