When we pull up in front of my apartment building, I almost don’t want to leave. There’s an energy firing between us. One that we’ve both suppressed for a long time. I’ve spent so much time training myself to be numb, I was getting worried that was all I’d ever be. It’s a relief to feel this lusty simmer; like someone who fears they’ll never walk again getting an unexpected tingling in their toes.
I’m about to reluctantly get out of the car when Holt turns off the engine.
I glance over at him. He’s still gripping the steering wheel and staring straight ahead. Tense always did look sexy on him.
He turns in my direction without actually looking at me. “So, you’ve been dating that Nick guy?”
“Sort of.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Why would you? We don’t talk.”
He leans back in his seat, and stares at the clock on the dash. “Did you sleep with him?”
It takes a moment for me to register what he just asked, but when I do, my hands curl into fists.
“Who I’m sleeping with is none of your business.”
“I know that, but—”
“Is that what was happening tonight? Cock-blocking him?”
He turns to me. “Do you seriously believe I’m that petty? I was trying to protect you, or were you okay with him shoving your hand down his pants and ignoring your pleas to stop?”
I fiddle with the button on my coat, knowing very well he was looking out for me. I just prefer to make him the bad guy. It means whatever is currently happening between us is easier to ignore.
He sighs and cracks his knuckles. “Forget it. You don’t have to tell me anything. What you do is your business. It was stupid of me to ask.”
He doesn’t say “sorry” but his tone is apologetic enough to persuade me to tell him the truth.
“I didn’t sleep with him.”
He loosens up just a bit, and the look of relief on his face is nearly laughable. “Good. He seemed like a prick. Better to be celibate than sleep with someone not worthy.”
“I didn’t say I was celibate.”
He blinks. “What?”
“You asked if I was sleeping with him. I’m not. But I’m not celibate.”
His browns furrow. “So, what? You’re sleeping with someone else?”
“Well, you could hardly call what we do sleeping.” I shouldn’t torture him with the details, but I really want to.
Silence hangs in the air between us for a few seconds.
“Who?”
“His name’s Buzz. He screws my brains out several times a week. Sometimes multiple times a day.”
Even in the dim glow of the streetlight, I see him go pale. He grips the steering wheel a little tighter. “Is he a student?”
“No.”
“How long have you been … seeing him?”
“About eight months.”
The muscles in his jaw go crazy. “What the hell, Cassie? You were fucking this Buzz asshole while you were going out with Date-Rape Nick?”
“Well, sure. I mean, Nick was okay, but Buzz and I are just about the sex.” I try not to laugh.
He leans his head against the steering wheel. “Jesus Christ.”
“Don’t you want to know how we met?”
“No.”
“Ruby introduced us At a sex shop.”
“Please stop talking.”
“She knew just by looking at him that he’d be able to make me come.”
He groans. “Fuck … Cassie. Please…”
“For a while I thought you were the only one who could get me off.”
“… stop…”
“But once I figured out he had multiple speed settings, he made me see stars, and I’ve been devoted to him ever since.”
“Too much fucking information. Literally.” Then he stops, and turns to me. “Wait … multiple speed settings?”
I have to smile. “Yep.”
He stares. “So Buzz is your … uh…”
“Vibrator. His full name is Sir Buzzalot. Best orgasms money can buy.”
He closes his eyes. “Yeah, you’d think that would make it better than fucking another guy, but it really doesn’t. You’ve been making yourself come … with a vibrator. I can’t even … God—”
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying his discomfort.
“Since we’re being all chatty and whatnot … what about you?”
He rubs his eyes. “I don’t own a vibrator.”
“You know what I mean. Are you sleeping with anyone?”
“No.”
“Dating anyone?”
He makes a noise that’s almost a laugh but not quite. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because if I were capable of dating someone, why the fuck would I have broken up with you?”
The silence solidifies between us. It feels like we have so much left to say after not speaking for so long, but neither of us knows where to start.
At last, he comes up with something appropriate. “Do you have any alcohol in your apartment?”
“Yeah. Tequila. Or wine.”
“Can I come in? I need a drink. Plus, I don’t really feel like going home. If I have to spend another night in my apartment alone, I’ll—” He shakes his head. “If you don’t want me to, it’s fine.”
I think of all the days he sits by himself to eat lunch. The way he separates himself in most social situations. Even when he started coming to parties again, he’d keep to himself. Was he just there to escape his solitude?
Throughout this whole thing between us, at least I’ve had people to support me. Ruby, Mom, my classmates. Hell, even his sister.
Who’s been there for him?
My pride is mad at me for feeling sorry for him, but I can’t help it.