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"They did great work," I say.
"They did? Or she did?"
"I'm sure you can guess my opinion on the matter." It's obvious she's the more talented one, but I don't need to spell it out. He can see it too.
"Is that why you're together?"
"Am I using her for her talent?" I ask.
He nods.
"As a creative partner."
"Your motives as a man are a lot less pure?" He laughs at his own joke. "I can't say I blame you." He offers his hand to shake. "I look forward to hearing your sample. And having some fun Saturday, with both of you."
Fuck, I don't like the sound of that. Still. I shake his hand. I try to shrug off my concern as I move through the living room.
Tinsel is in Frederick's car, taking a call.
Cassie is in the driveway, talking alone with Frederick. They're close together. Too close. For a moment, jealousy flares in my stomach. Then I see it—They're not sharing. They're arguing.
"You don't have to take this personal," Frederick says.
"My pitch had nothing to do with you." She smooths her dress and presses her wine lips into a you can't bother me smile.
"Why does it sound familiar then?"
"It's what I suggested the first time you played me Bryce's work." She smiles even wider. "It made sense then, before you were fucking someone behind my back. It makes sense now that you're fucking her in front of everyone."
He frowns. "It's always about sex with you, isn't it?"
Cassie's smile disappears. She looks in Tinsel's direction, but she doesn't say her name or spell out the implication.
I want to scream it for her. You fucked someone else, asshole. Of course, it's about sex.
"It's ironic, considering…" He doesn't explain what he means, but she knows. It's all over her face. He's said enough to hurt her. "I wanted this to work as much as you did. You don't have to believe that, but it's true."
"The pitch has nothing to do with you." Again, she finds the fake smile, but this time, it's not remotely convincing. "And what I think about you is no longer any of your business."
He nods fine, takes a step toward the car, stops himself. "I wanted to stay friends."
"Maybe you should have thought about that—"
"Before I fucked her. Yeah. I know. It's hard to have a conversation when that's your come back to every single thing I say." Frederick shakes his head. "I hope it's different with him. For your sake." He leaves with triumph, sure he's had the last word.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
I cut through the driveway. I wrap my arms around her and pull her into a long, deep kiss.
She kisses back with an intoxicating mix of lust and need. I don't know if it's real or fake. Only that I want more of it. All of it.
"Fuck." She pulls back with a sigh. "Does this look as desperate as it feels?"
Maybe. I certainly feel frenzied. I need to erase that pain. I need to show him someone else wants her.
I need to show her.
Cassie shifts enough to glance at Frederick. She must like what she sees, because she goes back to kissing me.
She hooks her leg around my hip.
I wrap my hand around her thigh.
I forget why we're here and what we're doing. I lose myself in her lips.
I'm in high school again. I'm content to kiss her for hours. Forever.
Then the sedan pulls out of the driveway, Cassie releases me, and I'm not sure where we are or what we're doing.
She looks up at me with hazy eyes. "Let's go to your place."
There's no way she means to fuck, but that's all my body hears.
"We need to get started on the next song," she says. "We need to fucking ace this."
She's right, but still, the only thing I think is we need to get naked in my bed.
Chapter Eighteen
Cassie
The blissful mix of rage and inspiration keeps me glued to my pen. Damon and I work until we crash. Well, until I crash. I fall asleep in his bed and wake up with the sun. He's in his parents' bedroom. The house is quiet.
I should probably stop and consider the implications of dreaming in my enemy's sheets, but I don't. I fix breakfast and coffee and trade a few what's up with you texts with Daphne, then I dive into the song.
When Damon wakes, he joins me. He doesn't even stop to tease me about falling asleep on him or wanting to sleep with him or inhaling the scent of his pillow. He slips right into work mode too.
We fit together so well here. I almost forget I used to hate him. I almost forget we're competing with my ex-boyfriend and his new flame. I do forget we're pretending we belong together.
Because we do belong together here. We're perfect here.
