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When I finish my last mouthful, Cass tugs my stool closer, gently shifting me to face him. “Do you wanna talk about what happened with August?”
“What you said to him?”
Cass nods. “I’m sorry if—”
“Stop.” I wave off the most unnecessary apology in the history of apologies. “Please do not apologize for that.”
“You’re okay with what I said?”
More than okay. I don’t think there’s a word for what I feel. It’s… relieved elation. Terrifying in its intensity. “As long as you really meant it.”
He doesn’t hesitate for a second. “Of course I did.”
In my gut, in my mind, in my silly little heart, I knew that was the case. But it certainly doesn’t hurt to hear verbal confirmation. “Just ‘cause it’s fake with us doesn’t mean it has to be with him, right?” The smile I crack lasts all of thirty seconds; that’s how long it takes for the resounding silence and Cass’ stony-face to confirm my joke fell oh-so-flat. “Sorry. Bad joke.”
Cass sits back. smooths his hands down his thighs. Cocks his head. “You still think this is fake?”
I sit back. Smooth my hands down my thighs. Cock my head. Hope I look half as carefully calm as he does. “Am I supposed to think something different?”
Whatever answer I was hoping for—and really, I’m not sure what that was—I don’t get. Cass’ silence, his hesitation, lasts so long, it freaking winds me. Not as badly as his suddenly stricken expression does, like my question simultaneously surprises and terrifies him.
Jesus, I’m losing my mind. I can’t even detect a light-hearted joke anymore. He’s just teasing me as usual and here I am, reading too much into it.
“Speaking of.” I clear my throat, using a herculean amount of effort to force my lips into an unbothered, upward curve. “We should probably do something, right? It’s been a while. I saw some articles speculating on our tragic break-up.”
I’m lying. I didn’t. I’m just grasping at straws and hoping I don’t pull a short one.
Cass keeps staring at me. Never in my life have I wished so much for the power of mind-reading, or simply just the ability to understand his thoughts and emotions as they flash across his face. I swear, whole minutes pass before he clears his throat too, nodding as he stands. Grabbing my bowl, he brings it to the sink, and I internally curse his back being to me so I can’t see his face when he says, “Yeah. You’re right.”
I internally thank his back for being to me so he doesn’t see my face when it falls. I recover quickly, though; I mean, of course, I’m right. What else was I expecting?
Actually, I was thinking, maybe we shouldn’t fake date anymore. Maybe we should just really date. Wouldn’t that be fun?
As if.
Silly, delusional girl.
When Cass turns to face me, his expression is as artfully clear as mine, his voice the same as he smoothly jokes, “You think our desperate fans can survive another month?”
Probably.
Me, on the other hand, I’m not so sure about.
44
CASS
“Kick me one more time.”The man in the seat in front of me twists to throw a glare my way. “I dare you.”
I brandish a decidedly unapologetic middle finger—hidden behind my other hand, of course, because August is sitting beside me and I’m a mature parental figure—at my brother-in-law. “I’m not kicking you.”
Slipping his hand through the gap between his and Rory’s seat, Nick flicks my erratically bouncing knee. “Stop it.”
“You know, if Daddy Warbucks over here had sprung for first class, we wouldn’t be having this issue.”
I lean forward to squint accusingly at Kate where she sits on August’s other side, in the window seat of the plane hurtling towards San Francisco. “You’re literally a doctor.”
She counters, “You’re literally a millionaire.”
