AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I voted no on dessert. I was sick of third-wheeling.”
“It looked more like a double date.”
Her eyebrows pull together as she stares at me. “I went to Fellini’s with Sydney and Graham right after school. There weren’t any open tables. Harrison was already there with some of his teammates and invited us to sit with them. They left before us and he stayed.”
I swallow.Fuck. I’m relieved. I’m worried byhowrelieved I am.
“And even if I was out on a date with him, you have no right to—”
I kiss her, cutting off the rest of her indignation. Cassia freezes. Familiar electricity arcs between us, snapping and crackling with its potency and power.
When Cassia starts kissing me back, I groan. Wrap my arms around her and haul her closer to my body, right here on the sidewalk.
I tighten my grip on her jacket—my jacket—and that knowledge mixes with the desire circulating through my body. I’ve never kissed a girl wearing my clothes before. She was wearing my sweatshirt the first time we got off together in my driveway. It added an extra layer of intimacy then, and it does the same now. There’s never been another girl Iwantedto wear my clothes before. Just her.
She’s so responsive, so eager. I just know, somehow, that it wouldn’t feel like this with anyone else. I knew it when I kissed her in eighth grade, and I feel the same way now.
Her expression is dazed when we separate. It makes me want to start kissing her all over again, to keep that expression on her face and know that I was the one who put it there. I wait for the questions. TheWhat did that mean?andWhy did you do that?
Instead, she simply smiles. “Is that a yes on the waffle?”
I grab her hand and pull her toward the waffle place. It’s warm inside and smells incredible. I haven’t been here since last winter. There’s a young family sitting by the windows, but the shop is otherwise empty.
Cassia walks right up to the counter and rattles off her order.
I raise my eyebrows when she looks to me. “You come here a lot?”
“It’s on all my siblings’ chore charts as a reward. So…yes.”
I shake my head at that, marveling over just how different our families are before ordering one of their premade options.
Cassia argues when I go to pay, but I elbow her out of the way. Thanks to the illicit Friday night fights I spent the last couple of months participating in, I’ve got a decent amount of money set aside. And it occurs to me, as I hand my card over, that there’s nothing I’d rather spend it on than her.
“I’m super excited for the game tomorrow night.” It’s not until the girl working the register says that while handing back my card that I aim any focus at her. She’s on the younger side, probably a freshman or a sophomore. “I traded shifts just so I could go.”
“It should be a good game,” I say.
“You’re playing so well this season. It’s amazing to watch.”
I’m no stranger to flirting. There’s always been a reliable thrill to saying something suggestive or teasing to a girl. It’s a dance, a tease, a push and pull. But all I’m feeling now is uncomfortable. There’s nothing wrong with what she’s saying, but the tone is unmistakable. And it feels wrong that she’s talking that way to me in front of Cassia.
“Thanks,” I reply, tucking my card back into my wallet.
I know this isn’t a date and I know Cassia knows it isn’t a date, but that’s exactly what I assume it would look like to anyone else.
Our waffles are prepared and handed to us, along with a few napkins. Cassia heads for one of the tables, and I follow her over.
She dives into the dessert immediately. I can’t help but smile, my bad mood totally forgotten, as I watch her annihilate the mound of waffle and ice cream. Some whipped cream gets left in the corner of her mouth. I want to lean over and wipe it away, but I pass her a napkin instead.
The second napkin in the stack has a number scrawled on it.
Cassia glances at the series of neatly written digits. Scoffs. “I guess she assumed I was your sister.”
I clench my jaw, tempted to walk back over to the counter and ask for a new stack of napkins. I’m irritated by her presumptuousness.
But I don’t hate the way Cassia is close to snapping her plastic spoon. Another girl giving me her number bothers Cassia, and I like the glimpse of possessiveness far more than I should.
“You didn’t tell Sydney about me tutoring you.”
