Page 53 of Just Between Us

Hauling myself up, I follow and cook the remaining Hot Pockets. One of us will eat them tonight.

We polish them off and settle on the couch to finish the second half of the joint, a tangle of limbs overlapping in a way that would feel awkward if it weren’t so damn comfortable. I felt nice and chill after the first half, but I can tell with this secondhalf, I’ll be flying high, a balloon floating to the sky with Cassie right next to me.

Cassie lies next to me, tucked between the back of the couch and my body, her head resting against my chest, and I blame the weed when I take her hand and kiss each finger, one by one. I know I should stop but my high is in control now. She sucks in an audible breath when I drag my lips across her pinky and up her forearm. Lowering her hand to rest on my chest, I run my fingers through her hair, separating each strand, rubbing it between my fingers like I’m testing silk.

“You have really pretty hair,” I hear myself blurt, almost urgent. “It’s…I don’t know. Soft. And so shiny.” I lean into her hair and inhale. “And it smells good.”

Cassie lifts her head until our eyes meet and blinks at me wearing the most adorably solemn expression.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice completely serious. “I grew it myself.”

The absurdity of her response pulls an almost hysterical laugh from me. Okay, maybe I am that high. Then she starts to laugh, a giggling sound only good weed can create, her body shaking against mine.

When we finally get ourselves under control, I tap her on the nose. “Well, good job, Cassandra. You’re a natural.”

After a near brush with panic where Cassie feared we’d run out of snacks, we’ve settled at opposite ends of the couch, our legs tangled together anyway. Cassie’s hand is halfway down the Pringles tube, her mouth full of chips when she freezes, her gaze lifting to mine.

“Are you religious?”

Cupping my hands around my mouth, I pitch my voice into alow booming announcer’s tone. “And now folks, we’ve reached the philosophical segment of our program.”

Cassie rolls her eyes, unamused. “Be serious. We’ve never discussed it.”

I blow out a long breath, look to the ceiling and then back at her. Chewing the inside of my cheek, I search for the right words.

“Maybe religious-adjacent? If you’re asking if I believe what they’re preaching on Sunday mornings, the answer is probably no. To me, music is its own form of scripture. Nature can be a sanctuary for your soul. You?”

“I’m not sure,” she says, her voice small and far away. “It’s a nice thought, but then I think of my mom, of everything she went through. Surely a god would have intervened, right?”

The air in the room suddenly feels pressurized, but Cassie has no idea she’s just hit a raw nerve. With the buzz loosening my tongue, I feel the lock wanting to spring open, freeing all the things I keep to myself. My mouth actually opens to do so when I stop. I just—I can’t. Not tonight. Hell, maybe not ever. Instead, I follow Cassie’s train of thought.

“Maybe that’s what people are for,” I say, my voice low. “Your aunt, your uncle, you, your brother. The four of you never gave up on her. Maybe you were the intervention.”

Cassie goes quiet, considering the weight of my words. Eventually, she gives a nod. “I like that.”

“And I don’t know about you,” I add, looking at the way the lamp light catches the gold in her eyes, “but I’d like to think there’s something bigger out there than just a bunch of humans running around, fucking things up. Do I believe it’s a man in the sky? I don’t know. But I sure as hell hope there’s something bigger than myself.”

The high is fading now, leaving behind a heavy, bone-deep exhaustion in its wake. I’ve spent the last twenty minutes trying to find a version of comfort that doesn’t involve a knee digging into Cassie’s ribs or sleep sitting upright.

Cassie and I are both too tall to comfortably share this couch, and after shifting around, trying not to wake her while also aiming for comfort, I give up. Sitting back against the armrest, I watch her. She’s finally drifted off, her breathing deep and rhythmic, her head canted at an angle that’s going to leave her with a hell of a neck ache in the morning. What we really need is my bed.

The thought sends a jolt of nerves through me. The last time she slept in my bed is still fresh on my mind, the heat of her, and the way the world finally felt quiet. But I also remember the suffocating guilt of waking up from a dream about Julie, only to realize it was Cassie I was holding. The confusion of it left me reeling for days. It felt like a betrayal and a lie of omission tangled together.

I look at the hallway leading to my bedroom, then back at the woman on my couch.

There’s no way I’ll leave her here. I can’t go crawl under a down comforter while Cassie sleeps in an unnatural position under a thin throw blanket. After all, that’s what a friend would do, right?

“Cassie,” I whisper.

Her eyelashes flutter, but she doesn’t wake. She just lets out a tiny snore and a puff of air from her mouth. I can’t fight the smile at how adorable she is right now.

I move slowly, standing on stiff legs and raise my arms above my head to stretch my back, hearing the creaks and pops as I do. This is definitely the right decision.

Leaning down, I slide one arm under her knees and the other behind her back to lift her into my arms. She murmurs something incoherent, her hand clutching at the front of my T-shirt,and nuzzles into my neck. My heart does a hard thump in my chest.

I know what’s happening here. This is a dangerous game I’m playing with my emotions. I am Icarus, flying too close to the sun, daring it to scorch me from the inside out. But as I make my way to my bedroom and lay her onto the mattress, her hair fanning out onto the pillow, I fear there will come a day when I have to face down my past and acknowledge things I’m not ready to put words to. And yet I still fly closer.

PART TWO