8. Cassidy

cassidy

. . .

T he past two weeks, my stomach has been in knots. Travis has thankfully let up with his pissing contest with my fiancé, but I’m still on edge. In contrast, Zack has sent me dinner every night that I’ve had overnight shifts since axe throwing. At least, I think it’s Zack. Every time a delivery driver arrives, I can’t help my smile. I don’t know how I ever thought Travis could compare to this sweet man.

My shift is nearly over and the doctor is making his rounds. As much as I detest the micromanagement, I understand it’s necessary. No matter how great of a nurse I am, there are dozens who can’t properly place an IV, and ignore their patients. I don’t take it personally.

Once his round is done and we’ve changed over to the morning crew, I’m out the door with a skip in my step. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this light.

As soon as I’m home, I take a long, hot shower. Except as I drag the loofah up and down my limbs, I keep getting flashbacks to the one night Travis and I spent together. I gave him every opportunity to touch me, and his cock was hard for the entire night—yes, I checked. It was a euphoric feeling, being wrapped in his strong arms while I kept my body pressed to his for hours. It’s been a while since I’ve thought about him as anything more than a friend.

After settling into bed, I slide my fingers down my body, until my middle finger swirls around my clit. The way he held me close that night is nothing in comparison to the two of us fully clothed as he kept me pressed against my front door. My free hand teases my breasts, tweaking a taut nipple, as I remember how he leaned in and spoke next to my ear.

I pick up my pace, teasing with intermittent dips into my wet pussy, unable to help myself from how he jolted my hands back during axe throwing. The feel of him gripping both of my wrists with one of his hands… I press two fingers deep inside me, desperately wishing it was more than my own hand.

Fuck.

Zack.

I’m an engaged woman touching myself, thinking about another man.

As I drag my fingers from my pussy, I cry out in a swirl of anger, lust, and self-loathing. It would be one thing if it was porn, but I shouldn’t be getting off to Travis.

Especially since he doesn’t want me; he wants the idea of me. A fucked up promise he made a decade ago. Being in our thirties, he’s likely regretting a few life decisions, and I’m a safe option. Cassidy: The girl who was always there, in case Travis fucked up after sleeping with half of Sapphire Lake.

Well, fuck that.

There’s an ache in my core, and I do my best to conjure Zack in a fantasy so I can sleep before helping open Dani’s floral shop in a few hours .

“ That’s right, baby, just like that. Fuck, you take me so well… ”

I’m pulled from the fantasy. Zack is horrible with dirty talk and has never in the time we’ve been together said that I take him so well. I’m in hell. After a deep breath, I try again.

“ This tight cunt was made for me. I can’t wait to fill you and watch my cum drip out of your ? — ”

I can’t stop imagining Travis. After shaking out my hands and several “woo-sah” breathing exercises, I imagine Zack above me, pinning my arms over my head and driving into me hard and fast. I quiet any voices and let myself feel.

It doesn’t work.

As I come hard on my hand thinking about a man I absolutely shouldn’t, my bedding soaked beneath me, I hear a faint click of a door. Seeing as I locked my front door, there’s absolutely no reason why my best friend should be entering my bedroom with my pussy on display, and my fingers still inside me. Yet, here we are.

“Ingrid! What are you doing?” There’s no use in covering up now, even with my compromising position.

She shields her eyes with her hand as she looks away. “I thought we were doing coffee! If I fucked up the days, I’m sorry, but can you please put your pussy away?”

I slide off the bed and find a comfortable top and a pair of white and black buffalo plaid pajama pants, slipping them on. “I’m no longer naked. What’s up?”

Ingrid peeks through two fingers, then drops her hand from her face when she sees I’m clothed. “I told you; we were supposed to have coffee. Did you at least come?”

“Yes,” I grumble, shouldering past her to my kitchen. She follows. “I will not be ashamed of my self-care. ”

“And I will never shame you. I am, however, considering returning my key, or at least knocking.”

As I prep a cup of coffee for her with a pod in my machine, I insist, “You aren’t returning my key. I’m sorry if I mixed up the days.”

Ingrid places a hand on my shoulder and I flinch. “Whoa, are you sure you came, because you’re a bit on edge.”

Distracting myself with pulling mugs from the cupboard, I admit, “I’m sorry. I’m a little off today.” I leave out that I was thinking about Travis, but Ingrid knows me better than myself most days. It’s only a matter of time before she pries it out of me.

“Is that so?” She hums with a light chuckle. “Were you touching yourself, thinking about a hot firefighter?”

Fuck, that was fast.

“Ingrid!” I screech, pivoting to face her. “Need I remind you, I’m an engaged woman.”

“That may be, but you’re red as a tomato, and I caught you with your hand between your legs. It’s okay to fantasize, but you need to own up to the fact you’re interested in someone other than our favorite veterinarian.”

“Not true,” I fib.

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Are you and Zack coming to breakfast on Sunday?”

“At Pop’s?” I ask, turning to face her coffee that can’t brew fast enough. “Yeah, why?”

“Because Travis will be there… with Ashlyn.”

Ingrid’s trying to get a rise out of me. Ashlyn and Travis are friends, and I have my own suspicions about who she might be interested in. For the past few years, she’s been sneaking around with someone, and it’s definitely not Travis.

I slide her mug over and begin preparing my own coffee, trying to keep my voice even as I confirm, “We’re all just friends. I don’t know why you would bring it up.”

She pours creamer into her cup and teases, “Because you’re in love with my husband’s best friend.”