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My sweet cousin loves when my head is between her thighs. That becomes more evident as we spend the next two weeks going to various private areas to make out, which always ends with me devouring her until she shatters.
Neither Mom nor Genevieve suspects us. We’re the same in front of them as we’ve been the weeks prior, and Cassie is adamant about keeping it that way.
She eases out on the seat to check her neck in the mirror for any marks.
“I’m careful about that,” I assure her. “Don’t worry.”
Her shoulders relax, and she fixes her curls.
Feeling a buzz in my pocket, I take my phone out to check the screen, seeing a text from Barry.
I have a gig tonight at Sammie’s.
9pm.
Would love it if you came.
A groan slips out, and I collapse my head back against the seat.
“What’s up?” Cassie asks. “Who texted you?”
“Barry. He wants me to watch him play.”
“Oh.” She falls quiet for a beat. “Are you considering it?”
I turn to her, answering honestly. “Part of me wants to go. Another side doesn’t want to let him in. I know him, Cass. He’ll fuck up, and soon he’ll need money again.”
Her touch on my arm comforts me. “I get why you’d think that after he’s let you down so much. But I can tell you want him in your life. And who knows, maybe he’s trying to do better.”
I let her words settle in my mind before admitting, “I do miss watching Barry play his guitar. He taught me a little.” I frown. “We rarely had moments like that because he was mostly on the road.”
“Whenever you talk about him, I hear the pain and a bit of missing him.” She tilts her head and squints at me.
I snort. “You were always good at figuring me out, huh.”
She shrugs. “What time is Barry playing?”
“Nine.” I rub the back of my neck and groan. “Want to go?”
“Sure.” She looks at her phone. “Still have plenty of time. What do you want to do now?”
I stare at her intensely while caressing her cheek. “Let’s stay here a bit longer, so I can hold you. I love being with you, Cassie.”
Her response is a sweet smile instead of saying it in return. It’s as if she’s still afraid to admit how she truly feels.
Cradling her face, I lean over to kiss her and press my forehead against hers.
“Okay,” she whispers and kisses me again.
This thing between us is intensifying by the day.
I don’t know how I’ll be able to let her go when summer ends.
Sammie’s is still as lively as ever, packed with an older crowd cheering for the rock band on the small stage.
I lead Cassie through the dimly lit bar to a table in the back and watch my dad play his heart out on the electric guitar. He looks like a typical rock star in a band: messy shoulder-length hair, rings, denim pants, laced boots, and a black tee with a skull and bones graphic.
