There was no uncertainty about it.
I wanted her publicly.
And I knew without a doubt that, for several reasons, that couldn’t happen right now. Shouldn’t happen right now. My brow furrowed in dismay at the notion as I stared at my phone in my palm after Luke and Claire’s quick goodbye, and I moved to roll the door back into the wall. Cassie was already up and dressed, having thrown on her same clothes as the night before.
Her eyes whipped to me, and she murmured, “Good morning.”
Her hair was not the usual straight, shiny drape that fell over her shoulders, wavy with a halo of frizz. The right side of her face was pinker than the left due to having rested on my chest, and the area underneath her warm, brown eyes was puffy. Though she was reflecting my own anxious anticipation, she still offered me a slight smile with a drowsy, trusting gaze.
Goddamn, she was a sight to behold.
“Good morning,” I returned quietly, placing a hand on my hip as I asked, “You got somewhere to be?”
“Yeah…I have a feeling we both just got invited to the same party.”
A corner of my lip pulled up, but only just. “That we did.”
My clothing was on the floor before me, still in a heap from when I had stripped to join her in the shower. I stepped into my jeans, and just as I was pulling them over my hips, she noted:
“So…Colton’s back.”
“He is.”
“With the laptop.”
I hummed in agreement and snatched my shirt from the floor. “And he’ll want to talk to me—and by me, I mean you,” I pulled my head through the neck hole, put my arms through the sleeves, and smoothed the fabric over my abdomen, “about the MIA girls at Gas Lamp.”
“Is this when we debrief about my work so you can do the talking for me?” Cassie pursed her lips, and then muttered, “Sorry you’re a middle-man.”
“Ah-ah.” I waggled an index finger in the air. “None of that. I’m in the middle of it regardless because I want to be, right?”
Cassie exhaled, “Right.”
“Anyway, we, ah…” I hesitated. “Don’t need to debrief.”
She squinted. “Why not?”
I spoke with an upward inflection, “Because I told Luke and Claire that I was going to let Colt meet up with my, erm, friend himself?”
“Oh.” Her pretty face turned to an expression of relief, but it only lasted for so long. Her freckles warped as her nose scrunched up in distaste, and she repeated, “Oh.”
“Yeah…”
Cassie rapidly and monotonously deduced, “They think you’re fucking a stripper. Great.”
“I am fucking a stripper,” I returned. “Though I don’t care for that phrasing—”
“Jay!” Cassie threw her head back as she whined, “They’re gonna know!”
“About your job or about me?” I asked with a single high brow.
She huffed out a breath, looking at me pointedly. “Job. Probably have to keep us under wraps, right? The timing is…” With a soft roll of her eyes, she bitterly chuckled, and I understood her sentiment without her having to explain further. I nodded in agreement, knowing just as well as she did that there was simply too much going on to even consider saying or hinting at anything about us. “Forget the bad timing of it all; they may think that you have a stripper girlfriend. And it’s not me.”
My mind stuck on a single word, everything else fell to the wayside, and I felt my head tilt as I questioned, “Girlfriend?”
Any frustration she had seemed to melt away, and she smirked at me as she bit her lower lip.
“Well, unless you’re a very good actor or I’m bad at reading the room…” Cassie whispered dramatically, “And I’m not bad at reading the room.” Stepping toward me, she reached forward to grasp at my shirt, pulling me into her as she looked to me and wrapped her arms around my waist. “I had assumed that this was not a no-strings, casual fling. Y’know—off of context clues.”