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We pass the next couple of hours playing War, Go Fish, and Bullshit—those last two being a joke with only two players. But because my eyes were dilated at the hospital, the nurse suggested keeping me awake for about six more hours and then calling in to report on my progress.
On the one hand, I love playing cards with Cass. I take these moments to stare at her hair and fantasize about touching it. Or, stare at her neck and think about burying my face in it while I’m buried inside her.
Cass pulls one card out of her hand from the left and then tucks it between two cards on the right. Her brows draw together with a small crease on her forehead. Her bottom lip juts out when she’s thinking hard.
Her shoulders shimmy just a little whenever she’s excited to take her turn.
In high school, staring at her was enough.
Now, I feel like we’re wasting time. We’re sitting here playing cards, for fuck’s sake, when I have her all to myself. What the hell is wrong with me? I know what my dad would say is wrong with me. “Pull your head out of your ass and tell her how you feel! You kids are gutless these days.”
Iamwasting my time. Every moment I don’t tell her that when she walks into a room, the world becomes more bearable is a moment wasted.
But is now a good time? Will she think it’s me or the head injury making me say things?
I’ll have to ensure she knows I’m one hundred percent of sound mind.
Cass has the worst poker face, studying her hands with either delighted, sneaky, or sour expressions.
“Don’t ever play poker in Vegas, Squeaks. You will lose.”
Cass nudges my leg with her foot and scoffs, as she always does when I tease her.
But then something else happens. When Cass makes that brief contact with her foot, energy passes between her and me. Warmth spreads from that spot where she touched me. My body aches for more. Studying her gaze, I think she felt something too. Her eyes dart away from mine, and she blushes. That is not the Cass I know. She’s afraid of no one.
Focus, Titus. Focus.
I need to end the game early. And the only way to do that is to fail on purpose, letting her win.
“I can’t believe I beat you,” she chuckles, shoving the cards into the case.
I hate myself for making her think she won fair and square.
“I know, right?” is what I say instead.
“What now?” she says after she puts the cards away.
“I should do some reading for class.”
Cass nods. “As long as it’s not too much for your injured brain. Where’s your backpack?”
I gesture toward the wall. “It’s not in the backpack. I need you to ensure I don’t faint while I reach for the top shelf on the wall by my desk.”
“Oh, just sit tight. I’ll get it.” Cass says with a smile, then jumps up.
She’s so damn helpful and perky, even after being up all night.
She drove me home after I caused a fight at her sorority party. Then she took me to the hospital and stayed with me. And now she’s giving up her entire Saturday for me. Because I’m the idiot who got his ass kicked to the sidewalk and cracked his head.
Cass crosses to my bookshelf, her dress hiked up and clinging to the backs of her thighs. This gives me the most tantalizing view, and I think I might die of thirst.
Sure, I’ve seen those thighs before. I’m no stranger to seeing her in underpants, yoga pants, sports bras, and bike shorts. I’ve been almost a part of the family since I was 12. I know her body almost as well as I know my own.
But right now, the sight of that rear end distracts me from saying what I need to say. Because apparently, I’m a troglodyte who sees a hot ass and loses all his brain cells. “Cassandra?”
She rolls back onto the soles of her feet and turns around, her expectant eyes on me, my book resting against her stomach with one arm wrapped around it.
She blinks, and I know it’s that she’s surprised I called her by her full name. God, I’m already ruining the moment by being too formal. I’m freaking her out. “Yes?”
