Page 43 of Forbid It

“There’s”— I cough—“That’s not⁠—”

Pip peers at me from behind her sunglasses. “Okay, sure.”

I finally catch my breath, wiping the tears leaking from my eyes.

“If it means anything at all…” Pip waves her hand. “I’m here for it.”

I can’t catch my breath.

“For?”

“You know.” She tilts her head towards Cassie, gesturing between where we stand and the end of the garden. “But if you hurt my best friend, I’m going for your good leg.”

Jesus. Before I can open my mouth to reassure Pip that I am not jealous over her best friend, nor do I have any intention to hurt her, said best friend starts walking this way. Like in slow motion, she tugs her hair free from its bindings and her red curls bounce with each sway of her denim-clad hips as she saunters towards us.

“Hey,” Cassie says in her sultry low voice. For the first time, the sun bathes down on us from just the right angle that I can see the flecks of brown in her eyes. What I thought was just forest green is suddenly a kaleidoscope of color and I could lose myself for hours picking out the shades. Did she say something? Fuck, she so did.

“Hey,” I stumble out. For god’s sake, pull yourself together man! Hey? What a way to kill a conversation. Say something else. Compliment her outfit. Anything. “So about that autograph…”

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Cassie flinches just barely and Pip raises her eyebrows as she stares at me.

“Right.” Cassie clears her throat. “The autograph.” She hands her drink off to Pip, a wordless conversation crossing between them. “Follow me.”

Awkwardness climbs in my throat and I want to snatch back the words. I couldn’t give less of a fuck about a damn autograph (Sorry Ffion), I only came because I can’t stay away.

I follow her through a back door and down into a converted basement, thick carpet underneath our feet and framed records hanging on each wall. Cassie walks a few steps ahead of me, and I want to catch her wrist and stop her before she runs too far away. But I can’t. I really am only here for an autograph, right? I shove my hands in my pockets and follow her down the corridor.

Cassie finally pulls to a stop outside a small cupboard. She doesn’t look at me as she yanks it open and pulls out a cardboard box. She sets it down on a nearby countertop with a slap, but carefully pulls out a CD I recognize as her latest album.

“What’s your niece's name?” she asks softly, uncapping the lid of a Sharpie.

“Ffion.” Even if this is the most awkward five minutes of my life, at least my niece will get something out of it. “I have a nephew too, Sammy. He’s five, but he’s not exactly a fan.”

Cassie raises her eyebrows.

“Not that he doesn’t like your music, of course.” My cheeks heat and I want to die. “He’s just not really into uh, music. Yet.”

“Right.” She hunches over slightly as she signs the CD, leaving a message that’s almost too long for the tiny plastic cover. Before I can take a peak, she slides it inside a small paper bag and holds it out to me. “Here.”

“Thanks.” I take the bag, our fingers lightly brushing on the handle. I almost expect her to leave, run out of here because I lodged my foot so thoroughly inside my own mouth I can still taste the rubber insole. Instead, she turns and leans her back against the counter.

“Are you going now?”

I shift in place, the gift bag hanging loosely at my side. “Is this a trick question?”

She scoffs before running her hand through her hair. “No, no it’s not, I just⁠—”

Her phone vibrates in her pocket and she pulls it free with a frown.

I’m expecting her to walk away into one of the small rooms off shooting the basement or shoot me a pointed glance to get the fuck out, but instead she spares me a quick glance before angling slightly away from me. I don’t really want to walk out of this basement. I want to hear what she was going to say. Does she want me to hang around?

I pretend to be engrossed with Ffion’s gift bag, inspecting it carefully without disturbing any of the contents, but I can’t help but overhear the hushed conversation.

“Hi. What do you mean? Tonight? Wha— No, I— Where? But wait, I didn’t know about this, I haven’t got any of my— wait wait, Dad.” My ears perk up. Her dad? “How long was this planned? Why didn’t you say anything? I haven’t had time to rehears⁠—”

From the side, I can see her chest rise and fall, each breath more rapid than the last. I fold my arms across my chest, trying to see if I can decipher the fragmented conversation. Cassie glances up at me with an expression of such hopelessness, I can’t help but intervene.