Graceless - Page 50

“Great, well now you know how I feel all the time,” they admitted. She smirked. They turned the horses around and headed back across the wide golden meadow. “What are you working on?” they asked after a while.

“How do you mean?”

“Like, are you writing?”

Cassidy sighed.

“I’m a little stuck,” she said. “Watching Brynn and everyone work is beyond intimidating. Then, at home…there’s Savannah Grace, you know? It’s this huge house, but it feels like she’s everywhere, just casually being a sensation. I can’t hide away and play guitar anywhere there, and I feel way too self-conscious to sing.”

Lane frowned.

“I’m out a lot,” they said after a while. “A lot of the time I’m at work, with Tucker. Then there’s class. The guesthouse is pretty big. You can go hang out there to write, or sing, or play or whatever. I won’t be there, so it’ll be totally private.”

Cassidy gazed at them for a long moment, her eyes softer than they’d ever seen them.

“Seriously?” she asked. Lane shrugged and nodded. “Thank you,” she said, her voice low and sweet. Lane watched her face so long they nearly got swiped off the horse by a tree branch that Misty helpfully wandered under. Cassidy laughed so hard she dropped the reins and made Jasper jump as they ducked and cursed.

Back at the stable, they unsaddled the horses in companionable silence and set them free. Side-by-side, they walked back down through the fields, talking easily, like they were friends. They arrived on the back lawn, at the spot where Lane should go one way and Cassidy the other.

“I had a good time.” Cassidy stopped and looked at them. And just like that, it felt like the end of a date. A good date. Damnit. Lane imagined cupping her face, kissing her lips, sliding their fingers into her soft hair.

“Me too,” they said. They looked at each other a beat too long. Lane didn’t want to let her go, and they still weren’t sure what that meant. It felt like a crossroads of sorts. On one hand, they could kiss her, make damn clear what this was starting to feel like. On the other hand, they could smile at her and walk away, committed to the friend path that was also, it seemed, possible. Taking instead what was the most non-committal, perfectly confusing option, they leaned in and softly kissed her cheek. They heard her breath catch.

“See you at dinner?” they said and she nodded silently, her eyes never leaving their face. Filled with conflict, Lane walked away.

Chapter Seventeen

Dinner was awkward again, and yet at the same time, not awkward at all. It was awkward because Lane found themself opposite Cassidy, and spent the entire meal trying to keep track if they were staring at her too much or not making eye contact enough. Surely everyone at the table could see how lit up they were, the sparks between them flying furiously every time one glanced at the other. Were they being obvious?

And yet it also wasn’t awkward for once, because Cassidy was in a good mood, chatting warmly with her sister and Brynn, playfully interacting with Tucker and poking verbally at Lane just enough. Savannah looked relaxed and Brynn didn’t have to be on high alert to defuse anything, so she just smiled, played off Cassidy’s energy and teased her wife. Lane watched Cassidy, while trying not to watch Cassidy, the heat in their lower belly only matched by the warmth in their chest.

That night, Lane lay awake, both wondering if Cassidy might show up, and wondering if she was lying in her own bed thinking of them, or if it was just Lane that was getting this tied up in knots.

The next few days passed similarly. Lane didn’t seek her out – they were far too confused for that – but every time they saw her there was something palpable between them, in Cassidy’s slightly knowing smile across the breakfast table, or in Lane’s lingering gaze as they moved around each other in the living room, the rest of the family swirling about, oblivious. One evening, they ended up in the pool together, practically circling each other, Cassidy’s eyes daring them, Lane’s eyes devouring her, nothing acknowledged verbally, but everything still spilling out in every loaded gaze, until Lane had all but fled the water.

The next afternoon, Lane took advantage of a slightly cooler day to go for a run, hoping to clear their mind and their body of the edgy energy that was nagging at them. They slowed to a jog for the last mile back through the fields to cool down before arriving back at the guesthouse. Opening their front door, they jerked back in surprise to find Cassidy right there on the other side, on her way back out.

“Oh my god!” she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Hey!” they said, still catching their breath. “Were you…here to like, write, or something?” So far, Cassidy hadn’t seemed to have taken them up on the offer.

“Actually,” she said, her eyes flickering down their body, snagging on Lane’s chest before jerking back up to meet their gaze, “I snuck in to give you something, to say thank you. I thought I’d write here tomorrow when you’re at school, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” said Lane. “You didn’t have to give me anything.” There was some kind of five bell alarm ringing in their body at the sight of her, the little white tank top that clung to her with just the tiniest hint of cleavage – no goddamned bra – the small denim shorts that Lane could just flick open with one finger. Her mouth. Her thighs. They were both still just inside the front door. Lane closed it, with Cassidy on the inside. She looked up at them, caught the look in their eyes, and her pupils dilated.

“It’s just cookies,” she murmured, not looking away. Then she turned and walked further back into the guest house, Lane only a beat behind her. True to her word, a plate covered in a neat tea cloth sat on the dining table. “Savannah said you’re a fiend for all kinds of cookies, so I baked you some,” she said, stopping next to the table. She turned and looked at them again, her eyelashes flickering slightly as she realized how close Lane was.

“Why are you blushing?” Lane asked curiously, seeing the heat rising in her throat up into her cheeks.

“You’re all sweaty,” she said, staring at their chest. Lane looked down at themself, suddenly self-conscious.

“Oh. Sorry,” they started, but Cassidy had stepped closer.

“Your t-shirt is clinging to you.” She bit her lip. “Like, to every muscle.” Lane swallowed. “And I like the way you smell,” she said, her eyelashes slowly rising. “I don’t know what that’s about. I’ve never liked the smell of someone’s sweat before.”

“Pheromones.” Lane’s voice was husky. “I think we probably have really good ones.”

“Yeah.” She darted out her tongue to wet her lips. Then she took a shaky breath. “Lane,” she whispered. “Why are you still doing this to me? To yourself? I think it’s pretty clear you like me.”