“Oh, I found it all right,” I tell him while staring at the fly of his jeans. “Wait, what we were talking about?”
“Never mind,” he says when he turns around and sits down on the sofa next to me. He’s so heavy that I sink and fall toward him.
“Whoa,” I say when I catch myself on his hard chest and get a whiff of his rich boy cologne. “You smell really, really, good.” Unable to help myself, I press my nose closer, and it sort of ends up in the crook of his armpit. Oh, but even it smells lovely.
“Ah, thanks,” Xavier replies with a chuckle when he slings his arm around my shoulders. “I’ve never seen you like this, because one beer would put you to sleep when we were teenagers.”
“I don’t remember that,” I say, closing my eyes and inhaling more of his deodorant. “I took the lid off of the Tom Ford roll when I bought it, and I swear it doesn’t smell nearly as good in the container. It must be something about the way the scent mixes with your natural pheromones,” I think to myself or say aloud, I’m not sure which. “My ovaries approve and give it two thumbs up.”
“You’re pretty cute when you’re drunk,” Xavier says.
“You’re always pretty cute,” I murmur. “No one else looks like you or smells like you or makes me laugh like you. Macy’s right. I’ve been trying to find a Xavier Malone replacement for the past ten years. Normal men just can’t compete with you, though. But I bet that would make a great television show. I should write it in to ABC!”
“What do you mean you’re trying to find a replacement for me?” he asks.
“You left me,” I remind him with a slap to his chest. “You moved away and left me here. Then you got married to that annoying stuck-up witch. Do you know what she told me at the wedding? To let you go or she would make my life a living hell. Ha! Like I ever had you!”
“Camilla said that to you?” he asks.
“Yep.”
“Sorry. She was just jealous of our friendship,” Xavier says. “You should’ve told me.”
“Then I would’ve been the bitch, bitching to you about your new bitchy wife,” I say with maybe one too many b-words. “I didn’t want to lose you,” I tell him on a sigh.
“You’re not gonna lose me,” Xavier says. “I wouldn’t give you up for anyone, especially not a bitchy wife.”
“Good to know,” I say with a yawn. “Wow, what time is it? I’m so freakin’ exhausted.”
“It’s only eight p.m., Cass. The sun is still up.”
“No way,” I argue. “Clock and sky are all wrong...”
Xavier
I’ve never seen Cassidy wasted. When we were seniors, we would sneak a few beers from our parents when we went camping. She would drink a half a can and be out like a light. That’s why I didn’t like sneaking them even though she would insist. I missed talking to her when she would fall asleep early.
There’s not much time left for her tonight either, judging by her heavy eyelids.
She falls asleep on me before I could even tell her about my talk with Coach Briggs.
There’s always tomorrow. For now, I’ll let her rest and sober up.
If she’s not awake in a few hours, I’ll carry her to bed and be sure to leave a trash can nearby for when she gets sick. I have no doubt she will.
While she’s out, there’s not much to do but look at her since the television is off and the remote is across the living room. Her face is rosy and glowing thanks to her buzz. My mind goes back to the way she was talking, or more like rambling, when I got home. I didn’t like hearing her say she tried to find a replacement for me. I mean, I get that she’s made a lot of new friends over the years, which is great, but I don’t want anyone else to become her new best friend. And I meant what I said to her. No matter what Camilla or anyone wanted, I would never cut Cassidy out of my life. Sure, I may live over two-thousand miles away, and a lot may have changed in both of our lives these last ten years, but our friendship has been unwavering.
I guess one of the best things to come out of my wife cheating on me is that I can talk to Cass and spend more time with her without the pouting, evil eye or guilt trip.
Not that I had anything to feel guilty about.
Cass and I have always been friends and nothing more.
And sure, when we were teenagers, I may have had a few naughty dreams starring Cass that I felt terrible about. I assume that I only had those unconscious thoughts because we spent so much time together and I had raging hormones like every other boy my age. When morning came, I would feel gross and ashamed of the images my brain could spit out when I was asleep, so I would push them way down deep and pray they stayed there.
Now, I just have to figure out why I keep getting turned on looking at Cass since I showed up at her house yesterday.
It could be my newly single status, but I never had a serious girlfriend before Camilla.
So that just leaves me with a need to sleep with every woman I encounter to prove my masculinity in bed after Camilla destroyed my ego.
And I refuse to go down that road with Cassidy even though, after her honest, drunken rant, I think she would be agreeable to crossing that line with me.
“Let’s get you to bed,” I eventually tell her when I try to sit her up, but her head falls right back down on me.
“I’ll sleep here,” she mumbles.
“You can’t sleep on top of me all night,” I tell her, and her fists ball up in the front of my shirt.
“Sounds good to me,” she says, snuggling closer.
Having her sleep on me in bed sounds good to me and my cock too, but she’s drunk and my best friend, so I need to beat those thoughts into submission.
“Come on,” I say, getting to my feet with my arm around her shoulders. Once I’m standing, I lift her legs to cradle her to my chest and start up the stairs to her dark bedroom.
As I lean forward to reach and throw her bed sheets back, our faces come together and then Cass’s lips are on mine. I try to pull away because she’s obviously drunk and doesn’t know what she’s doing or even who I am. But then she makes a sexy moan sound deep in her throat and tightens her grip on my neck, holding me to her. Cass’s insistent tongue swipes along my lips until I part them and allow her entry.
And fuck, it feels amazing.
Too good, in fact, given her current intoxicated condition.
“Cass,” I whisper against her lips as I lower her down onto the mattress. “You’re drunk, Bambi. Get some sleep.”
“Please, Xavier,” she murmurs without opening her eyes or relaxing her grasp on me. And I’m not sure if it’s better or worse that she knows who I am. “I’ve waited soooo long for this.”
When I don’t lean down toward her, Cass lifts her head up until our lips are pressed together again to resume our kiss. I’m an idiot too, because I kiss her back so hard that her head returns to the pillow.
Thankfully or unfortunately, I’m not sure which, Cass’s doorbell chooses that moment to ring, making me pull away from her, gasping.
“Are you…were you expecting company?” I ask her softly in the dark room while I continue to try and catch my breath and wrap my head around what the fuck just happened. Cass knew it was me, said my name even, and proceeded to pour her soul into the best kiss of my life.