by R. Cayden
“It’s okay. I just didn’t want to interrupt.” His voice was strained, but I could tell he was trying to act normal. “You should take her number. She was pretty.”
I turned to the fan, talking to her friends across the bar. Her feet were shoved into a pair of old black boots, and the back of her head was shaved. “I’m not sure she’s going for pretty.”
“Hot?” Shawn asked.
I shook my head. “I’m not interested.”
I noticed his shoulders relax. I appreciated that Shawn didn’t want to get in my business, but I could tell he was bothered by the flirtation, too. “You want to get out of here?” I asked. “We should probably get on the road.”
We paid up, splitting the bill down the middle, and walked in silence to the car. I could tell Shawn was still thinking about the woman. Not wanting us to slip into awkward quiet again, I stopped at the truck and decided to say something. “That kind of thing used to happen to me all the time,” I said.
Shawn folded his hands behind his back. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to get in your way.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I corrected quickly. “I hate when people only talk to me because of the band. It’s like they don’t care about the real me at all, just some fantasy they have.”
“So next time a hot girl tries to pick you up, I should butt in and ruin everything?” he asked, then fluttered his eyelashes at me, teasing. “I guess I can try. I might feel guilty, though, if I spend the whole summer cockblocking you.”
I chuckled. The parking lot was almost empty, and we stood beneath a redbud tree, blooming pink petals for the spring. There was a breeze in the air, tousling Shawn’s hair, and when he leaned up against the back of my truck, I noticed all over again how pretty he was.
An instinct grabbed me, urging me to step forward. Shawn’s lips parted, and I took his chin in my hand, then pulled him into a kiss.
His lips were soft, like silk pillows, and he rose up on his toes to greet me. We explored each other, our tongues meeting and parting again while I shivered from the sensation. One of Shawn’s hands landed on my side, and the other reached around, grabbing my shoulder as he bit softly on my bottom lip. It wasn’t different than kissing a woman, but it wasn’t the same, either. In some way that I couldn’t describe, it just felt like kissing Shawn, the way it should feel.
“Cass,” he whispered when I pulled back, a string of saliva glistening between our lips until it fell away.
“There,” I said with a grin. “Now you don’t have anything to feel guilty about.”
Chapter Eleven
Shawn
The morning after our trip to Louisville, I could still feel Cass on my lips. The heat of his stubble warmed my skin, and my bottom lip felt loose and plump, like he had just sucked it into his mouth.
In the shower, I pressed my forehead against the tile and stroked myself as I thought of it again. I slicked two fingers and shoved them back to tease my rim, old fantasies and new ones flying through my imagination. It felt so good I shot my load after only a minute, gasping as hot water beat my back.
My literal fantasy was coming true. His kiss helped me accept that, and now that I did, there was no way I was going to mess things up.
I took my time getting ready. I’d been grooming myself carefully since Cass showed up at the house, but that morning, I enjoyed the process of it, instead of just worrying that my hair looked weird. I picked out my favorite shirt, a bright pink one with galaxies all over it, something I usually only wore at home, and then a pair of denim shorts. I had cut them from an old pair of pants but accidentally made them way shorter than I intended.
I never really wore them, but hell, it was hard to throw something away when you know you look hot in it.
After tousling my hair a little in the mirror, I grabbed a glass of lemonade from the fridge. I was still working at night, so I hadn’t gotten up until eleven, but I knew Cass would have been out under the sun for a while already. I made my way into the backyard, then paused before the clump of trees that blocked the house from the studio to give myself one last pep talk.
Cass had kissed me. That hot stranger with tattoos and cool hair had thrown herself at him, and still, he’d turned around and kissed me. I had to let myself believe him when he said that he liked me and that he cared about the things I cared about.
Because I trusted him. Cass had always been good to me, and good to other people, too. Even when he and Leo were raising hell together, they never hurt anyone. They were just trying to find their own way.
And if Cass’s way brought him to me, I wanted to be there to meet him.
I took a deep breath and headed to the studio. He was standing on the deck, which was bigger than it used to be, and staring at his phone with a scrunched brow. He had on his black work boots and a pair of cargo shorts, but as usual, he was shirtless, the sun kissing his golden skin and playing across his tattoos.
“Hey,” I called. “How’s it going?”
Cass turned to me with a startle. I laughed as he licked his lips, staring me up and down. “Good morning to you,” he said, rolling his voice deep. “Cute shorts.”
I felt myself blushing, but I didn’t try to hide it as I walked up the stairs, newly installed. “Lemonade?”
“Thanks,” he said, taking the glass. “I was just trying to figure out this drawing from your brother. He wants a roof over the porch here. Did he talk to you about that?”
I took the phone and glanced at the drawing, a series of totally nonsensical squares with the words porch roof written next to them. I chuckled. “Yeah, he texted me. I think a roof sounds nice. And based on this drawing, whatever you come up with will work fine.”
He nodded and took his phone back. “I’m glad I don’t have to ask the guy at the lumber supply where they keep their floating squares.”
I laughed, then turned to the studio. The door and windows were open, and some of the interior was torn out along the back. A big sheet was tossed over what I assumed were the drums. The exterior was brightly repainted, catching the sunlight, and the porch felt sturdy under my feet. “It looks really good out here,” I said.
“I’m tackling the roof next, extending it out,” he said with a nod. “We’ll get it all nice and insulated properly for your mom or whoever else wants to use it. And next time I head to town, I’ll order a shower so I can finish the bathroom.”
“Great,” I said. “She’ll be excited. I swear, she’s going on so many trips with her retirement group this summer, she barely has any free time. But she loves it up here during the rest of the year, and she’s always talked about using the studio again.” I paused. “How are your parents, by the way?”
Cass shrugged. “About the same. I see them once a year, Christmas day. Fly in that morning, fly out in the evening. We don’t really keep in touch outside of that.”
I remembered that Cass had never gotten along with his folks. They thought they were big shots around town. His dad was a manager at the local bank, and his mom was working full-time as a doctor at the hospital. Neither of them did much except for trying to climb the ladders of their careers. I always figured their absence had something to do with why Cass acted out in the first place.
“Sorry you all aren’t close.”
He nodded, his eyes over the hillside as his lids lowered. “There’s worse things,” he said, letting the topic slip away.
I wanted to reach out and touch his arm, but I wasn’t quite confident enough to do something like that. Instead, I remembered why I had come out there in the first place. “Hey, I don’t want to interrupt you if you’re busy, but I had an idea.”
Cass turned back to me. He looked me up and down, his gaze prickling on my skin. “Oh yeah?”
“Not that,” I said with a laugh, my cheeks warming again. “See, I put on this noise when I study sometimes.”
“This noise?” he said, cocking an eyebrow up. “I’m listening.”
“It’s recordi
ngs from deep space,” I explained. “When NASA sends satellites around the universe, they sometimes take recordings, too.”
“Shit,” he said. “What does it sound like?”
“Well, they’re actually data sonification of magnetic—” I stopped myself, realizing that part didn’t matter, and grabbed my phone instead. “Here, let me play some for you.”
“Plug it into my speaker,” Cass said with a gesture. “Turn it up.”
I grinned as I turned on the recordings, excited to see Cass’s reaction. “This one is plasma waves coming off of a moon of Jupiter,” I said. The squeaky warble echoed out, beeping and humming over a static wind.
“Damn,” Cass said, his eyes closed. “That sounds amazing.”
“Yeah?” I asked. “This one is lightning on Jupiter, not far away.”
“Lightning?”
“There’s one storm on that planet that’s been raging for about two hundred years. It’s ten thousand miles long.”
Cass kept his eyes closed and nodded as I played through some more sounds for him, showing off the weird, hypnotic range. The noises sounded out across the hillside, earning appreciate grunts from him every now and then. When we were done, he had a pleased smile on his face, like he had eaten a big meal.
“Anyway,” I said, “I was thinking maybe it would be fun for you to drum to that sometime?”
Cass opened his eyes. “Huh.” He thought about it for a second, then nodded. “Hell yeah. Sounds fun.”
“Yeah?” I said, excited, then stuck my hand on my hip. “You don’t have to say that to humor me if it’s a bad idea.”
“I like it,” Cass said. “You want to give it a try now?”
I looked at the pile of tools on the end of the porch. Maybe I’d be the one distracting him for a change. “Yeah, can I listen?”
“Hell yeah. I’ve been trying to get you back here to listen to a solo for weeks.” He walked into the studio, then yanked the sheet back, sending a rattle through the instruments. I didn’t know the first thing about a drum set, but I could tell his was well loved. Silver and gleaming black, the drums were decorated with a few worn stickers and plenty of dings.
I set up a playlist while Cass dragged the set out onto the porch. He handed me a pair of spongy earplugs and tucked a pair in his own ears.
“When’s the last time you heard live music?” he asked.
I tried to consider it. “My friend Audrey’s sister’s wedding? I was her date last summer.”
Cass whistled. He spun a drum stick in his hand as he sat on a small stool. “A year is too long, Shawn. Now all the pressure is on me to make it special.”
My cheeks warmed. “I remembered you saying that you liked to drift away with your music, which is exactly how those recordings make me feel. Like I’m floating through space.”
Cass banged out a quick beat, then stretched his arms above his head. His muscles popped, and for once, I just let myself appreciate the sweat on his brow and the curls of hair on his chest. “Wait, one second,” he said suddenly, then went back into the studio, emerging a second later with a beach towel in his hand.
“Lay out on the grass,” he instructed. “You’ll be more comfortable, and then the drums won’t be rattling the porch beneath you.”
I took the towel and found a nice spot in the shade. Above me, white clouds dotted the sky, occasionally passing over the sun. The birds were chirping, and the spring buds had matured, filling the hillside with green. It felt good to be out in the daylight, and I closed my eyes, appreciating the warmth.
Cass turned on the recordings first, and the electric waves hummed through the air. Slowly, he started to tap the drums, building up a slow and steady rhythm that ran perfectly beneath the strange sounds. It was like hearing the familiar sounds for the first time all over again, and as the music built, I lost myself in the motion of it.
The motion Cass created. It throbbed out from him, and each beat of the drum reverberated into the heart of me. His strength echoed out, covering me like I was being held close to his body again.
It was amazing. I could hear the music in the crashing drums in a way I never had before. And I heard Cass in there, too, finding himself alongside the music of the galaxy, riding the same journey I was riding as I listened.
I stretched my legs and got comfortable on the blanket. Spangled light came through the tree branches, and I watched the shadows pass over my thighs. I laughed to myself, realizing that skin hadn’t seen the sun since I was a toddler, probably, the way I’d always covered myself up.
I was happy. Happier than I’d be in a long time, I realized.
Happy enough to believe that Cass and I could be real.
Chapter Twelve
Cass
I didn’t finish drumming until the playlist Shawn made finished, the last beeps dying out slowly. Totally spent from such a long set and riding the endorphin rush that came with it, I headed straight over to the grass and fell down beside him.
“How’d you like it?”
He smiled, his eyes still closed. “Very nice.”
The sun beat down on us, and as he laid there, I got a chance to really look at him. He had set his glasses off to the side and folded his hands over his belly, his delicate fingers laced together. My gaze traced over the soft dimple on his chin, the curve of his clavicle where his shirt dipped down, and the faint hairs on the backs of his arms. Every detail was fascinating to me, a mystery I could spend the rest of my life trying to solve.
Shawn opened his eyes. “What are you thinking about?”
I grinned. “Just trying to remember if I was really never attracted to a guy before.”
He leaned up on his elbow, then scrunched his face to the side. “Coming up with any long-buried memories?” he asked.
I looked up to the sky. “Thinking about locker rooms, favorite movie stars, jumping around in a mosh pit and banging into other dudes…” I trailed off, then shrugged. “Nothing.”
Shawn laughed. “I guess being hotter than a mosh pit is a good thing.”
I reclined on my elbows. “I’d say.” Shawn and I were facing each other, both in similar poses. He pointed the toe of his sneaker, and I stretched my leg straight alongside his.
Fuck, it was fun to flirt with him. Everything felt different than I was used to, new in all these ways I didn’t expect. It wasn’t just that he was a guy, but Shawn wasn’t anything like the people I knew in Nashville. He took me seriously, but not because I could kick ass behind a drum set. He just respected who I was, same as I respected who he was, and that felt pretty fucking nice.
I let my eyes wander up his legs, catching up a glimpse up his shorts. “There’s only one problem, though,” I said, dropping my voice closer to a whisper.
Shawn bit down a grin. Somehow, he was able to tell right away where I was going. “What’s that?”
I rested my hand over my crotch, dangling my fingers. My cargo shorts were bulky and loose, but my bulge stuck out, growing thicker as I stared at Shawn. “Since I haven’t been with a guy before, you’re going to have to show me what to do.”
Shawn bit down on his lip, his eyes watery as he stared at my crotch. “Fuck, Cass,” he said.
I pressed my palm down my cock, pushing it against my thigh. “What? You’re not going to show me?”
Shawn let out a shaky laugh. “I’m not the most experienced guy, you know.”
“Good,” I said. “We can figure some of this out together.”
I kept rubbing myself as I stared at Shawn. He bit down on his lip as he did the same, teasing his fingers over the stiff bulge in his shorts. A tremble shot down my spine as I watched him. He tensed at first, his movements timid, and I enjoyed the feeling of tempting him while his eyes traced over my body. The more eager, hungry need built in his eyes, the more he relaxed until he pushed his hands back, reaching toward his ass.
Fuck, it was a turn-on to see how much he wanted me. His whimpers, his quivers, all of it wrenched me, and I felt a
deep urge to satisfy him. I wanted to tease his body with my tongue, grip his hips from behind, and bury myself deep inside of him.
I spread my thighs, then shoved my shorts and my boxers down. My cock was heavy in my hand, hard as it had ever been, and I groaned at the relief of grabbing it and rubbing my callused hand up my shaft.
“Fuck,” Shawn whimpered. He flicked open the top button of his shorts, then rose up on his knees as he tugged down the zipper. Staring straight at me, he wiggled out of his shorts. His stiff cock strained against a pair of bright purple briefs, and my breath caught when I noticed the wet spot at his tip.
I wanted to play with him and stroke his pretty cock until he lost his damn mind.
Kicking my shorts off, I rose up to my knees, so close to Shawn. I spit in my hand and fisted my cock as he stared at me. The grass was warm on my legs, and the breeze sent another tingle across my skin.
“Can I?” I asked, nodding at Shawn’s cock. He was still palming himself through his briefs.
He nodded quickly. “Uh-huh,” he breathed.
I pulled myself closer until we were just a few inches away, each on our knees. Shawn’s breath was warm on my shoulder, and I could feel every quiver through his body, like a little reward for how I made him feel. I reached my hand out, then traced it over the V of his hips, fingering his waistband.
“So pretty,” I hummed to myself. “I want to make you come all over yourself.”
Shawn shook, then steadied himself with a hand on my chest. I jerked my cock close to him as I tugged his briefs down slowly, toying with them until his hard, pink cock popped out.
He was perfect. He curved a little to the side, and his crown glistened, sticky and slick. Soft, light hairs grew around his base, and his balls hung close to his body, begging me to roll them in my hand. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” I said. “Your little hips are hot, and your twitching cock is hot, and your pretty pink skin is so fucking hot.”