CHAPTER ELEVEN
CASEY
The world stops spinning for a moment as I struggle to understand. The only thing I can focus on is the voice inside my head saying does not compute. There’s no way he’s serious. Right?
A nervous laugh slides out of me as I clean the bar top without even knowing what I’m doing. I’m lost, floating, confused. “Quit messing around.”
He scrubs at his jaw. “I’m not.”
I don’t know what to do with this information. I step toward the register, realize I forgot my rag, step back to get it, trip over the non-slip mat, and catch myself right before I crack my skull against the draft beer dispenser.
You’re Griffin’s type.
“Are you okay?” Griffin asks, halfway to standing before I right myself.
“I’m fine.” I grip the edge of the countertop and draw a deep breath. “What do you…are you…I just—” Talking is probably not possible now, so I shake my head. “Never mind. I need to close out.”
“I’ll wait for you in the parking lot.” He says it like it’s not a question.
I nod and finish out my duties on autopilot.
I feel like I’m blacked out, no operator behind the wheel, just rote movement born from some internal manual I don’t currently have access to.
My legs are Jello as I say goodbye to my coworkers and grab my things from the back room.
I’m Griffin’s type???
As soon as I push through the front door of Brews, the sultry night air wraps around me. I take a deep breath of the tropical-feeling breeze, something steady and warm winding through me.
You have a habit of underestimating yourself.
Griffin’s words are ringing in my ears as I find him in the parking lot, loading my bike into the bed of his truck like it weighs nothing.
I wet my bottom lip, unsure how to proceed.
In my mind, this could go one of two ways: either we never mention the “you’re my type” thing again and I wonder what else might be behind it until the day I die, or I marry him immediately.
Only two options as far as I can see.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say breezily, tossing him a smile. I climb into the passenger side of the truck, wondering if I’ll make it back to the house without dissolving into a needy puddle of goo.
The driver’s side door shuts next and then we’re both in the cab looking at each other. The start of a smile is on his face.
“So you had a good night?” he asks as he starts the truck.
“Um…pretty good money,” I say. “There was one big tipper in particular who paid for three other girls’ tabs and left a 200% tip like always.”
“Sounds like a great customer.” Griff shifts into reverse and then slings his arm along the top of the seat, twisting to see out the back. His hand brushes my shoulder and heat pulses between my legs.
“The actual best customer.” I’m fiddling with the seagull pendant on my keychain, because I’ll explode if I don’t do something right now.
“Sounds like he’s got a thing for the bartender,” Griff says, casting me a sly look.
My eyes go wide. We’re back to this. “Do you mean like…a thing?”
He shifts into drive, and I feel a whoosh of cold air as his hand leaves my vicinity. “Why do you say that like it’s the craziest thing you’ve ever heard?”
“Because it is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” I say. My voice is pitching upward, and I can barely even form words. “Are you saying you…” I can’t even say it. It’s too ludicrous.
The silence grows deafening. I’m not handling this well, which makes me feel stupid, which makes me handle it worse. This is not an awesome spiral to be stuck in.
I’m going to break out of it. Or at least try.
“Griffin, I would kill for a chance to be with a man like you,” I say slowly, trying to make sure my words come out correctly. “Let me just start by saying that.”
He nods after a moment. “But…?”
“Oh, there’s no but. That’s all.”
The silence returns. It’s like neither of us have any idea how to handle this conversation.
“I just never imagined I was your type,” I finally say. “I’ve seen your exes. I’m sorry—this is making me spiral.”
“Forget I said anything.” He’s squeezing the steering wheel repeatedly, his face creased with concern. “I don’t want things to get weird. Yes, I think you’re hot as fuck, but your friendship is more important than all that.”
My mouth parts as I work through his words. I silently mouth hot as fuck to myself. Is this real life?
Wait, does Griffin want to have sex with me?
Now the excitement is overtaking the anxiety, and I really don’t know how to behave. We’re pulling into the driveway before I can get a grip on things. He cuts the engine and we’re sitting in awkward silence for a few moments.
“I don’t want shit to get weird, Casey,” he finally says, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry I said anything.”
“It’s okay.” He only made my life. He shouldn’t be apologizing for it. “Are you not coming in…?”
“I think I’m gonna go down to the water for a little bit,” he says, averting his gaze. “Clear my head.”
My heart is pounding as I nod and reach for the door handle. “Things aren’t weird. Why would they be weird? Friends can think each other are hot. I promise. I mean, I think you’re hot as fuck too. And your truck too. See? Not weird. Just a fact.”
Griffin doesn’t look convinced as I push open the door and slip out.
My knees feel like they’re made of glass as I walk to the front door and let myself in.
Once the door shuts behind me, the silence of the house settles like deadweight.
All the shock and confusion and glee from the past half hour presses at the back of my ribs, desperate to explode.
I really feel like I botched that whole thing.
I fixate on Griffin’s words as I drift toward my bedroom, intent on getting a shower and settling onto the couch to relax after a long day on my feet.
Since Griffin’s not here, I leave the bedroom door open.
I’ve got plenty of time to get in and out of the bathroom before he gets home, especially if he’s going down to the water to think.
He’ll probably need extra time to ponder based on what I gave him. Maybe up to five business days.
Some of the regret begins to settle in as I think about what I did—and didn’t—say to him.
Come on Casey, you couldn’t even have told him that you think he’s incredible?
You didn’t have to say he’s the man of your dreams even, you could have just gone with “awesome,” but instead you said nothing.
You didn’t tell him how thoughtful he is, or sexy, or strong, or wonderful, or smart, or…
I sigh heavily as I shed my work clothes into a small pile at my feet. Once I’m fully nude, my gaze lands on the nightstand drawer.
An orgasm would really help things right now, that’s for damn sure.
It takes me about three seconds to convince myself to postpone my shower in favor of masturbation. Or better yet—combine them.
I let out an evil chuckle as I snatch the purple satin bag out of the drawer and dart into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.
This thing is supposedly waterproof, and I’m ready to test it.
I turn the shower water on, enjoying the warm air that fills the bathroom.
When the temp is just right, I slink past the shower curtain and let the water wash over me.
Ahhhh. I take a few moments, letting my mind wander.
It’s not hard to get myself in the mood after living with Griffin the past couple of weeks.
The man is an athlete, all strong lines and powerful muscle. He looks ripped from a magazine, or maybe a Greco-Roman museum display and his chiseled body is the ancient depiction of male perfection.
You’re my type. I still can’t believe he said that to me. He blasted a door open between us, and even though I want to run straight through it, I’m so conflicted.
If I start something with Griffin—if that’s even the reason he said that to me—then I stand to unattract him. When he sees the true me, the squeaky, crusty insides, the failures and the disappointments and the just-not-quite-enough-ness, he’ll be un-attracted. I am positive of this.
It’s happened with every man I’ve dated. It just happened to me with Jake.
I don’t want that to happen with Griffin, even though I desperately want Griffin.
I fire up my purple silicone vibrator. It’s the kind that’s both a vibrator and a clitoral slurping device, or whatever it’s called—I’m sure it has a better name than that, I just can’t remember what the packaging said.
I’ve never used the slurping part before because I am very sensitive.
I could probably get off just from squeezing my legs together while conjuring Griffin’s memory.
Despite how sensitive I am, I’ve never been with a man that could get me off. Explain that one. I usually only use vibrators, but something about tonight entices me to try the clit slurper. I’m entering a new frontier in my personal life, so why not enter a new frontier in my vibrator life?
The vibrator-slurper looks like a hook, and its intended target is my undercarriage. I arrange the clitoral part right over my love button and turn it on.
It immediately comes to life, a soft, gentle suction right over my clit that causes me to inhale sharply. It’s not so crazy, though, so I reposition it. Surely adding more vibe power behind the slurpinator is a good idea, so instead of going up a notch or two, I take it up five.
I must not have had it arranged properly the first time because this time, it latches onto my clit like a sea urchin onto a boulder.
And it feels so different, not at all the gentle flutter from before.
My eyes go wide and my lips part, and everything in my body starts rioting with a pleasure too intense and unexpected.
I scream.