14 Zara
Don’t Fuck This Up
I read his text again even though I could probably recite it in my sleep at this point.
Cass:
Barely. I’m coming up now. Don’t go anywhere.
As if I could.
I’m sitting on the edge of his bed, bouncing my heel against the frame. Then I stand and start pacing. Then I sit again because my legs feel like they’ve forgotten how to function. The room feels too small and too loud even though it’s quiet.
His hoodie is thrown over the back of his chair. His skateboard is leaning against the wall by the door. There’s a half-empty bag of chips on his desk, his controller on top of his textbook like he used it as a bookmark. The familiarity of it makes my chest ache.
He broke up with Stacey.
Because he loves me.
Because I said I love him.
I press my palms into my thighs and try not to scream. Then I hear footsteps coming down the hall, heavy and familiar, almost too fast. My whole body goes tight as the knob turns, and the door opens.
Cass steps inside, and the moment our eyes meet, it’s like something in the room shifts on its axis.
He looks wrecked in the softest way, like he’s had to hold himself very, very still for too long and the effort is starting to kill him.
His shoulders are tense, jaw set, hair a little messed up like he ran his hands through it on the walk over.
We stand there for a moment just staring at each other.
“Hey,” slips out, because my brain shorted out and that’s all I’ve got.
He doesn’t answer, just closes the door behind him, and turns the lock with a quiet, final click that sends a shiver straight down my spine and to my toes. Then he stays there for a second longer, taking me in like he’s trying to make sure I’m real.
“Cass,” I mutter, barely above a whisper. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he answers, but his voice is rough and low and absolutely not okay. “It’s done.”
I swallow. “How bad was it?”
He shakes his head once, eyes still pinned to me like he can’t afford to look away. “Doesn’t matter. It’s done.”
There’s something in the way he says that—like he just finished ripping off a limb and walked away from the wreckage—that makes my heart squeeze and my stomach flip at the same time.
He takes a step toward me. Then another.
The distance between us disappears way faster than my brain can catch up with.
One second he’s by the door; the next his hands are on my waist, lifting me like I weigh nothing.
I let out a startled sound as my legs automatically wrap around his hips, hands flying to his shoulders.
“Cass—”
“It’s done,” he repeats again, closer now, his breath brushing my lips. “Tell me I don’t have to wait anymore.”
I swallow, curling my fingers tighter in the fabric of his shirt. This is it. This is the moment. Four years of wanting, of biting my tongue, of pretending the way my chest splits open around him is normal.
“You don’t,” I whisper, because there’s no world where I can tell him to keep waiting. “You don’t have to wait anymore.”
Something in him breaks in the best way.
His mouth crashes into mine, and it’s nothing like the kiss from this morning.
This is hungry and relieved and wrecked and greedy all at once.
His hands grip the back of my thighs, holding me against him as my back hits the wall.
I gasp into his mouth and then I’m kissing him back, just as desperate, just as starved.
He pulls back enough to rasp, “Say it again.”
My head spins. “Say what?”
He rests his forehead against mine with eyes dark and wild. “What you said before I left. Say it again, Zae.”
“I love you.” This time I don’t whisper, or hesitate. “I’ve loved you for a long time.”
He makes a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a sigh of relief, and then he’s kissing me again, deeper, like those words snapped whatever last restraint he had left.
His hands slip under me as he pushes off the wall, carrying me to the bed. The world tilts, then the mattress is under my back and he’s over me, braced on his elbows so he’s not crushing me even though I wouldn’t complain if he did.
“I love you.” His voice is low and shaky as he says it back to me. “I’ve been so fucking in love with you, Zae, I didn’t know what to do with myself.”
I laugh—this sharp, disbelieving sound that’s half joy, half emotional meltdown. “Apparently you ‘didn’t know what to do with yourself’ so you got a girlfriend.”
“Yeah,” he mutters, moving his mouth along my jaw in little reverent kisses. “I’m not proud of that one.”
His lips reach the spot just under my ear and my breath stutters.
“You okay?” he murmurs, pulling back enough to see my face, brushing his thumb along my cheekbone, eyes searching mine.
I nod, even as my chest feels like it might split open with everything I’m feeling. “Yeah. I’m good.”
He smiles, small and crooked and completely in love. “If you want to slow down, we can. I’m not going anywhere.”
I slide my hands up his chest, over the warm skin under his T-shirt, feeling the steady hammering of his heart. “I don’t want slow,” I admit. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Cass, I think I might die if you stop.”
His pupils blow wide.
“Okay,” he says on a breath. “Okay, Sunshine.”
He kisses me again, but this time it’s a little slower, like he’s savoring it even as everything in both of us hums on high alert. His fingers slip under the hem of my shirt, tracing along the bare skin of my waist. Every place he touches lights up.
“Can I?” he asks, tugging lightly at the fabric.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Take it off before I combust.”
He huffs out a broken laugh and pulls my shirt over my head, tossing it somewhere that future us can deal with. His gaze drops, and his breath catches like he wasn’t prepared even though he clearly knew what he was doing.
“Zae,” he calls my name quietly, like he’s seeing me for the first time in a way he’s always wanted to but was never allowed.
I fight the instinct to cover myself with my arms, forcing them to stay at my sides.
“You’re staring.” I try to sound teasing, but it comes out softer.
“Yeah.” He’s completely unapologetic at the fact. “I am.”
He lowers his head, pressing a kiss to my shoulder, then down the line of my collarbone, then lower, his hands supporting my back as he takes his time tasting every inch of skin like he’s catching up on four lost years.
His tongue drags hot and wet over my flesh, teeth grazing my skin, making me shiver while his mouth sucks and licks like he’s starving for the taste of me.
By the time he works my bra off, my brain is mostly static.
His mouth is warm and greedy as he maps out every sensitive place that makes my breathing hitch, sucking my nipples deep into his mouth, tongue flicking and swirling until they’re tight, aching peaks.
His hand smooths along my side, fingers digging possessively into my hip whenever I arch and writhe in ways that make him curse filthy under his breath.
“Cass,” I gasp when his teeth scrape lightly against my nipple. “If you keep going like that, I’m going to spontaneously ascend.”
He lets out a low laugh against my skin. “That a complaint?”
“Absolutely not,” I manage, threading my fingers through his hair. “Just a warning.”
He moves back up, kissing me again, deep and hungry, his hand sliding down my stomach to the waistband of my leggings. He pauses there.
“This okay?” he asks.
I nod, heart hammering. “Yeah. Keep going.”
He peels them off slowly, taking my underwear with them, his eyes never really leaving my face.
I feel exposed in a way I’ve never felt before, but it’s not in a way that makes me want to hide.
It’s in a way that makes blood rush to my cheeks and my chest and between my thighs all at once, my pussy already slick and throbbing under his gaze.
He sucks in a breath when he sees all of me. His throat works as he swallows.
“You’re staring again,” I voice, a little breathlessly.
“Yeah,” he responds roughly. “It’s worse this time.”
“Worse how?” I ask, raising a brow even as my pulse goes haywire.
“Worse as in I might die.”
I snort out a laugh and then immediately lose it when his fingers finally brush against my pussy, ready and sensitive. My hips jerk, a quiet, shocked sound leaving me when he parts it with two thick fingers, spreading me open.
“Oh,” I blurt, hands flying to his shoulders. “Okay. I—okay.”
He watches my face like it’s the only important thing in the room as he pushes one long finger inside me, slow and careful at first, then deeper, curling it against that perfect spot.
Every little movement he makes draws a desperate reaction, and he adjusts instantly like he’s trying to memorize exactly how to make me fall apart.
“Zae,” he murmurs, voice going ragged when I moan his name. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Oh, I have some idea,” I manage, but my joke disintegrates into a breathy whine when he adds a second finger, stretching me while his thumb works my clit faster, harder.
He keeps his face close to mine, our foreheads nearly touching, his warm breath mingling with my ragged pants as he watches every flicker of pleasure cross my face. His fingers stay buried deep inside me, curling and stroking slowly against that sensitive spot that makes my breath catch.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, his thumb gliding in gentle, slick circles. “Just like that, Sunshine. Let me feel you.”
My hips roll up to meet his hand in slow waves, chasing the steady rhythm.
I whimper softly, nails digging into his shoulders as the pressure builds, warm and deep, low in my belly.
My thighs begin to tremble, knees falling wider apart as I open myself to him.
My inner walls clench and flutter around his fingers, pulsing gently.
He groans softly, the sound vibrating against my skin. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, breath hot against my mouth. “Come on, Zae. Let go for me. I want to feel you come all over my hand.”