Women. I think the word says it all. Beautiful. Addictive. Fucking crazy.
I read her text message again.
You left your shirt and Mom found it, but I played it off as Fiona’s. The best part? Your dad was here and identified it. :( I’m also 99% sure he called me a whore…so there’s that. It was fun, Caleb, but I don’t think continuing “this” is something we should do. I’m sorry.
C.
I read it again. And again. Each time the text packs more and more of a punch. I don’t respond to it. I just read it.
Before I know it, Saturday is over, it’s Sunday morning, and I’m still staring at the words she typed. Did I sleep? Fuck. I don’t know. I probably dozed off here and there, but I definitely didn’t get my eight hours.
Dad came out to the pool house around dinner time last night. I didn’t open the door, but I listened to him apologize for leaving Penelope’s photo in the hall.
I shudder and lock my phone. I don’t even want to think about it. I’m back in the black hole and it fucking sucks.
I toss my phone to the other side of my bed and tuck my hands behind my head. Mass starts in an hour and a half. The thought of going to the church and pretending today isn’t something I want to do. Would Cassia’s parents even bring her? Talking to her is the only thing that’ll get me out of this bed. I reach for my phone and hit the home button.
Knock. Knock.
Dad taps at my door, but I ignore it. I need a few more minutes to get my game face on. I scroll to Cassia’s name and hit the message button. Her message pops up again, the one I’ve been staring at since yesterday. I delete it and type a fresh new one.
You going to church today?
She texts back immediately and I can’t help the smile that curves my lips. Did she spend the night waiting by her phone? Did she wait up in anticipation, expecting me to show up on her balcony? I thought about it…but when I’m this numb I can barely move my legs.
Yes. Caleb…I meant what I texted you. We. Can’t. You stay on your side of the church and I’ll stay on mine.
C.
Fuck that. I want her on my lap. For now, the mere thought of seeing her again is enough to get to me out of bed. Her oceanic blue eyes, the golden waves in her hair…slim hips…long legs. I drop my head back and swallow.
Jesus. Fuck. I’m in deep.
See you soon.
I text her, raking my fingers through my flat hair. I roll my shoulders back and shake my head. Sunday Mass. Walk in. Sit. Read prayer. Walk out. That’s all I have to do. I have three Bible study classes on today, consecutively after lunch, but I’m going to cancel them all and maybe take Cassia to the carnival—or to see a movie. Maybe I’ll ask her dad’s permission. If he says no, I’ll take her anyway. What’s he going to do? Fight me?
Excitement leaks through the thick, black vines that restrict my chest. This is a good feeling…and I hold onto it tightly. If I have to spend another minute in this depressing state of mind I’ve managed to sink back into I just might do something stupid.
My phone vibrates in my hand as Dad calls my name.
Why does that make me nervous?
C.
“Caleb?”
I drop my phone on the bed and cross the room to the glass doors. I pull back the thick, beige blind and Dad and I come face to face. He’s in his getup and his lips are pursed impatiently.
“Yeah?”
“We have to leave in fifteen minutes. Are you ready?”
I glance down at my naked torso and gray sweatpants. Do I fucking look ready? I flick the lock on the door and he tugs it open.
“Give me a minute. I gotta find a shirt.”
I amble across the floor toward the oak set of drawers against the far wall by the fish tank.
“If you need a shirt, I can retrieve the one you left at the Claire house. Specifically in their daughter’s room.”
Ooh, how passive aggressive of him. Maybe what she said is true. Maybe he did insinuate that she is a whore. I wonder what her reaction was. She’s not a whore, but hearing it come from a priest kinda makes it comical.
A smile spreads over my lips and I glance over my shoulder. “I left a t-shirt? In Cassia’s room?”
He tightens his jaw and threads his fingers at his thighs. “I recognized the shirt the second I saw it.”
I laugh as I pull out the second drawer. “What do you think breakfast and prayer leads to exactly? Have I been doing it wrong this whole time? Should I be taking off my clothes?”
“This is serious, Caleb.”
I shrug. “It wasn’t my shirt.”
It most definitely was my shirt. I took it off when she let me into her room hours after I fucked her silly in the hall behind the church and hours before she rode my dick on the floor of her bedroom. I came in her, filled up her womb with my come until it dripped from her cunt. She took it all. Her body lapped it up like water on a sponge. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if I had a baby Caleb in here crying its ass off in nine months’ time.
“I saw the shirt. Your shirt the white one with the moose.” He argues.
He can dispute my word all he likes, but I have evidence to back it up. Albeit false evidence, but, hey. Tomayto, Tomahto.
“Cassia is a bad influence on you.”
I roll my eyes as I rummage through my shirt drawer. Lucky for her, I’m particularly fond of the Crazy Moose tee. I bought two of them. I pluck the shirt from my drawer and toss it to Dad.
Frowning, he catches it and opens the shirt. I rest against my drawers, crossing my feet at my ankles. The look on his face makes me feel smug. If only Cassia could be her to watch me save her ass.
Guilt flashes over Dad’s aging face, whatever he said to her…he definitely regrets every word now.
He analyzes the shirt before throwing it back to me.
“My mistake…”
Catching it, I nod. He doesn’t have to apologize to me. I’m not the one he shat all over. Cassia deserves the apology—even though it was my shirt they found in her room. I feel bad for the girl…it’s not fair she has her character dragged through the mud. It’s just not.
Dad turns around, his ridiculous vestment brushing the brick steps at his feet. I don’t know why he feels he has to wear it. It looks outdated as hell and the stares we get when he’s pumping gas is fucking embarrassing.
“She’s a good girl, Dad.” I blurt out, scratching the back of my head.
He turns around, his face the perfect picture of indifference.
“She’s not what her parents make her out to be. She’s…all right? You know?”
He nods, clearing his throat. “I believe you.”
****
I wait on pins and needles from my spot on the altar. People flood in through the doors, but I don’t see Cassia. Every time a blonde female steps over the threshold my heart leaps into my throat, only to be let down seconds later. I thought about texting her five minutes ago, but if she’s with her parents she won’t see it. What am I talking about ‘if’. Of course she’s with her parents. They don’t take a shit without her in their sights. It’s a miracle they even let her work a day job and sleep in her own room.
As another throng of people slip through the door and shake my father’s hand, I spot a familiar face—a face I haven’t seen since that vague Sunday morning.
Natalie.
I watch her curiously, raking my eyes from her shoes to her head just to make sure she isn’t concealing a gun somewhere in her low cut tank top. She was pretty mad when she left…Thankfully, she sits down with her family and doesn’t even blink in my direction. Natalie pulls her chocolate hair over her shoulder and tightly folds her arms over her chest. Good. Here’s hoping she ignores me for the rest of the morning.
Exhaling, I lean back against my chair. Where is she? I didn’t get out of bed for her not to show up. If she doesn’t show, I’m driving to her house. Fuck her parents.
Family by family, person by person, the church fills up and my hopes crumble.
Until she’s here.
I straighten my spine. Holy shit. My mouth dries up at the sight of her in a lengthy white dress that ties up behind her neck. The plain, white fabric cradles her braless tits, the firmness of her nipples seen from miles away. Her blonde waves shield her beautiful face as she glances down at the Bible in her hands. Behind her, Marcus is engaged in a conversation with Anthony Minesota, a shit house stockbroker from New Jersey. I’ve never liked Anthony or his children…but then again, I don’t like most people.
Marcus is so busy chatting about God knows what he doesn’t even notice Anthony’s eldest son, Jeremy, slip in next to Cassia. I frown at him and his stupid gray jacket. Who wears a sports jacket with fucking sweatpants? Honestly. This guys a fucking asshole and he’s embarrassing himself.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my thighs as he opens his stupid mouth. Cassia whips her head in his direction. He must crack a joke because she fucking laughs and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.
I’m off my ass before I know it, the bottom of my shoes tapping against the varnished flooring at my feet. Church attire. It sucks.
I tug at the hem of my black button up shirt and smooth my hands down my chest. What does he think he’s doing anyway? He might be fooling her with his kind and boyish smile, but he’s not fooling me. The guy is a fucking savage. I’ve seen him at parties, raging out of his mind. I know I’m not good for Cass, but he is definitely not good for her.
Besides, he’s a fucking brunette. Cassia would never suit a brunette.
Cassia spots me coming and sidesteps toward the confession booths. Jeremy cuts her off and their fucking parents keep walking without a glance. She glances at me as Jeremy brushes his hand along her shoulder in a faux display of comfort. I will punch this guy right in his mouse-like face.
A few feet away, I hear her tell him she’s fine and that she doesn’t need fresh air. Where the hell did this guy come from anyway? He hasn’t approached her before so why is he touching her now? Whatever the reason, it needs to stop.
Cassia doesn’t look at me as I saunter up to her and stand close, but Jeremy does. He quirks a dark eyebrow and drops his hand back to his side.
“Chase a different skirt, Jeremy.” I tell him. “This one is mine.”
His black eyes widen, his eyebrows curving into soft arches. “Oh. You two are—”
“—not dating.” Cassia chips in, pinning me with an annoyed glare.
Not technically. I smile at her and my stomach flips, filling me with untapped excitement. You beautiful bitch.
“We’re totally dating.”
Jeremy runs the palm of his hand over the back of his head. “This isn’t confusing at all…”
She laughs, awkwardly, and sways hard enough to elbow me in the ribs. Hissing, I clench my side. She’s out of her fucking mind if she thinks I’m going to walk away. I like her.
I really like her.
What I don’t like are dicks like Jeremy who think talking to her is…okay. Yes, I’m aware that sounds ridiculous, but the thought of him doing something as harmless as talking to her rubs me the wrong way. Maybe I’ve finally fallen off the deep end.
“Let me clarify it for you.”
“Caleb.” Cassia warns, wrapping her hand, her skin as soft as silk, around my wrist and squeezes.
“I don’t mean any disrespect, Jer, but I fuck her incredibly well. Incredibly well.”
“Caleb.” She hisses, dropping my wrist.
“There’s absolutely no way your teeny tiny little dick could ever please her the way she so desperately needs to be pleased.”
Cursing, Cassia storms off and hides inside a confession booth. Was it something I said?
“That’s a whole lot of information I could have done without.” Jeremy says, narrowing his eyes.
I shrug. “The more you know.”
He shifts uncomfortably, his shoulders sagged. “So…you two…you’re really…?”
And his hopes and dreams shattered before his eyes, the possibility of sinking his micro-peen into the sweetest pussy I’ve ever had the pleasure of sticking disintegrates into thin air.
“Fucking? Oh yeah.”
“And she likes—”
Tsking, I clench my fists. “Think about your question and then ask yourself if it’s worth getting your ass kicked for.”
He glances around. “We’re in church…”
Slow clap. I should slow clap. “Not much gets by you, does it?”
Jeremy scowls and straightens his jacket and I’m bored already. I step around him and head for the confession box.
“For the record, I wasn’t trying to sleep with her.”
I laugh, peering over my shoulder. “Lying is a sin, Jeremy, and so is snorting cocaine. You know, since we’re already listing your fuckups.”
Worry etches over his young features for the briefest moment before he pinches his face into a scowl. Of all the parties I’ve seen him at, he hasn’t noticed me once so he has nothing to throw back on me.
“You’re an asshole.”
I simper. “So I’ve been told.”
Jeremy walks away, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. He’s not the worse guy, but he sure as shit ain’t good enough for Cassia.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Cassia sighs as I slip into the confession booth beside her. Her sweet perfume—vanilla today—swirls around me, lulling me into a sense of security.
It’s quiet in here and warm, its close walls providing a feeling of comfort.
“I’m mad at you.” Cassia growls from the other side over the divider. I slide open the small, wooden door and peer through the dark, cane grating. I can barely see her which is fucking depressing.
“You’re mad? I was doing you a favor.”
“Doing me a favor?” She hits the wall and it vibrates up my arm. “I was having a casual conversation.”
“With Jeremy Minesota.”
“So? You don’t get to decide who I can and can’t talk to.” She leans in close and in the dim light, I see the hollow of her throat and the gloss on her lips. “And even if I decided to bang Jeremy Minesota—which I wouldn’t—that’s none of your business. Your cock isn’t the be-all end-all of cocks, Caleb.”
Jesus. I’m so fucking hard. “Say that again.”
“What?”
I stroke the lattice with my index finger. I want to touch her mouth. “I love the shape of your lips when you say that word.”
Her lips part as she lets out a shaky exhale. “You have to go. I don’t want to be seen with you.”
Impatience dances with frustration inside me and I clench my jaw. Oh, this girl is driving me insane.
“I want to be with you, Cassia. Who the fuck cares what anyone else thinks?”
“You want to be with me? For real?” She snorts. “Are you feeling okay?”
“No. No I’m not feeling okay.” I rake my fingers through my hair. “There’s a swirling in my stomach that won’t stop and a thumping in my chest that prevents me from sleeping. I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s linked directly to you. When you’re not with me, my palms sweat and my brain scrambles. I feel needy and tired, and…I just want you.”
Who would have thought I’d be the one begging her for a relationship? That’s not how this usually goes.
“I sent you a text yesterday.”
“Fuck your text. I deleted it. What are you so afraid of? Hm? Failing your parents? Here’s a newsflash for you, Cass, they’re the ones who failed you. I mean, look at you. Look at your life. What nineteen year old lives in a cage?”
Her slender fingers grip the lattice and she pulls herself closer until her face is an inch from mine. “Oh, I’m the weird one? You are so worried about hurting your father you completely hide yourself, molding into the good boy he wants you to be. You’re not good. You’re depraved, you’re sadistic, and you’re unstable.”
Ha!
“You don’t think I fucking know that? But since we’re rubbing salt in each other’s wounds here’s a few more traits you can use against me. I’m selfish, spoiled, angry, and unreliable. I’m arrogant, stubborn, and masochistic too, but unfortunately for you, you are the one I want.”
The burning anger in my chest fades away. Is this all a waste of time? She truly doesn’t want to be with me? Is the connection I thought we built only one-sided? Maybe I misinterpreted her…this whole time I thought she’d helplessly fall for me, but as it turns out, I’m the idiot who has fallen for her.
“I thought that maybe you like me enough to take a risk and do something for yourself for a change. Your parents are sucking the life out of you. If that’s worth more than what I’m offering you, fine, but don’t come crying to me when you realize what they want is unachievable and you’ve wasted a good portion of your life chasing an invisible accolade. You want to live like a nun, be my guest, but I’m done trying to convince you that what we’re doing is normal.”
Letting go of the lattice, she settles back into the seat, disappearing into the dark. I wait for a response or a curse word—something, ANYTHING—that clues me in on what she’s thinking. All I get in return is a muffled sob and it punches me in the gut.
“You’re crying?”
I don’t want to make her cry, I just want her to understand that I’m willing to toss it all up in the air for her and wait for the dust to settle.
I’m in panic mode. Why? Because I haven’t cut myself in a while and now the only thing I have that stops me from doing that doesn’t want to see me anymore. My ribcage vibrates in my chest and threatens to tear it open.
I can’t be here.
I can’t be in here with her—with her crying and her sweet scent. It’s driving me mad.
I kick open the door and step out into the bright light. Everyone is settled in their seats, none of them aware that my feelings are being crushed underneath the heel of a dainty foot. To go from feeling nothing…to feeling everything…and then have someone try and stuff it all back into a suitcase that’s much too small is agony. Eleven years of torment unleashed with no one to keep it in check.
“Fuck!” I shout at the top of my lungs, raking my fingers through my hair.
Everyone whips around and gapes at me in horror. Screw all of them! What have they done for me? My sanity unravels rapidly and my blood rushes, filling me with misplaced adrenaline. I spot Marcus and Linda and their shocked expressions in the middle of the room. I clench my fists and storm across the floor to the door. To attack them in front of everyone else will only make things worse.
I slip outside in need of fresh air, but it doesn’t help. I pace back and forth while Dad addresses the church, palming my outcry off as an ‘overwhelming time of the year’ due to the deaths of Penelope and Mom. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s the reason I’m feeling so erratic. Hell, maybe it’s the reason I’m clinging so desperately to Cassia.
I don’t know, but what I do know is, it fucking sucks. I’d take feeling numb over this any day. At least when I was numb, I had control over my own body.
I stroll away from the door as my father begins his sermon and drop my ass against a wooden bench. Funny enough, it’s the same wooden bench Cassia was sitting on when I first spoke to her. She was absolutely killing it in that blue dress.
I rest my elbows on my thighs and lean forward, dropping my face into my hands. Today is not a good day.
“You have some nerve, young man.”
I whip my head up only to meet Agnus in a salmon maxi dress and matching coat. She clenches her cane and hobbles over to me.
“Swearing in the Lord’s house like that—and on a Sunday no less.”
As she nears, I stand up and offer my hand. She takes it and I ease her onto the bench. I should have known she’d come after me.
I exhale and sit down beside her. I don’t know what to say. Talking is the last thing I want to do.
I roll my shoulders. “Sorry.”
“Your father said—”
“I heard what he said.” I cut in, earning a tight pout from Agnus. “He has no idea what he’s talking about.”
She makes a tight, thoughtful noise in her throat, planting a second hand on the curve of her walking cane. “Girl trouble?”
I shrug. “Of a different kind.”
“Finally got bitten by the love bug, eh?”
I flinch and push myself to my feet. The love bug? Let’s not make mountains out of molehills. I bend low and scoop up a flat stone. In turn it in my hands, rubbing the smooth edges along my index finger. I’m not in love…I’ve fallen, but I haven’t hit anything yet. If anything, I’m still in freefall mode, waiting for Cassia to meet me at the bottom at least.
“I’m not in love.” I cock my arm back and toss the rock over the parking lot and into the trees. “We’ve been fooling around less than a month.”
“It’s not impossible…my late husband and I fell in love in the span of one dinner and we were married within two weeks.”
I face her. “And how long did that last?”
Her thin, textured lips tug at the corners. “Almost sixty years.”
“Not too shabby.” I say, smiling.
A sixty year marriage. Fancy that…
Agnus chuckles. “No, it’s not. These days, they say love knows no bounds, but then criticize those who dive in too early. The stigma surrounding love in today’s society takes the fun out of the experience and that’s all it is, Caleb. An experience. It’s okay to be in love for a minute, an hour, a day, and even a year because being in love isn’t the point. The point is the happenstance of it happening in the first place. Love is timeless and it can be as short lived as it is everlasting. You can fall in love once, or a million times and each time is just as elating and as beautiful as the previous. I’ve loved three men in my life and I had wonderful experiences with all of them, no matter how brief. You’d be a fool to let it go.”
I rake my teeth against my bottom lip and kiss my teeth. “She doesn’t feel the same as me. She’s held back by family judgement.”
“Ack.” Agnus spits, flicking her hand at me. “Family judgement? There’s no such thing. My parents hated my husband and you know what he said? He said; if they judge you, they’re not your family. She should know that.”
I sigh and inhale. Inch by inch, the frustration I felt drains out through my feet. I wish Agnus could go in and talk to Cassia. Agnus makes sense. She’s old and wise as hell, there’s no way Cassia wouldn’t take anything she says to heart.
Agnus coughs, pulling me from my thoughts. My lungs burn with the air I didn’t exhale and I rush it out quickly as Agnus pushes on her cane and lifts herself to her feet.
“Come on.” She says, holding out her hand.
I bend my arm at the elbow and she wraps her fingers around it, shuffling uncomfortably.
“I’m not going back in there.”
“They understand, Caleb.” She clears her throat. “You’re not missing Sunday Mass over a girl. God deserves your undivided attention.”
Uncertainty twists my stomach, but I walk her back inside anyway. If I don’t, I’ll never hear the end of it. No one notices us slip into the church and take our seat on the very back pew. My father does, but he barely makes eye contact. A white movement to my left pulls my attention and I turn my head to see Cassia slipping down the side of the church, moving toward her parents. She keeps her head ducked, her face shielded by her hair.
My heart does that stupid fluttery thing and I cringe. What am I going to do?
“I take it that’s the girl?” Agnus asks, leaning in.
I pat her hand, the one that’s still around my elbow and nod.
“That’s the one.”
Agnus and I watch Cassia as she perches on the end of a bench. Tucking her hair behind her ear, Cassia flicks her sights over her shoulder and locks me in her stare. I’ve never been good at reading expressions so Cassia either feels sorry for me or she’s still pissed I destroyed the budding conversation between her and Jeremy. Admittedly, I did make a dick of myself, but that’s how it is. It’s who I am.
“She’s beautiful.” Agnus whispers, nudging me in the ribs.
That’s the fucking understatement of the century. Bile rises and burns at my throat. Agnus is right. She is beautiful, but she’s also funny and smart. She has a big heart too.
“Yeah. She is.”
****
Agnus dozes off during the sermon and her heads end up against my shoulder. I can’t help, but chuckle every time she snores. I’ve witnessed her pass out a few times, not that she’ll ever admit it, and it never gets old. She’s a sweet old lady…
When the time for the closing prayers comes, I expect Dad to call on me. Thankfully, he saves me the humiliation by selecting someone else—someone I never expected.
Cassia.
I glance up at the ceiling. How convenient. It’s not enough that she doesn’t want me in return, but now I gotta look at her too?
Swallowing her obvious discomfort, she reads the prayer flawlessly, but she doesn’t look happy. This isn’t the life she wants—the parents, the church—but she puts up with it anyway. I peer over at Marcus and even though I can only the see the side of his face, his pride and his happiness is obvious. Beside him, Linda clasps her hands at her chest, ever the proud mother. It’s almost sickening to watch them beam at her.
“Amen.” Cassia says, closing her Bible.
“Amen.” We say, our voices a deep murmur.
Agnus jolts awake and I roll my eyes as she straightens her posture and makes a comment on the way Cassia delivered the prayer.
“She’s did wonderfully.”
I chuckle. “Yeah.”
Clenching her Bible, the one with the black leather and gold pages, Cassia steps down. Her big, blue gaze flickers to me and sympathy flashes across her features. Painful tendrils of anxiety burrow through my chest.
Sympathy.
I drop my stare to my shoes.
Yep.
Being numb is definitely better than this.