Chapter Fifteen

The following morning, Cassidy looked into her wardrobe like she was staring into the abyss. The problem with owning so many new clothes was that it made what should be a basic decision incredibly complicated. It was a Friday and Brynn had already told her it would be a half day in the studio so she could come home and spend it with her family. Cassidy hadn't decided yet if she'd use the opportunity to drift around Nashville and explore on her own, or come back home for a quiet day.

It should be a dress, she figured. A cute one, just in case. One that made her feel confident, but also looked good with her comfy chucks so she could walk around town, for hours, should she choose to. Her fingers brushed along her dress rack. They passed a pretty floral print and she paused. Her breath caught in her chest as she remembered Lane's fingers on the buttons, uncovering her with hungry eyes before their lips and tongue made her feel like she was coming right out of her skin with pleasure.

So not that one, then.

Or maybe that one?

Little bolts of pleasure ran through her as she imagined Lane's eyes on her body, knowing they wanted her, but wouldn't let themself have her. Cassidy was going to struggle perhaps even more, now she understood what that evasive caramel eye contact meant: Lane trying their hardest not to stare at her, doing everything they could to hide how much they desired her.

It was lucky that Lane was the one putting the brakes on. Cassidy knew they were right to, that their reasons were entirely valid. The problem was that she just couldn't make herself care. When Lane asked what would happen next if they went to bed together, it was on the tip of her tongue to retort that duh, they'd do it again. And again. And hopefully, again.

The strength of her own desire had come as a shock to Cassidy. It had started with a slow burn in her belly as she'd watched the shining drops of water slide down Lane's well cut torso at the poolside, another girl's obvious eyes all over them. It had crept up louder as she'd told herself it was perfectly innocent and reasonable that she'd practically staked a claim over Lane as Mia had watched; of course, it was totally to help Lane out, and not because a sliver of unexpected jealousy had reared its head at the sight of the attentive green-haired beauty.

Want had pooled inside her when Lane, devastatingly handsome at her side backstage at the Ryman, had stumblingly called her gorgeous and zealously guarded her against potential, entirely theoretical interference. It had flared again when she'd called them her boyfriend, feeling both the firmness of their body as she'd pressed herself into them, and the hammer of their heartbeat under her fingertips.

So she'd known it was there, all before they'd climbed the field tower together. But there, alone with them, on a picnic blanket under the stars, she'd shocked herself with her determination to feel their strong hands all over her body. Seducing Lane had been surprisingly easy, at least at first, as though Lane had been just waiting for any excuse to threaten to do delicious things with her body. Their about-face halfway through had left her spinning.

But oh god, the aftermath. Cassidy thought of those four minutes in the pool at least twenty times a day. It had felt so close, like any second Lane would finally touch her, and Cassidy had known she would fall apart when they did.

Lane was right. She had - beyond accurately, it turned out - assessed them as being highly likely to know how to make a girl feel good. But she'd thoroughly underestimated the effect they would have on her. Within moments, she went from curious and excited to wild and desperate in a way she'd never even suspected she was capable of.

Lane was a romantic kisser, making her unexpectedly breathless. With Lane's lips on hers under the moonlit night, Cassidy felt like a character in an epic romantic movie; she practically heard the music soar as Lane slid their hands into her hair. They were bold and confident with her body, but there was a noticeable tremble of anticipation in their hands as they undid the buttons of her dress. That Lane was so affected by her made her feel incredibly desirable, freeing her to move her body for both of their pleasure.

Cassidy had never experienced even a shadow of the heat that overtook her. Her first time with Evan, there'd been excitement too; at first it had felt taboo and grownup and delicious. But the excitement had eventually been replaced with discomfort, even pain, as things progressed, and try as she might to understand exactly what the big deal about sex was, it only ever felt like something being done to her, not with her, like she was absent from her own body.

With Lane, every part of her lit up, aching to be touched, and everywhere they did touch her caused sparks of heat under her skin, her blood alive and roaring and her core molten hot. Everything became shockingly slick and wet, a hungry ache inside her, burning for relief. That the relief never came was torture, and while Cassidy had intellectually accepted it when Lane had told her they couldn't finish what they'd started, her body was still stuck in a state of disbelief.

Surely, it nagged at her, surely that can't be it. Not now something so desperate and primal had been awoken within her. She imagined being the kind of girl who'd go home with an attractive bartender, walk into his strange bedroom and take off all her clothes so they could continue the ache Lane had started, and finally relieve her of it. Was she that kind of girl? Cassidy wasn't sure yet.

All she was sure of was that when she walked downstairs for breakfast and saw Lane sitting casually in a v-neck t-shirt at the table, their dark hair swooping like a 1950s movie star and only the slightest flicker of eye contact when they saw her appear in the cute pink cotton dress she'd picked out, everything inside her burned.

That afternoon, she left the studio and wandered. She picked out famous locations on the map on the new iPhone her sister had given her and navigated around by foot. Music was everywhere, from the buskers, to the bars, even piped out of the ground where she walked. She picked a cafe at random, and within minutes, a duo took the stage in the corner. Cassidy found herself open mouthed with awe at their voices, their music, their songs.

She thought of Brynn's warning all over again. Could she compete with the undiscovered talent in this room alone, without the association with her famous sister? But if she was associated with her, what did that mean? To skip the hard work, to leapfrog others who were probably wildly better than her? No kudos, no dues earned, no favor she'd grown all on her own. Cassidy leaned her chin on her hand and watched the musicians, feeling some kind of combination of glum and inspired.

She paid for her cherry pie and cola, then walked back out to the street. The afternoon was slick and humid as usual, but an appealing breeze lifted her hair off the back of her neck. A handsome man tipped his cowboy hat at her, frank interest in his eyes, and she smiled.

She wandered into record stores, into vintage stores, into bookstores, all while daydreaming of being on any one of those Nashville stages. She was on her own, her guitar in hand - no - she had a full backing band behind her, standing front and center. The crowd loved her, the new unknown artist taking Nashville by storm. She looked down into the audience and saw warm caramel eyes looking up at her, admiration and desire glowing there. The daydream shifted sharply, those same eyes on her, right up close, the two of them tangled up in the sheets as she rocked her hips, frenzied with pleasure at their touch. Cassidy blinked, her cheeks flushed as her vision cleared and she realized she was literally sexually fantasizing in public now.

She found her way back to Music Row, to the bar she and Coral had frequented earlier that week, slipped on to a bar stool and watched as the bartender raised his head and saw her. She smiled.

"Cassidy?"" The male voice was gentle, and she opened her eyes. Outside the window of the car was a familiar oak tree. Burt was smiling at her. "Home sweet home," he said, kindly not mentioning she'd literally dozed off on the trip home.

She thanked him and drifted out of the car and back toward the house in the evening sky. God, everything was so beautiful here. She couldn't stop smiling, even as she had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.

"Oh!" She looked up and saw the whole family were at dinner. Her beautiful sister and her gorgeous wife, their adorable child and…and Lane. She stumbled slightly as they looked up and saw her approaching. Damnit, Lane was beautiful too. She poured herself into a seat opposite them. "Hi family," she smiled.

"Hi!" Brynn was looking extremely amused, while Savannah was frowning slightly.

"Hi!" Cassidy beamed back. Lane was looking at her directly for once, an odd expression on their face.

"Had a good time?" Brynn asked her, her eyes bright.

"I did." She swayed slightly on the chair. "I think I love Nashville."

"I see." Savannah looked slightly concerned, but then she almost always looked slightly concerned when she looked at Cassidy. "What have you been up to?"

"I went exploring," she beamed, "and then I went to a bar."

"Alone?" Savannah frowned.

"No," Cassidy reassured her. "I know the bartender."

Lane twitched noticeably.

"Friend of yours?" Brynn asked, with interest.

"You could say that," she agreed. Lane dropped their fork with a clatter and picked it up again quickly, glaring down at their plate. Cassidy imagined, just for a second, lurching across the table to kiss them. She didn't, though.

"Cassidy," Savannah started, "can you… maybe, not get drunk with random strangers? I love that you're getting out there and having fun, but maybe take Lane with you next time? Everyone needs a wingman."

"I'm Tucker's babysitter, not Cassidy's." Lane's voice was tight, their face flushing. "She's an adult, isn't she? She can do what she wants."

Savannah looked astonished. Cassidy wondered if Lane had ever given her pushback in their life.

"I'm sorry," her sister apologized, her brow furrowing. "I didn't mean it like it was your job. I just thought you two might end up being friends."

Lane looked mutinous.

"Lane doesn't like me much." Cassidy tried to help. "But it's okay. We're finding ways to work around it."

Lane's cheeks turned all the way up to crimson.

"I'm gonna head off," they announced, getting stiffly to their feet. "I've got kind of a headache."

Everyone watched them go. The door of the guesthouse shut with an audible thud.

"Cassidy." Savannah stared at her. "What in the world did you do to Lane?"

Distantly, Cassidy wondered if she should resent that. Sober Cassidy would be pissed that Savannah instantly took Lane's side instead of her sister's, but drunk Cassidy was only focused on the hurt in Lane's eyes.

"You're right," she said calmly. "I'm gonna apologize."

She ignored the loud protests of her dining companions and, placing her feet carefully so as not to wobble, made it all the way to the guest house.

Lane looked up as she entered their living room. They were curled up in the corner of their sofa, their knees bent up like a kid.

"Are you serious?" they asked irritably. "You don't even knock?"

"Knock knock," Cassidy said belatedly. Lane sighed.

"I kind of left because I didn't want to see you right now?" they pointed out.

Cassidy sat at the other end of the sofa, ignoring the huff her action produced and kicked off her shoes.

"We're going to have to figure this out," she said, settling in. "Because as I believe you already know," she pointed at them, "we live together."

"There's nothing to figure out," Lane snapped. "We made a decision. And it's cool."

"So cool," Cassidy agreed. "Can I tell you about my day?"

"I'd really rather you didn't." Lane looked away.

"You didn't look at me this morning," she began, "which makes me crazy. Then I literally fantasized about you in public, which is an awkward thing to happen in the street." Lane turned to look at her, their eyes a little wider. "But I know you're off limits now. So I went to go pick up the bartender," she explained.

"I'm good," they gritted out. "I don't need to hear the rest."

"Oh, but you do. He gave me a stack of free drinks-"

"Clearly."

"And told me I was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen."

"Of course." Lane looked slightly sick.

"And he told me he lived upstairs and would I like to come up." Now Lane was silent. "I said yes. When we got up there, he kissed me and I let him." A slightly strangled noise escaped them. "And it was gross," she said quietly. There was a silence. Lane looked up.

"What?"

"It was gross." She shrugged. "His beard scratched me. His tongue was too big. He didn't smell like you." Lane sucked in a breath. "I said goodbye and I left, and Burt took me home."

They sat in silence for a long while. Cassidy wondered if she was sobering up. The room wasn't spinning, but her eyes felt heavy. Then, silently, Lane took hold of her bare ankles and gently dragged her all the way along the couch toward them.

"Are you finally going to have sex with me?" she asked hopefully, as she arrived practically in their lap with a bump.

"Not a chance." Lane maneuvered her legs so she was just sitting next to them, pressed up tight against their side. "I don't have sex with drunk people. And anyone who gives a girl a bunch of drinks before they try to sleep with her is a real asshole." They wrapped their arm around her and Cassidy let her head drop onto their shoulder.

"I don't think he was trying to be a creep," she mused. "I think he was just trying to give me whatever I wanted. Unlike some people."

"Whatever," Lane said quietly. "I hate him."

They held her close.

"Lane?"

"Yeah?"

"What if…it turns out you actually like me?"

Lane was silent for an incredibly long time.

"Shit," they said softly. It was the last thing Cassidy heard before she fell asleep.