Page 58 of Double Standards
Cassie freezes, her back to me for a beat too long. Then she turns, her clutch tightening my shirt around her body like it’s armor.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” she replies, soft but steady.
“Didn’t want to say goodbye either?” I accuse, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. The sheets slip to my waist, baring my chest.
“I thought it would be easier this way,” she murmurs. “No morning after awkwardness. No... expectations.”
I rise slowly, crossing the room until I’m standing in front of her. I’d had the decency to throw on a pair of shorts last night, though I probably still look like hell. Still, she watches me like I’m something worth unraveling. “You think I expected something?”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t answer. Not right away. Her eyes flick up to mine and stay there, searching, maybe hoping I’ll make it easier for her. But I’m not the one trying to disappear.
“I don’t know,” she admits finally, voice quiet.
“This looks good on you,” I say, nodding to the shirt hanging off her frame.
Her eyes widen, catching the edge of something she’s not sure how to handle. “Did we…?” she asks hesitantly.
I shake my head, dragging a hand down my face, trying to scrub away the irritation before it seeps into my voice. “No.”
Her shoulders loosen slightly, but there’s a flicker of something else in her eyes—relief, maybe. Or regret.
I step closer, close enough that the space between us could vanish with one decision. “If I wanted something from you, Cassie... you'd remember.”
She watches me with that same guarded expression, like she’s not sure if I’m about to pull her in or let her go. “I don’t remember much of last night,” she croaks, rubbing her palm over her face.
“You know what I remember?” I ask, voice hushed. “The way you kissed me.” I place a finger beneath her chin and tilt her face to meet mine, my lips barely an inch from hers.
Her expression softens.
“The way you begged me to kiss you back.”
Her fingers twitch at her side, like she wants to reach out but doesn’t trust herself to. Or maybe doesn’t trust me not to pull away.
“I remember the way you looked at me when I told you what I wanted.”
She swallows heavily, and my eyes track the movement. One decision could drive this moment. One action could move this in another direction.
“I wasn’t lying,” I whisper.
Cassie’s eyes search mine. “I know,” she replies, voice barely audible. She exhales slowly, and I watch the fight drain from her shoulders. I can tell she’s tired. Not just from the alcohol, but from whatever walls she’s been holding up since the moment we met.
I reach out, fingers brushing against her wrist. She lets me. The contact is small, but it grounds me.
“Stay,” I say. It’s not a command. It’s a quiet plea dressed in vulnerability I can barely name.
She looks down at my hand, then back up at me. Her lips part, sadness fills her gaze even though I can’t see the depths of her green eyes. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
For a moment, Cassie stares at me, completely silent. It’s like she’s searching for a reason to stay, or maybe a reason to go.
Finally, she responds. “You know why, Axel.”
The way my name rolls over her tongue, parting her lips, it does something to me. I forget about her answer. I forget about the walls between us, about the blood on my hands that’ll stain her if I’m not careful.
All I see is her—this woman who’s got my ribs in a vice and doesn’t even know it. Or maybe she does. Maybe that’s why she’s pulling back now, while there’s still something left of me she hasn’t ruined. Or saved.
I reach for her wrist, fingers brushing her skin like I’m not sure I have the right. “Cassie?—”
