“Bullshit!” I exclaim so loudly she jumps. “Stop lying to me and stop lying to yourself.”
“I’m sorry, Xavier. It won’t happen again. I’ll never drink that much around you to make sure.”
“No,” I say. “I want to get you drunk again, because apparently that’s the only time you’re honest with me.”
“Xavier, can you please just forget it ever happened? I have, so, please…”
“Don’t you want to know if it was good or not?”
“What?” Cass asks while redoing her ponytail; a nervous habit to keep her hands busy.
“The kiss. Don’t you want to know if it was good?”
“Not really, no,” she scoffs.
“Well, it was,” I tell her. “It’s a shame you don’t remember it.”
“Ah, yeah,” she says while her cheeks redden. “I bet it was. But I’ll make sure it doesn’t ever happen again.” That’s apparently the end of the conversation on the topic, because she turns around and marches back inside the bar.
And I feel like a fool. This was not how I wanted to bring up the topic with her. I didn’t even say any of the things I wanted to, like I want her to kiss me again, not give me a guarantee it won’t ever happen again. Or that kissing her felt so natural that I can’t figure out why we haven’t done it before now.
I don’t want Cass sitting in another man’s lap or going to football games with anyone else. I want to be the one who pulls her into my lap and spends every Sunday with her even if I don’t give two shits about football.
But now I’ve ruined my chance by blurting out about the kiss and bringing it up the wrong way.
Cassidy
Oh. My. God.
I kissed Xavier…and I don’t even remember it! How is that possible? How drunk was I? And worst of all, he said it was good. We shared a good kiss, and I didn’t even know. I feel so stupid and embarrassed. I may never drink again, at least not around Xavier.
“Can I please get a water?” I ask the bartender since I’m too ashamed to go back to our table yet.
And if the kiss happened days ago, why is Xavier just now bringing it up again? He should’ve said something the next morning when he told me about Mike stopping by. I thought he was acting weird, and now I know why. I came on to my best friend, and he was too much of a gentleman to tell me…until now.
Why now, of all times, did he bring it up and in front of Eddie, to top it all off? Not that I care about that since Eddie is well aware that the two of us are not exclusive. It’s a perfect reminder, in fact, to make sure Eddie doesn’t get the wrong idea about us being something we’re not.
Still, I wish there was a way to get inside Xavier’s head and scrub away the memory to make him forget. I don’t want one stupid, impulsive, drunken decision of mine to make things awkward between Xavier and I, especially not now when he’s getting ready to finally move back home for the first time in ten years! I just want my best friend back, and now I’ve probably pushed him away because of a stupid kiss. The worst part is, I didn’t even get to experience it after all these years thinking about what it would be like to have Xavier’s mouth on mine.
Hold the freaking phone.
Did he kiss me back?
The whole time he was telling me about it I was too embarrassed to even think to ask.
And now I’ll never know because I plan to go the rest of my life without mentioning it again. Damn it! This is all my mom’s fault. If she hadn’t come over and nagged me while reminding me of my longtime crush on Xavier, I wouldn’t have drank a bottle of wine, and…the kiss wouldn’t have happened.
“Here you go, Cassidy,” Frasier, the owner and bartender tonight, says when he slides a cool glass of ice water in front of me.
“Thank you,” I tell him as I lift the glass to my lips and guzzle it down to try and cool off my overheating face.
Now, I just hope to go back over with the group and watch the game, hoping Xavier will quickly forget I put my mouth on his.
Chapter Fourteen
Xavier
I regret opening my big ass mouth.
Ever since I told Cass about our kiss last night, she’s been distant, barely speaking a word to me.
Oh, but she was chatty enough with Eddie and her fantasy buddies.
I never meant to make her feel bad about it when I brought it up. I want a repeat, not for her to pull further away from me. The two of us haven’t been in the same room since the bar. This morning, she didn’t even stick her head in the guest bedroom to tell me she was headed to the store to make sure things are still running smoothly without her. Cass was down the stairs by the time I came out into the hallway and asked if she wanted me to go with her. Her answer was no, that she would handle it on her own so that I could get to the gym.
Now I probably won’t see her again or talk to her until tonight when we head to our former high school’s homecoming football game. I haven’t had a chance to ask if she’s expecting either of her fuck buddies to join us there too. God, I really hope not. I’m not sure I could sit there and watch another man’s hands running all over her like she’s his. Not that she’s mine either, but still. It’s rude to be so grabby in public.
There’s at least been one benefit to my current foul mood.
“Jesus, you hit harder than a Mack truck,” Coach Briggs says as I plow my fists into his red pads over and over again. “Whose head are you trying to take off?”
“No one,” I say through my puffs of breath, even though I’ve been alternating between picturing Mike’s smug face with Eddie’s big fucking melon. Cassidy willingly kisses them sober all the time apparently. But me? I’m the huge mistake she obviously regrets.
I regret nothing. Not the kiss or running off the asshole when he showed up and interrupted or deleting his texts from her new phone this morning while she was in the shower. Okay, so that probably makes me the asshole, but I don’t care. The man only wants one thing from Cass, and she deserves better than him and big ass Eddie.
“Then where is all this aggression coming from?” Coach asks. “I don’t remember you being so…volatile when you were a kid. You angry at the ex?”
“My ex, right,” I agree as I lower my arms to take a break. The man I should be picturing my fists slamming into is my former friend and fellow associate, the one who Camilla was screwing behind my back. And I did use him as a focus object those first few weeks when I was working out at the gym back in Seattle. But never did I take out as much aggression on him as I have here at Havoc.
“Well, whatever it is, don’t forget it,” he says. “At least not until after your fight.”
“Any leads yet?” I ask while wiping the sweat from my brow.
“Several, in fact,” he tells me as he lowers the pads. “Just waiting to get something in writing from all of them so I can give you your options.”
“You think I’m going to have more than one?” I ask since he said options, plural.
“Oh yeah. You’ll have your pick of opponents. We’ll watch some tapes and figure out who would be your best match and the best payout.”