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Cassie works with practiced ease, the vibrant green of her hair a striking contrast to the white of her suit, but what really hits me is how happy she is. It’s contagious, and with the sun overhead and a fresh idea buzzing under my skin, I catch myself smiling.
“Hey, Cassie? Um, thanks for being so cool about my book. It means a lot. I haven’t really told many people.”
“Why wouldn’t I be cool about it?” she asks, and though it should be rhetorical, she’s raised her brow and, I realize, waiting for my answer.
Why? Lots of reasons. But why should I be surprised? Cassie, like Sebastian and my brother, faces the world with both eyes open and a middle finger to the air. She is who she is, and she isn’t interested in debating it.
I quickly decide I want to be her when I grow up.
She laughs when I tell her this. “Dude, you get paid to do something you love and you’re following your dreams. You’re doing a pretty amazing job of being yourself.”
With a little help from a certain someone.
When my face heats, she points. “And any man who can make you smile like that is one worth keeping.”
She’s not wrong.
With the sun beating down and a glowing warmth spreading through my chest, I don’t let myself overthink. I open the email app on my phone and offer my experience for a Q&A. Why not?
I’ve got the stories to tell, and with a few creativeredactions, I wouldn’t be violating any NDAs. It’s something I would have soaked up as a student.
As I press send, I don’t feel any regret.
Today, my white tee is loose and comfortable, my jeans reliably soft. It doesn’t feel like a costume.
Today, I can just be.
22
BEE
Sebastian walksinto my room on a mission. “Okay, hand it over.”
“What?”
“The next chapter. Haisley almost got caught sneaking into the prison, and she finally reached her father’s cell, and now I need to know what happens next.”
I stare at him, blinking. “You’re enjoying this,” I realize.
“Yes, of course I am.”
I tackle him to the bed, my lips on his. Who knew this would turn me on so much?
“I still want that chapter,” Sebastian murmurs between kisses, already working his fingers under my shirt to unhook my bra. “Don’t think you can distract me with sex.”
“Are you saying—” I pause as he peels my top off, then slide down to drag my mouth along the line of his hardening cock, leaving a damp trail on his sweatpants. “That this isn’t working?”
“Fuck,” he growls, slipping his hand into my hair and pulling me up for a rough kiss. “You know it is.”
Thanks to Alice’s take-home tins, I’ve started brewing chai from home. Sebastian surprised me one day with a kettle he won’t let me pay for. Says he benefits as much as I do, which is not even close to being true because I can count on one hand the number of times he’s chosen tea over coffee. Even now, television on low while he reads and I write, his mug of black Folgers sits steaming beside my far superior drink. Drinking that should be classified as a misdemeanor, but he won’t listen.
I abandon the sentence I’ve been struggling with for the last twenty minutes to watch him. Having not read a single fiction book since high school, Sebastian raided my bookshelf, and apparently, we share a love of firefighters. Who knew?
Dark jeans hug his thighs, a sentiment I can fully get behind. We’re both barefoot, his resting on the beanbag he still claims to hate and mine pulled into his lap where he’s idly brushing his thumb over my ankle. I’m not sure he’s even aware he’s doing it, but I’m definitely not asking him to stop.
I’ve discovered there’s no time where he isn’t criminally attractive. Sweaty in his running gear? Gorgeous. Rocking the tight black uniform for the club? Delicious. Rumpled in an old T-shirt and worn jeans?
Go ahead and cancel art, because nothing could compare to this masterpiece.
