The Possibility of Us

by Unknown

  “That I’m an asshole and she’ll rip off my dick if I hurt Laura.”

  “That sounds about right,” I said, staring off and thinking about my Cassie, before putting my focus back onto Drew. “What else did she say?”

  “Oh crap, brother,” he said, shaking his head. “You’ve got it even worse than I thought.”

  I couldn’t help but sigh. I had it even worse than I thought. I shouldn’t have asked my brother what Cassie’s feelings were; I should have been asking her. I needed to go find her, hug her so tightly I would never have to let her go again.

  We needed to both admit we’d messed up.

  Or in Cassie’s case, fucked up.

  “You should go with her this time,” Drew said.

  “What?”

  “I mean if she asks,” he said, ripping at the label on his beer bottle, “I know I’m at least a part of the reason why you came back to Maine last summer.” He took a long breath.

  “Are you giving me your permission or something?” I asked, trying to control the irritation in my voice, “because I don’t need it.”

  “I know you don’t. But I’m pretty sure Mom”—he paused, his voice catching—“or Dad wouldn’t want looking out for each other to get in the way of living our own lives.”

  I was a jerk. He hadn’t been giving me permission. He had been giving me support. “What about you?”

  “If this all goes to shit,” he said, tapping his right temple, “I’ve got your number.”

  As if she could hear our conversation, Cassie entered the bar and walked with purpose across the room and over to our table, her eyes right on me. “I want to show you guys something,” she said.

  “Cassie!” I exclaimed, the way you say someone’s name to prove to yourself he or she is actually standing there.

  “Ben!” she replied with a smile, the pitch of her voice matching mine.

  Our names had been the first words we’d uttered to each other this weekend. Yesterday, they’d been filled with spite and anger, but now it seemed they were filled with hope. As if we both knew our names together made something so much more beautiful.

  “I’m busy,” Drew said, picking up his beer.

  “Fuck off, Drew,” I said, looking at Cassie and standing.

  “What he said,” she replied before Drew could respond. Her eyes sparkled with laughter. “You’re going to want to see this too, asshole,” Cassie finished, practically shoving Drew out of his chair with her words.

  “This had better be good,” he said, finally rising from the table.

  We followed her through the half-empty bar and the completely empty lobby, out the sliding glass entry doors and into the cold. The sun had already set and the moon was fighting against the thick grey storm clouds.

  “Are you taking us outside so you can beat the shit out of me while Ben watches?” Drew asked.

  “Shut up,” I said, glaring at him, “or I’ll beat the shit out of you.” I wasn’t going to let Drew ruin this. I wasn’t going to let anything ruin Cassie and me again.

  She reached for my hand and pulled me to the side of the hotel, our boots making tracks in the fresh snow. Drew followed behind us.

  “Where’s Laura?” he asked.

  “Shut the fuck up, Drew,” Cassie said.

  “Why the hell am I here if I’m not allowed to talk?” Drew asked, his voice rising into the sky.

  “Look,” she said, pointing to a flat patch of snow that had been raked down. Lying on top of it in pieces of ripped plaid fabric were the words I fucking love you.

  Well, really the fabric only spelled out I fucking, the rest was etched into the snow with a stick.

  She was saying the words. Writing them. The words we both knew were just there under the surface of everything we’d ever done and said were visible for everyone to see. My heart squeezed against my ribcage; my pulse roared in my neck.

  “I ran out of material.” Cassie shrugged.

  “Couldn’t leave the ‘fucking’ out even now?” I laughed.

  “If I’m saying something this important, there’s no way I’m leaving out my fucking favorite word.”

  “Are those my boxer shorts?” Drew asked, walking closer to the display Cassie had set up.

  She nodded. “I took them last night while Ben was sleeping. It’s the least you could contribute.”

  “I fucking love you, too, Cassie,” I said, wanting to reply using her favorite word. Before she could say anything else, I drew her into my chest and covered her mouth with mine—the momentum of all our unsaid words behind it. A kiss I’d been waiting all weekend for, months for, a lifetime for. I felt her breath hitch as if she’d forgotten to inhale, forgotten to exhale, forgotten everything but our two lips and tongues fighting for each other in the cold night.

  I stopped and hovered over her lips, not touching them, not touching her, waiting, savoring her pull, letting her crave mine.

  She put her gloved hand on my cheek, her lips so close I could feel each syllable. “I’ve always known you loved me and I know you have, too, but I wanted you to see the words.”

  “You stole my boxer shorts?” Drew asked, even though no one was listening to him.

  “I was going to put them up a flagpole,” Cassie said, “but this was better.”

  “It definitely was,” I said, pressing my lips against hers again.

  In seconds, the miles that had been between us all weekend became feet and inches and then nothing. Our kiss was bottomless, blooming like a flower reflected in the night sky. It reminded me of who I was supposed to be—who we were supposed to be. And like that, we were we again, Cassie and Ben again.

  “Can I go now?” I heard Drew ask. “Because if I watch much more of this, I’m going to throw up.”

  Cassie pulled away and looked at me. Her eyes were glistening like the snow in the moonlight. “We’re going. I’ve got some other things I need to say in private.”

  I hoped we were also going to do some things in private.

  “Thank fucking God for that,” Drew said, lighting a cigarette.

  She took my hand and led me back toward the hotel. It wouldn’t have mattered where she was taking me, I would have followed.

  And maybe for both of us, that feeling, that faith had been what we were waiting for.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Cassie

  We walked into Ben and Drew’s room hand in hand. Part one was complete, but there were other things I needed to say. Things that might not make Ben want to take me in his arms and kiss me like I was the one snowflake he had finally caught.

  I just wasn’t sure how. With Laura, it had been easier, but it hadn’t been about Laura when I told her.

  Telling Ben was about Ben, me and Ben, Ben and me.

  Telling Ben was about finally being we.

  It was probably why I’d avoided ever saying anything about the abortion, so it never had to just be about Ben and me. But now I was ready for it to be.

  I put my hands in my pockets to try to keep myself from fidgeting and sat on the edge of the big, white, freshly made king bed. The room was completely clean of our room service trays and plates, and the bar was restocked. “What did Drew say when he saw the mess?” I asked, stalling.

  “He didn’t,” Ben explained. “I put all the trays in front of the room across the hall before he got back.”

  I took a steadying breath. This was a lot harder than I thought it would be, and I’d thought it was going to be pretty fucking hard. Ripping up fabric and writing the words I’d always had inside had been easy. Opening my heart to Ben and really showing him who I was and what I’d been through would be a lot harder.

  But he’d been able to finally tell me about the whole of him that morning. And I could do the same.

  Ben stood there watching me, waiting. What did I expect? I’d been the one who told him I had more to say. But how did you start a conversation like this? Especially when it was something you’d buried. Like they’d done to Rawe today.


  Putting her in the ground didn’t make her go away forever or anything, but it made her become something you could visit when you wanted to. Something you could leave behind even though it was always in your memory.

  Like Ben with his father.

  That was what I’d been able to do with my abortion—bury it deep. Let it go after I’d finally grieved over it, but I knew for things to move on with Ben, I would have to dig it up. I wasn’t trying to burden him or anything. I mean, it had happened before I even knew him, but it made me who I was now. If he truly loved me, he needed to know, and I needed to tell him.

  If I wanted us to ever have a chance, this was the first step.

  Ben stood in front of me and shifted back and forth on his feet, like he understood how important this conversation had the possibility to be, and he was trying to stay cool. Things between us had become a possibility again.

  “You want to get some more food or something?” he asked when I still hadn’t said anything. “They restocked the bar, too,” he added quickly.

  I knew he was just trying to make me comfortable. It was his way of saying, You can tell me, Cassie. I understood he didn’t want to say those words because he could tell how strongly I felt about being the one to speak first this time.

  As if ripping up his brother’s stolen boxer shorts hadn’t been enough of a clue I finally meant business.

  I shook my head and pushed my hands palms-down next to me on the bed, centering myself. “I want to talk about Aaron,” I said, trying to keep my words measured. I said that, but really Aaron didn’t even know about the abortion. It had been better to reject him first, rather than suffer the inevitable rejection I knew would come. We were anything but serious about each other. Honestly, I should probably have stopped using his name when I referred to it at all.

  Fuck if Rawe hadn’t also taught me about personal responsibility.

  “I’m ready,” he said, sitting down next to me on the bed.

  I began the story the way most sad-stories begin: by describing how stupid and open and naïve I was. Most of the reason I had tried so hard never to be that way again.

  Ben just listened. I think he was afraid if he moved, I would stop. I might have. I wanted him to hold me, but I also knew, if he did, I might just start crying and never finish telling him.

  “It wasn’t until I got pregnant—” I said, the most important words finally trickling out.

  “You got pregnant?” Ben asked interrupting me, his brown eyes as big as two pancakes. “When?”

  “Before Turning Pines, before us,” I said, “Perfect fucking timing, right?”

  He waited.

  I took another breath. “I knew I couldn’t have it. I mean, I was seventeen and I was on my way to a Wilderness Program across the fucking country. So my brother helped me out.” I paused and looked down. “We had it taken care of.”

  “You don’t have to keep going, Cassie,” Ben said, taking both my hands in his.

  I was glad he was holding on to me, because with the lightheadedness I experienced revealing my secret, I could have floated up to the ceiling like a helium balloon.

  “I do,” I said, knotting my fingers in his. “I want you to understand why I pushed you away for so long. I want you to see why I finally let you in, but why I never could have completely. I want you to know that I know it’s my fault; what happened between us was my fault,” I managed to squeeze out.

  He kissed my hand. “It wasn’t,” he said. “It was both of us. I won’t let you be the only one to take the blame.”

  “That’s only because you’re you,” I said, my gaze firm, “but I deserve a lot of it.”

  “I wish you would have told me this before,” he said, clearly stunned by my admission, “but every brick you made me shatter, every wall you made me climb, it all makes sense now.”

  “I guess I still had some more bricks and walls left.” I paused. “See,” I said, “my fucking fault.”

  He shook his head. “It was my job to make you feel secure enough in us to tell me, and if I didn’t, then that was my fault.”

  “If you want to take some, it’s yours,” I joked. The kind of joke that hurts because of the seriousness you’ve talked about just beforehand.

  “I didn’t come with you just as much as you didn’t come with me,” he said.

  “Why didn’t you?” I asked, my eyes watering.

  “I guess partly because of my brother,” he said, smashing his lips together, “but also I was trying to make you prove something.” He shook his head. “It seems stupid now. I just wanted to be followed for a change.”

  “I get it,” I said. I did. So much of our relationship had been what I wanted. For once, he needed to know I would follow him after all the chasing he’d done to catch me.

  “I won’t make the same mistake again,” he said, the muscles in his shoulders and neck tightening. “I’m here, and I promise I’m not going anywhere ever again. I’m not letting you go this time.”

  “I like that promise.” I parted my lips, inviting him in. “Are you going to kiss me again?”

  “I’m afraid if I do, I’ll never stop.”

  “Never stop,” I whispered, ready to lose myself in him.

  He gently pushed my hair behind my ear and slid his fingers underneath my chin. His kiss was blistering. The power of his want cracked me in half and took me over like I was his puppet to move, to tease, to taunt. His tongue seemed to float with mine, two of the surfboards we’d seen in California going out to sea and never coming back. The fire of him filled me, the need, the craving flowing into the soft parts I usually hid; his light made my face glow, my whole body radiate. I ran my hand over his chest, down his stomach, as solid and strong as I remembered, but loosening under my touch like I was melting him.

  His lips drifted over to my ear, my neck. His kisses hit my skin as quickly as raindrops, hot, steamy raindrops. My body fell against him as his mouth consumed mine again. This time with such force, need flooded my chest and flowed down and down and down, burning my core like lava.

  How could I have ever denied myself this?

  He moved his hands gently to each cheek and pulled away to look at me, to catch his breath. I was glad, because it was getting hard to catch mine.

  “If you keep kissing me like that,” I said, our eyes linking our desire, “I promise I’m not going to let you let me go anywhere.”

  “Now we have two promises we can never break,” he said, licking his lips before he devoured me again.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ben

  We talked and made out for hours, until the room was dark. I lay on the bed while Cassie washed her face, trying to take in everything she’d just told me, everything I’d just told her.

  I was still dressed, and she was, too, but emotionally I was stripped bare. Each word we said, each kiss we shared seemed to peel off another layer.

  We were completely exposed now, and it was as terrifying as it was reassuring.

  The room was spinning, like the letters from the words we’d said, admitted, promised were falling all over the place like the snow outside—burying us, cocooning us, trapping us together forever.

  I’d meant what I said. Sure, I didn’t know how, but I was not letting her go this time. Not when I had her. Not when she had me. We needed each other, wanted each other. The complicated shit that got in the way was not going to get in the way anymore.

  I was going to make sure of it.

  It was worth giving up everything just to be near her again.

  I heard the door to the bathroom open, and Cassie stood in the light coming from behind her in a black lace bra and underwear. She leaned against the doorjamb, her arm cocked out at her waist.

  Forget the sun. A stupid, crappy fluorescent light in a hotel bathroom meant everything to me in that moment.

  Her body was incredible: long slender arms and legs, a taut stomach, the slight curve of her hips and her breasts. I’d seen them before, but
now with her breathing heavily, her chest heaving, waiting for me to take her in, they were spectacular.

  “It’s been six months and two days ,” she said, walking toward the bed, slowly, heel to toe, heel to toe.

  I knew exactly what she meant. She was talking about when she’d said no to me in California. Now it seemed her beautiful body was telling me she was ready, finally ready to say yes.

  “You’re right on time,” I said, reaching for her. I knotted my hands in her hair as I brought her to me. It looked like the night against her ivory shoulders, her delicate-as-porcelain neck. I wanted to kiss her, but I also wanted to touch her, to look at her, to explore each part of her she was now offering me.

  She moved to my lap and straddled me, her hips stirring against mine. I wanted her, all of her, so badly. I’m sure she could feel it, feel me, practically bulging through the button fly of my jeans. Finally having Cassie this close, this mine, was dizzying.

  “You sure you’re ready?” I asked.

  She nodded. “There’s no more wasting time when it comes to you and me.”

  I kissed her face in as many places as I could, before kissing first her top then her bottom lip, tasting toothpaste and soap. She was right. We’d wasted enough time already.

  Her lips seemed to scream those words as she thrust herself against me, her kiss as insistent as the only thought in my head: I need her to be mine.

  She stopped only long enough to pull off my shirt. Her lips were on me again in time too small to measure. Our bodies fell against each other with no barriers, just hot, sharp skin.

  “I can’t believe how much I fucking love you, Cassie,” I managed to say between kisses, the words coming out as forcefully as an orgasm. Being able to say them and have her hear them, accept them, want them, had the same body-shaking release.

  “You’re not going to start talking like me now, are you?” She smirked.

  “I’ll do anything you want. I’m completely under your spell.”

  “Abra-motherfucking-cadabra,” she said, brushing her hair behind her shoulders and slipping off her bra.

  I took her chin in both hands, kissed her waiting lips, and moved down her neck, my tongue on fire. I licked in between the line of her cleavage. As I took one of her nipples into my mouth, she let out a moan that I felt in the back of my throat.