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“And also, I’m basically the last person in the world anyone would want to hang out with besides Ayana because she’s awesome and nice, and Ransom by extension, and maybe my family. Plus, there’s the whole piano thing, and since I’m not convinced that the universe doesn’t hate me, I can’t let you talk dirty to me. I should probably go.”
She says that but doesn’t move, and her eyes fill up with tears. Fucking fuck nuts. Lady tears. I don’t know how to deal with lady tears. Watching Cass cry makes me feel like someone is scooping out my insides with a melon baller to make a really nasty fruit punch, the body parts kind.
“Whoa, there. No. I refuse to let you think about yourself as some bad luck charm. You are going to change your fate, your luck, and your…your whatever you want to call it. You’re going to change your mind. That’s what’s going to happen. Right here, right now.”
She stares at me defiantly, the tears still in her eyes, making them sparkle like the ocean on a hot, sunny day. I don’t know where it’s coming from, but suddenly, it matters to me about changing her mind. Maybe because I know what it’s like to feel like you’re going to spend the rest of your days alone, and it really, really sucks. Maybe I care that Cass is unhappy and hurting and that she truly believes if she touches someone or something, it’s going to get piano-fied or turned to dust.
This time, when I kiss her, I lean in and do it slowly. I trace her lips again, memorizing the pattern of them, the feel of her, and the sweet bubblegum taste with the sour afterbite of tingly candy sugar. That taste of sugar ignites something in my gut, and all of a sudden, my jeans are getting tight-fitting in the crotch region, and my nuts kind of feel like they’re burning a little. Cass is equally responsive, arching into me, threading her hands around my neck, and tugging me closer. She’s all I can think about, and for me, that’s a first.
A rather terrifying first.
I should hold on to all the reasons why this is a bad idea, but what do you know? Maybe I’m a little bit cursed, too, and Cass isn’t the only one who needs to let that shit go. So, yeah, kissing her like my life depends on it? It’s not so bad. I actually kind of like it. I guess she kind of likes it, too, because all of a sudden, we’re doing a horizontal kind of kiss with her stretched out beneath me, trying to slam her pelvis up into the beastly bulge in my pants and scrambling to wrap her legs around my waist.
As much as I want this, this isn’t about me getting my rocks off—my dick protests this HARD. Haha. It’s about making a point and getting Cass to believe she’s not unlucky and that she’s just a regular person. Wait, no, that’s not true. She’s so much more than a regular person.
“I’m going to prove you wrong,” I rasp against her lips, breathing raggedly. “I’m going to give you the best orgasm of your life.”
“No!” She still rocks against me, and we both gasp in pleasure when her hips collide with my hard-on. “You’ll get squashed by a steam roller tomorrow or the next day. You might blow up, die, or get run over by a bus, or a rocket could drop from space right onto your head, and I would be responsible for it.”
“Bad luck doesn’t literally rub off. That’s just an expression. And you’re not that kind of unlucky. You. Are. Not. Cursed.”
“You can’t. We can’t. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Screw being right. I want to touch you, Cass. I’m not afraid.”
“I…I can’t let you sacrifice yourself just to prove a point.”
“That is the point.”
Her eyes squeeze shut, and then they fly open again. “I want you,” she pants. “I want this. My god, I want you to touch me. I’ve thought about…I’ve thought about you before. You’re the reason I failed my driver’s test. I mean, no, not you. I just…I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss in the alley. I…I touched myself, and I thought about that kiss. I imagined it was you touching me. Then I imagined you eating out my pussy, and I…couldn’t sleep.”
“No, I imagine not.” I somehow say that with a straight face, which is a minor miracle because my balls are the size of beach balls, and my dick is so hard that I could do not one but ten home runs.” I nearly laugh when I imagine myself trying to wrangle my dick up and swinging it like a bat. Jesus. What a picture that creates in my head.
