Page 1 of Cassian

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Cass

Oh,soit’slikeagrown-upbar, was all Cass could think as he entered the hushed space, all soft lighting and dark wood; small, intimate tables; and leather-backed chairs. It was nothing like the boisterous sports bars or clubs he’d ventured into since turning twenty-one, the best that his little college town had to offer, all places aimed at university kids who wanted to get wild, loud, laid, or all of the above.

This was the kind of place where people ordered wine, or cocktails, or if beer,definitely the kind that came in, like, some sort of frosted glass. But that was okay. That was fine, really. Because yes, Cass may have technically been a college kid, and yes, he was most definitely interested in maybe, possibly (hopefully) getting laid, but he was also an adult, with just as much right to be there as anyone else, okay?

Cass found an empty spot at the bar and hopped onto the stool, silently cursing the fact that it was tall enough for his stupidly short legs to dangle.

The bartender was in front of him in an instant. “Need a menu?”

Cass shook his head, not wanting to get overwhelmed by choices when he’d barely been brave enough to walk through the doors in the first place. “Um, just a manhattan?”

He hated that it came out as a question.

“Right after I see some ID.” The man gave him a kind smile as he said it, but he definitely wasn’t joking.

Cass couldn’t exactly blame him—he’d always looked younger than his age, and his outfit choice of fussy button-up and pressed pants had somehow only enhanced the effect. So he fished his ID out of his wallet and handed it over.

The bartender looked it over thoughtfully. “Barely legal, huh?”

Cass couldn’t help it: he fucking blushed. Not exactly the secret to looking like he belonged, he was pretty sure. It was just, the guy made it sound all dirty or something.

The bartender cocked a brow at his flushed cheeks but was kind enough not to comment. He just shot Cass a wink. “Coming right up, then, cutie.”

Oh.Oh. That was flirting, right? Was Cass allowed to flirt back, or would that be frowned upon? Could he get the bartender to take him home, maybe? That would be pretty cool, right?

But even as he was thinking it, he was glancing at his phone for the fifteenth time that night, seeing if he had a text from Blake. Pathetic.

There was nothing since the last:Going to grab a beer with some new ski buddies. You up for it?

Cass had never responded. Because he knew—he absolutelyknew—what it was going to be like. Some gorgeous, tanned, athletic ski bunnies draped over Blake’s massive shoulders, licking their lips like he was some kind of human candy. And why shouldn’t they? Blake was gorgeous. Blake was perfect. Blake was…

Blake was everything.

Cass had been stunned when they’d been roomed together for their junior year. He knew at this point most people chose their own roommates, and he knew whyhehadn’t done so: college hadn’t exactly been the social awakening he’d hoped for. Which was his own fault, choosing a known party school just because he’d had a full scholarship. But Blake? Cass had sized him up in an instant: handsome, popular, able to make friends like it was as simple as breathing. The fact that he’d chosen a random assignment had made zero sense in Cass’s eyes. But Blake had said something about getting his grades up and not needing the distraction of his rowdy friends. And so Cass—uncool, untalented, loner Cass—had suddenly been paired up with one of the university’s golden gods.

Blake was everything Cass wasn’t. Blake played intramural sports, was built like a linebacker, and collected girls’ numbers like they were spare change. Not that Cass wanted any girls’ numbers. He’d take some guys’ numbers, for sure. He’d take Blake’s number, was the stupid, horrible, evil truth of it.

Well, he had Blake’s number. Obviously. They were roommates, after all. But he didn’t have itthatway. He had it, like,Hey dude, got any spare quarters for the laundromat?Or,Grabbing food, want me to bring some back?

Because that was the other thing. The other, completely unfair thing that had become clear over time. Blake was nice. Like, super nice. He’d never made Cass feel inferior or small (except maybe just by existing), despite their many differences. He treated Cass like he was special, like he was smart and funny and not at all a complete drag to be around.

Which didn’t help Cass’s stupid crush one bit. What also didn’t help was his suggestion they road-trip home for spring break together. They were apparently both from Phoenix, despite never having crossed paths before college. And then had come his suggestion they stop in some place called Hyde Park so Blake could hit the slopes for the weekend, taking advantage of the last few snowy mountain days before warmer weather took over.

And now they were here, and Cass was as hopeless as ever. He’d spent the day exploring the town instead of the mountain, because a day spent falling on his butt on the packed snow didnotsound like the funnest of fun times to him personally. And he’d hoped they’d maybe at least get dinner after, and Cass could have tried not to gawk as Blake was his usual charming, sweet self over burgers and beers. But of course Blake had made friends on the slopes, and of course he was going to hang out with whatever fun, popular, athletic crowd he’d found. Which left Cass—

“So deep in thought.”

Cass startled, accidentally flicking the coaster he’d been toying with up and over the beer. Oops. He hadn’t even quite realized his drink was in front of him, drops of condensation already forming on the glass. And apparently the stool next to him was no longer empty but occupied by some handsome, older dude. NotBlakehandsome, of course, but kind of…compelling? And he was talking toCass.

Cass tried to pull his brain out of its Blake spiral and respond like an adult, casting a sidelong glance at the stranger. “Oh yeah. You know.”

Jesus. Was that the best he could do?

The man’s lips curled ever so slightly. “I’m afraid I don’t. Pretty thing like you, what need do you have to be scowling so?”

Pretty. Pretty? No, that wasn’t right. Cass was… He was just boring. Dirty-blond hair he could never get to sit flat. Washed-out blue eyes. Skinny and short and often at odds with his own limbs.

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