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"You're supportive. Just not in the way everyone expects."
"I am?" she asks.
"You push me to be my best."
"You do too. Sometimes." She half-smiles. There's a sadness in it, but it still sends warmth through my limbs.
Here's the only thing worse than wanting to fuck Cassie. Wanting to love her.
Daphne will be pissed if I fuck Cassie.
But if her best friend fell in love with me, and then I broke her heart?
She'd murder me, dig up my corpse, set it on fire, and hang it in the town square with a note that says bastard.
Or the modern-day equivalent. Like never speaking to me again.
Thankfully, Cassie manages to find her senses. That's one thing I'll say for women. They're a lot better at thinking when they're horny.
Or maybe she's not nearly as far gone as I am.
Both, probably.
"I guess I should text Bryce." Cassie pulls her cell phone from her purse and taps a few keys.
He replies right away.
She stares at the words with confusion. "He wants to see all four of us, again. In his… room." She looks up at me. "That's weird, right?"
"It's probably so he can drink and sleep." I don't trust him, but I don't want to put her on edge. I'm here. If something gets fucked up, I can handle it. "If shit gets weird, I'm here."
She nods okay. "You don't think he…"
Wants her? Absolutely. But I don't think he'll act on it. Not in front of me. "Probably not."
"Okay. Yeah. Okay." She takes my hand. "Well. Here goes nothing."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Damon
Thankfully, Bryce isn't alone in his hotel suite. He's with a woman. An up-and-coming pop star.
It takes me a minute to place her. Lisa Love. Obviously, a reference to Courtney Love—she's got the same bleach-blond hair and thick black eyeliner too—but it sounds more like a porn star's stage name.
She does straddle the line between pop and riot grrrl well, with a long red flannel shirt open over a tight black dress. I've never listened to her music by choice, and last time I was researching female pop acts, she wasn't big enough to make my list, but Cassie loves some of her stuff. Covers.
She played a few for me, for ideas for one of our breakup songs.
If this is our second judge, we're in the money. Cassie knows this woman in a way I can only imagine. She's listened to her music and dove into her lyrics, enough to see into her soul.
That is, if the work reflects her soul in a meaningful way.
A year ago, I would have looked at Lisa and thought Cassie belonged with her. After all, Lisa is obviously pretentious and cutthroat. Cassie thinks about music all the time, but it's not because she's trying to be some visionary artist. Her love is pure too.
The way she dissolves between her headphones—
It's sexy. Way too sexy.
Red alert. Red alert. The flag is flying in…
No. This is the time to show how much I want her. I wrap my arms around Cassie and pull her into a tight embrace.
She looks up at me with curiosity. Then she blinks, and there's only desire in her gorgeous greens.
Fake or real? I don't know. I don't care.
I bring my lips to hers. I soak in every ounce of her kiss.
Her tongue slips into my mouth. Her fingers curl into my neck.
Right on cue, the door opens, and Frederick and Tinsel step inside.
Tinsel lets out a nervous chuckle. Frederick growls. It's out of character for him.
Cassie jumps back in surprise. She takes one look at them and she launches into my arms. This time, she kisses me like she's going to take me right here, in the massive den, in front of everyone.
"Are you feeling any regret right now?" Bryce asks Frederick. "Or are you thinking, 'thank goodness I don't have to deal with her exhibitionist streak any more?'"
Bryce's pop star friend kicks him hard. "Sorry. He's an idiot. You two are sweet. I'm Lisa Love."
Frederick stops himself from rolling his eyes. I can almost see him and Cassie in the middle of an argument about whether or not the Counting Crows wrote good music.
Did he agree their lyrical prowess overrode their lean into pop-rock? Or did they both love the dive into an easier sound?
I can't see Cassie rolling over about a music debate. Did she really let his opinion trump hers?
Even if he has bad taste, he must honestly love music. Cassie wouldn't spend three years with a phony.
Tinsel doesn't comment on the new pop star in the room. She jumps right to defending her boyfriend. “We have a really great sex life.” She looks around the room, unsure why everyone is turning her way. “We’re just not showy about it.”
“You don’t have anything to prove?” Bryce offers.
“Bryce, baby, don’t toy with the poor kids.” Lisa brushes a white-blond strand behind her ear. “They’re here to work for you.”
