The Young Wives Club

Cash sighed, smoke filling the air. “We talked about this already, babe. You know I’m not in a place for something serious.”

Madison looked at the muddy ground, fighting back an inexplicable sadness. She was usually okay with their relationship—hell, she wasn’t the type to settle down either—so why did this bother her?

Cash nudged her with his shoulder, and she looked back up, her body tingling at his touch. “You know I think you’re cool,” he said, “and I care about you—that’s why I don’t want to hurt you.”

You just did, she admitted to herself.

She and Cash had been hanging out for three years now, ever since they began hooking up sophomore year. Every so often, she’d wonder if he was getting serious about her, like when he’d invited her to his parents’ house for his birthday dinner last year. She had met his cousins and uncles and even his PawPaw at a family barbecue, and he always called her “his girl.” But every time she started to feel like this could be something real, he’d do something to remind her that it wasn’t, like drop her home early to go to a house party without her or not call her for three weeks. He continually managed to find subtle ways to keep her in check.

Oddly, it wasn’t the romantic rejection that hurt Madison the most . . . it was how stupid she felt every time he did this to her. But it worked; every time he made her feel like she couldn’t have him, she wanted him more.

A hummingbird buzzed in front of them, stopping at the recycled bird feeder Cash’s mom had made out of Heineken bottles, and a cool breeze gusted through the trees. Madison shivered and pulled her sweater tighter around her.

“I understand,” she lied. “It actually works out better for me, too—if we’re not, you know, exclusive.” She sucked her cigarette and then blew the smoke out hard.

Cash glanced up quickly, a satisfying look of concern on his face.

“I was kinda feeling guilty about the whole George thing. But it makes me happy—relieved, actually—that you’re so cool with it.” She stroked his knee. If he was going to play games, she was, too. “We’re actually going away together for Mardi Gras.”

Cash cleared his throat. “You just said it wasn’t anything?” His voice had an edge to it now.

“Oh, yeah . . . it’s probably nothing,” she said, waving smoke away from her face. She could sense she was getting a rise out of him, and it made her happy.

“?‘Probably?’?” He angled toward her, finally giving her his full attention. “Whatever . . . fine, go with him. But you know you’re gonna come back here beggin’ for me.”

“?‘Begging?’?” Madison teased. “All I have to do is this, and you’ll be begging for me.” She crushed her cigarette into the ground and straddled him. He groaned in pleasure and pulled her body close to his. He smiled and ran his hands through her hair, sending a tingle down her spine. She kissed him, breathing in the taste of cheap beer and cigarettes. She knew it was silly but it turned her on because it tasted like Cash.

“Let’s go inside,” he whispered in her ear.

They left their drinks outside and hurried into the cabin. He ripped her sweater off as soon as they got inside, her shirt and bra following suit. She shivered in the cool air and ran her hands along his abs. Cash guided her to the black futon in the front room and lowered himself over her. His every move made Madison feel bad, but in a good way. He grabbed her hips so hard that the line between pleasure and pain vanished. Madison flipped on top and ground into him, both of them moving so vigorously that the futon creaked dangerously beneath them.

This was hands down the hottest sex they had ever had. Hotter than the first time, when Madison went dry-mouthed at the sight of his body. Hotter than the time they were both high and did it in her parents’ shed, laughing and moaning at the same time. Even hotter than the Halloween when she wore the purple wig and pretended to be a stranger. Something was different about this time, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what.

After it was over, they lay quietly for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling.

“You okay?” he asked, brushing her sweaty bangs off her forehead.

She smiled. “You just took it outta me, that’s all.”

Cash propped his head up with his arm, his brown eyes narrowing. “I make you happier than him, don’t I?”

Madison smirked. “Is someone jealous?” It was working. . . .

“No way,” he said defensively, pushing himself up. “Why on earth would I be jealous of some old loser?” He swung his legs over the edge of the futon.

“Right . . .” She sat up, grabbing her black bra off the floor, and clasping it back together.

Cash walked over to the minifridge, his long, dark hair falling over his shoulders, and grabbed another beer. “Let him take you to New Orleans, that’s fine,” he said, popping the top off. “Just wait until I go on tour, though. Baby, I’m gonna take you places you’ve never been before.”

A thrill ran through Madison. Cash had been talking about going on tour for months, but he’d never once mentioned bringing her. That hadn’t stopped her from imagining what it would be like, though—her man, the open road, cool clubs all over the country.

“Any news?” she asked, sitting back down on the futon.

“Max is working it out right now.” Cash sat down next to her and put his arm around her. “With any luck, we’ll be heading out in a few months.”

“Nice. Maybe George and I can come see you play.” She looked over at him innocently, knowing that would eat at him.

Cash’s lips curled and he shook his head. “Not cool, Blanchette. Not cool.”

She burst out laughing. “Too soon?”

Cash teasingly punched her arm and started tickling her.

“Stop!” she screamed, laughing uncontrollably. “I surrender! I surrender!”

He finally stopped and stared at her as if he wanted to say something more. Instead, he unhooked the bra she had just clasped and started kissing her again, harder and more passionately than before. Madison’s mind went blissfully blank. Every problem in her life—her dad’s cancer, her family’s money issues, her miserable job cleaning houses—all of it was forgotten as Cash made her focus on other things, like how good it felt when he did that or touched her there.

Madison surrendered to the moment, drinking Cash in. He made her feel better than any drug she had ever done, even though she knew he was just as bad for her, if not worse.





14


gabrielle


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