Before she can say anything else, I yell, “Get.The Fuck. Out. Of My. Office!” Jessa stumbles back as if I’ve hit her across the face, and runs out of my office crying. I could care less because those tears are as fake as her personality. All I care about is getting Cassey to hear me out. Quinn asked me to give Cassey time, and I will, but not long. I won’t lose her. Not ever.
~ Cassey ~
My phone vibrates for the thousandth time. It’s probably Kyler, but I haven’t bothered to check. Instead, I have Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball” streaming through my speakers in my office while I go through some unsolicited manuscripts. It’s the only way I can keep my mind busy, and off Kyler. I haven’t seen him in a week, and as much as I’d like to reason with myself that it’s been easy, I’m lying to myself. I miss him. Fiercely. He became my drug of choice, and I’d gone so far out on a limb with my feelings that I didn’t know I was out there alone. The first two nights without him, I decided to sleep in the guest bedroom. My sheets still smelled like Kyler, and I didn’t want to wash them. That would’ve felt like I’m erasing our brief yet incredible time together and I wasn’t ready to let it go yet.
But then the anger set in, and I threw the sheets away like a real girl. I told myself that was me walking away, and moving on from Kyler, despite my body craving him with every fiber. I was determined to block it out, switch it off. I should thank my parents for that. They might’ve been crappy people, but at least they took the time to show me how to live with hurt. I decide to brave it out and check my phone, frowning when I see it’s a Georgia area code. My feelings bounce incessantly between disappointment that it’s not Kyler’s number I’m seeing, and anger because it’s probably my parents calling for money. Again. It’s like they knew I was talking about them. I sigh, and against my better judgment, return the call. It rings a few times, but I wait it out because I need to get this over with. For good. “Cassey?” My fathers gruff, one-box-a-day voice comes through the phone. “Hi, Dad,” I greet flatly.
It’s impossible to say it with endearment, because all the man is my sperm donor. He hasn’t once earned the privilege of being referred to as more. “I’ve been trying to call you for days,” he says. I hear him cough, and wheeze in the background, a sound I became very accustomed to early on in my life. Only now, it’s worse.
“Sorry,” I reply. “I’ve been busy at work. What do you want, Dad?” “Your mamma and I are in a spot of trouble kiddo, we need your help.” “I already told her I don’t have the kind of money you’re asking for, and never to call me again,” I say, completely exasperated with the conversation already. “But kiddo, we really need you. Think about everything we’ve done for you.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, and calm the rage I feel clawing its way out from the inside of my chest. “Everything you’ve done for me?” I almost yell. “Are you fucking kidding me? You haven’t done anything for me since I was five.”
“Don’t be that way, sweetheart. It wasn’t that bad.”
I inhale sharply. “No, you’re right, dad, it was worse. You left me to fend for myself for most of my life. You only ever cared about getting your next hit, and when you couldn’t, I became your punching bag.”
Hot tears build behind my eyes as memories from my childhood play through my mind like a lifetime movie.
My father sucks in a breath, but doesn’t say anything for a beat. “I know we’ve made mistakes, but you’re our only option. Please, Cassey, we really need money. Just give it to us, we’re your parents.”
That was the last straw. I was a minute away from caving, just to get rid of these people who called themselves my parents.
“What you’re asking for is all I have,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“You’ll make it back,” my Father replies, his voice perking up.
“I need a few days to get it out,” I lie. If I can hold them off for a few more days, I can figure out what to do. There’s no way I can give them everything I have.
I hear my father umm and ahh on the other end of the line, rather begrudgingly, before he replies. “Okay, I will call you in a few days.”
The line goes dead, and I stare down at my phone, shocked. I shouldn’t be. That’s the nicest conversation I’ve ever had with my father. And that makes my decision not to help him, or my mother, so much easier.
I just have to figure out how. Having had enough of everything, I pack my stuff up and head home. My emotions are all over the place, and work is the last place I want to be. I could use a night out, so I send Quinn a text:
Let’s go out, I need a drink. A second later my phone rings, and I answer. “Hey Quinny.”
“Hey Cass. What’s up?”
“I’m going home now. You?”
“Me too. I can be at your place in thirty if you want?” “Are we going out?”
“Yes, I could use a night on the town,” Quinn replies. “Great, see you in a bit.”
“See you soon.”
Quinn and I climb out of the cab, both dressed for a ‘Sex and The City’ kind of girls night out, and walk into the club. We ignore the protests from the people waiting in mile-long line, and greet the Bouncers. They lift the red velvet rope and let us in. The thumping music fills the giant space and we walk straight towards the bar.
“What’s your poison, ladies?” A sexy, blonde haired bartender meets us at the bar.
“Two tequila shots,” Quinn replies. The bartender grins and pours the clear liquid into two shot glasses, giving us some lime slices and salt on the side. Quinn and I hoist the glasses up. “What are we toasting?” I ask Quinn. Her lips purse, and her brows scrunch in thought. “To assholes, and great sex.”
I throw my head back and laugh, feeling a lightness settle over me that has been absent since I walked out of Kyler’s apartment. “To assholes, and great sex,” I repeat.
We tip the glasses, and I savor the burn from the alcohol as it warms my belly.
Quinn hits the bar with her shot glass, and orders another round. “You can’t walk on one leg,” she reasons.
After throwing back the second shot, we push our way through the crowd, until we’re in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by people that bump and grind to the music. We start moving with the ocean of swaying bodies, and soon the world and all my worries melt away.
“I need some water,” Quinn yells over the noise.
“I’ll wait for you here,” I yell back.
I watch as her retreating figure disappears, and start moving to the music again. Two songs later, I feel two hands wrap around my waist, and a body pressed against my back. At first I freeze, unsure of myself, but then I start dancing. I look at the hands cradling my hips, and they suddenly feel wrong. My heart drops, because they’re not Kyler’s hands, and the person behind me doesn’t smell like him either.
As if reading my mind, the hands disappear, followed by a “what the fuck, man?”. I spin, searching for the source of the commotion, and almost trip when my eyes land on Kyler. My breath hitches at the sight of him, and then I frown. He looks sexy as sin in his dark jeans and black shirt, his hair a ruffled mess, but why is he here and why is he dragging some random guy away from me? He grabs the stranger by the shirt, and after whispering something in his ear, Kyler shoves him back into the crowd. He turns, and when his hard gaze lands on me, I shiver.
God, I’ve missed those eyes. But then I remember what he looks like with someone else in his bed, and all excitement and longing I feel evaporates. I stalk over to him, meeting him half way. “What are you doing?” I yell. “He had his hands on you!” Kyler yells back. We’re causing a scene, but I don’t care.
“Maybe I wanted his hands on me!”
Kyler growls, and grabs my arm. I try slap it away, but his grip tightens as he drags me through the crowd. “Let go of me!” I scream.
Kyler spins quickly and bends, throwing me over his shoulder. I hear a few guys hoot and holler and glower, even though they can’t see me. My hands ball into fists, a
nd I start hitting his back. “Put.Me.Down!”
Kyler ignores me, and walks through a door that leads into a private room normally reserved for private parties. He looks the door, and then puts me down.
I take a big step back, my hands on my hips, and glare angrily. “What is wrong with you? You’re acting like a complete caveman!”
Kyler returns my angry glare. “That asshole had his hands on you,” he replies through gritted teeth.
“The only asshole in this club is YOU!” I snap.
Kyler goes quiet, and pulls his hands through his hair. “Cassey,” he murmurs, his voice sullen.
“No! You don’t get to do this to me, Kyler. You don’t get to decide who I dance with. I’m not yours!”
“But I’m yours!” Kyler yells back.
And there it is, the inevitable impasse. That moment when two people who love each other, but are too stubborn to say it. Instead, Kyler slept with someone else, and I wallowed in self-pity for three days.
I feel the burn in my eyes, and silently pray that I don’t cry in front of him. I wouldn’t show him that he’s my weakness.
I look down, and shake my head. “No, Kyler, you’re not. You never were.” My voice is as small and as vulnerable as I feel.
“I need to explain,” he says. “Nothing happened with me and Jessa.” I snort. “Yeah, because walking in on you, naked in bed with her is definitely nothing.”
Kyler takes a step closer and I follow suit with one step back. My back hits the wall, and Kyler takes the opportunity to cage me in, resting his forearms on the wall beside my head.
“Nothing happened,” he says. His voice is low, and hard. It ignites the fire in my belly, and I silently curse my body for responding to him and his closeness after what he did.
“Liar,” I breathe out. “I saw you.” My throat tightens. Replaying what I walked in on isn’t doing me any good.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Kyler whispers, his hot breath hitting my face as he presses his forehead to mine. “But nothing happened, I swear to you Cass.”
“Tell me the truth,” I say. “What really happened?” I want to know, and part of me thinks Kyler might actually be capable of telling me the truth. I want to believe that he cares enough to be honest with me, even if it’s going to rip me to shreds.
“Jessa saw me at the bar, and slipped something into my beer. I don’t remember anything after that, but when I confronted her, she told me she followed me home, and climbed into bed with me after she sent that text from my phone.”
I look into Kyler’s eyes, and search his face for any sign of dishonesty. I visibly relax when I don’t find it anywhere. While it’s a relief, I realize that what went wrong between me and Kyler is so much bigger than what Jessa did. I fell in love with him, a man I willingly agreed to have an exclusive nostrings-attached relationship with. I should’ve known there is no such thing. The severity of the realization hits my chest, knocking the wind out of my lungs.
“Please say something,” Kyler pleads. “Tell me you believe me.” “I don’t know,” I reply quietly.
“Please.”
Kyler leans in and slowly presses his lips to mine, gently at first, and then applying more pressure.
His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and they traitorously open for him. His tongue dives in, and traces the contours of mine, seducing my mouth. His right hand cups my neck, and tilts my head up, deepening the kiss, and his left hand presses my lower back.
I feel the bulge below the zipper of his jeans against my stomach, and can’t help but whimper. My hands claw at his shirt, and pull it into my fists. He lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. The hardness of his jeans rub against my centre, and I moan into his mouth. He presses his hips into mine, and I feel the spark between my legs. I want this. I want him. But knowing that my lust is more than just lust makes me stop.
“Kyler,” I breathe out harshly. “Put me down, please.”
He pulls away, and gives me a confused gaze. I slide down his body. “I can’t do this,” I choke out, swallowing back an onslaught of hot, unwelcome tears. I push Kyler back, and step aside to get around him. I walk towards the door.
“Cassey, wait!” Kyler calls out behind me. His voice is drowned out by the blood rushing in my ears, and I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. I rush out back into the club, and search frantically for Quinn. I spot her at the bar with Jarred, and shove the other club-goers out of my way. Quinn’s smiling face drops when she see’s me, and she rushes over.
“Are you okay, Cass?”
I shake my head no, unable to speak at the moment.
“You ready to leave?”
I nod, wiping my face, not worrying about the make-up.
“Let’s go, sweety, we’ll call a cab.”
“No,” I cry. “Stay here with Jarred. I’ll get a cab myself.”
“I’m not leaving you alone,” Quinn says, and I love her for it. But I need to be alone.
I shake my head adamantly. “It’s okay, I just need to be alone. I’ll text you when I get back to my place.”
Quinn hesitates. “Okay,” she sighs. “But let me know that you’re home safe.” She hugs me, and another part of me cracks. I let her go, and find the exit. On the drive home, I cry silently in the back of the cab, and on the way up to my apartment. I shut the door, and in the dark, silence around me, I fall to the floor, and sob. Twenty minutes later, I hear banging on the door, and jump.
“Cassey! I know you’re there, I can hear you!”
It’s Kyler. I stand up on shaky legs and wait.
“Please let me in, Cass! I’m so sorry baby. I’m sorry I upset you.” I convince myself that if I let Kyler in, we can talk and get it over with. I calm my nerves and my breathing, and open the door.
“Cassey, I’m so sorry,” Kyler says again, walking in quickly. He shuts the door, and makes his way towards me. He doesn’t touch me, but I can see he wants to. I can also see fear, and concern in his eyes.
“W-why are you here?” I ask.
“Because you’re upset, and I need you to talk to me.”
“There’s nothing more to say,” I reply. It’s a lie. There’s so much more to say. “I’m not buying it,” he says.
My emotional state takes a turn into frustration. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours dammit!”
Kyler grips his hair.
“I don’t know!” I cry out. “You want me to believe that nothing happened between you and Jessa so that we can go back to how things were, and I can’t do that again.”
Kyler’s face falls, and it’s like a kick in the stomach. But I can’t put his feeling before my own. Not this time.
“I can’t be your,” I pause, trying to form the words in my tight throat, “fuck buddy again.”
Kyler’s somber expression morphs into one of rage, and he steps closer to me until our noses are almost touching. “You think that’s what we were? Fuck buddies?” His voice is harsh and angry. “It might’ve started out that way, but baby, you.fucking.own.me.”
“You don’t want what I want,” I say. “You want no-strings-attached and I can’t do that with you anymore.”
“Good,” he growls. “Because I can’t do that anymore either.”
I frown, confused. Did he come all this way to reject me? God, I’m exhausted, this is killing me. I open my mouth to say as much but my words disappear when Kyler crashes his mouth to mine.
“No, we’re not doing this. I’m not sleeping with you for old times sake. You don’t want me anymore, and that’s fine, but don’t fuck with my feelings anymore, Kyler. I can’t take any more of this.”
“You think that’s what this is? That I’m going to fuck you, and walk out that door afterwards?”
I look down, but don’t answer him. Kyler tilts my chin with his finger. “You are so wrong, Cass. So very wrong. I have no intention of leaving here until you know
exactly how I feel about you.”
I look into his eyes, hoping he can see the question I can’t ask. How dow you feel about me?
“I love you,” he blurts out. “I’m in love with you.”
I stare at him, stunned speechless for the time being. He waits, and when I don’t respond I almost feel the fight leave his body.
“If you don’t feel the same way,” he adds softly, “I understand. I - ” In a moment of weakness, I shut him up with my mouth. I kiss him like my life depends on it. I don’t trust myself to say anything with words. So I don’t.
Kyler lifts me up, and carries me to my bed. He strips me of my dress, and then removes his own clothes. I watch as crawls over to me, and settles between my legs. His mouth slants over mine, and he kisses me gently, with reverence. Tears roll down my temples as the magnitude of what I feel for him settles over me, overwhelming me.
“Don’t cry,” Kyler whispers, kissing each of my eye lids in turn. “I can’t stand to see you hurting.”
When my eyes open and meet his intense gaze, I see what my heart is too scared to believe. He loves me.
“I love you,” I say quietly. “Make love to me.”
He smiles shyly, and presses a kiss to my lips as he pushes into me slowly. My legs go around his waist and I hug his body to mine. His hips move in slow even strokes, and I feel ready to combust. Our moans fill my dark bedroom and our bodies collide in a store of lust, and passion, and love. Nothing we’ve ever done can equal what I feel right now.
“So good,” Kyler murmurs into my ear. “So beautiful.”
I hitch my legs higher, and Kyler circles his hips, making me cry out in delirious pleasure. Our fingers thread together above my head, and Kyler’s mouth travels down my neck to my breasts. He sucks a piqued nipple into his mouth, and the first swirl of my orgasm sparks to life in my core. I feel ever part of Kyler on my skin, basking in the way our skin rubs together. After teasing my nipples raw, Kyler’s mouth comes back to mine, and for the hours that follow, he makes me believe his words. He loves me.
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