Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
I’ve just pulled a pair of gray sweatpants up my hips when I glimpse a flash of movement next door. It’s messed up, this strange synchronization Cassie and I have going on. As she passes her window, I narrow my eyes, frown, then grab my phone to text her.
Me: You’re wearing pink to your carnival date? No.
Cassie: Why not??
Me: Because you’ll get lost in a sea of cotton candy. You won’t stand out.
Cassie: But I look cute in pink.
I can’t argue with that. As it happens, she looks cute in everything, but I keep that observation to myself. I insisted I only wanted to be friends. Telling her how hot she is would only send mixed signals and confuse us both. And to be honest, I’m enjoying the hell out of this friendship. Hanging out with Cassie feels so damn natural. We have fun together, and there’s no pressure on my end to be on top of my game. I can be stupid and say whatever nonsense comes to mind, and, like a good friend, Cassie just laughs and doesn’t judge.
At the window, Cassie toys with the edge of her side braid, clearly mulling it over. She types another message.
Cassie: Okay. Stand by.
The curtains shut. But I don’t think she realizes they’re kind of sheer, especially when the bedroom light is on. The gauzy white material does very little to conceal the silhouette of the pinup girl next door.
Don’t look.
Too late.
Heat streaks through my bloodstream and settles in my balls, drawing them up tight. Oh fuck. I never knew a silhouette could turn me on so much. My throat is dryer than sawdust as I watch Cassie’s delectable shape move around the room. She disappears for a moment. In the walk-in closet, I think. Then she’s back and my dick weeps with joy. I’m semi-hard and unable to stop myself from staring. She’s in profile now. Her arms raise as she slips a garment over her head. The move makes her chest jut out, offering a perfect side-boob view.
Sweet Jesus.
She’s incredible.
Gulping rapidly, I wrest my pervy eyes away from her and make a mental note to jerk off next time before even thinking about stepping foot in my bedroom. It appears I need to curb all temptation before indulging in future window time.
The drapes part, and she reappears, clad in a white sundress. Instead of a bra, she’s wearing a bikini top, or at least I think that’s what those thin straps belong to. The pink strings peek out of her bodice, climbing up her collarbone to wind around her neck. The dress itself is knee-length, with a skirt that flutters around as she gives a little twirl before texting me.
Cassie: Now hear me out. Yes, I threw in a splash of pink with the bikini top. But that’s because I think it’s smart to color-coordinate with the cotton candy. We’ll complement each other.
Me: I’ll allow it.
Cassie: Do we like?
She does another twirl and I pretend the glimpse of bare thigh doesn’t do all sorts of things to my body.
I give her a thumbs-up, then type, Go get ’em, tiger.
* * *
Around midnight, I finally admit defeat and accept I can’t sleep. It has nothing to do with the fact that I haven’t heard a car engine next door or noticed her bedroom light flick on. She’s still out with that Aaron dude, clearly. Good for her. She deserves to have fun. My inability to fall into slumber is not Cassie-related at all. Like, at all.
I make my way down to the dock and sit at the very end of it, dangling my bare feet over the edge. But let’s say Cassie is the reason I’m still up. Obviously, this just means I’m a good friend. A friend who worries about the well-being of another friend. I mean, I know nothing about this Aaron kid. But I do know for a fact the carnival shuts down at eleven. So, really, she should’ve been home by now.
Unless she went back to his place.
My shoulders stiffen. His brother said they were staying in a rental on the north end, right on the water. The reminder makes me frown. I hope he doesn’t convince her to take a late-night dip. The waters up there are choppier. It’s where we usually go to surf. Swear to God, if fuckin’ Aaron allows Cassie to get sucked into the sea by a freak midnight riptide …
I’m suddenly craving a cigarette. I only smoke if I’m drinking, and then maybe one or two max, but right now I could use some help easing the jittery sensations inside me. My smokes are in the house, though, so I debate going for a swim instead. I allow the toes of one foot to skim the water, finding it much warmer than expected. I’m about to strip off my shirt and dive in when my phone lights up.