I scowl. “You’re seriously going to make me wait six weeks to sleep with you again?”
She shrugs, but she’s smiling.
“Fine. But this doesn’t start until we leave in the morning.”
“Obviously.” Casey slides her hands up my thighs.
“Good.” I pull her face to mine and kiss her.
Chapter Eight
Four weeks later
“Case?” I call as I kick my shoes off in the doorway of my best friend’s home. We haven’t bothered with knocking in years, each having a key to the other’s place.
“In here!” Casey’s distant voice calls from the living room. Her house is beautiful. She refers to it as her “starter home.” A two bedroom, one bathroom with a spacious living room and a kitchen with a surprisingly high number of cabinets for someone who thought a single frying pan and one saucepan was enough. She’s decorated the place with so much framed artwork, I’m not sure what color the walls are. And while it would look like a busy eyesore if I was in charge, she has the vision and talent to make it look seamless and perfect.
“You look cute!” Casey says.
Warmth floods my cheeks. “Thank you.”
I plop down on the sofa beside her. A movie I don’t recognize is playing on her TV, and her laptop is on her lap. The screen is still lit up, showcasing an in-progress logo design.
“It’s ten pm on a Friday night, you’re not supposed to be working,” I scold.
Casey shrugs. “Our client rejected our latest draft, and, with the tight turnaround, this needed to be done yesterday.” She closes her laptop and sets it on the coffee table then turns to face me fully. Her bent knee grazes my leg. “So, how was your date? Another dud?”
“No, actually. It was kind of nice.” I scratch the back of my head nervously. Which I kind of hate. I never would have overthought telling Casey about a fun date before we hooked up, but if we never hooked up would I even be going on dates, or would I still be sulking and stalking my ex’s social media?
“Oh,” Casey says. She looks shocked, and I don’t blame her. While I keep trying, I haven’t enjoyed any of the dates I’ve been on. She recovers quickly though. “That’s awesome! I’m so excited for you.”
I try to smile, but it’s strained. Coming home from the lake house, I didn’t want to look at the SapphicSingles account she set up for me, but I’ve found Casey can beveryconvincing. And apparently, I’m easily persuaded while in a post-orgasm high.
The profile Casey made me was shocking. It was full of photos I never would have chosen for myself, a mix of candids and posed shots she’s taken of me, and I’ll reluctantly admit I looked …good. She nailed my answers to all the profile prompts and injected enough humor that I’d swipe right. And I realized I like seeing myself through Casey’s eyes.
Casey and I pored over profiles together, and it felt nice. Like we were still us—that the fact we had sex didn’t mess things up. We are still best friends, no matter what.
And I was actually excited for my firstdate post Nina, but it was fucking terrible. The woman was twenty-two minutes late, and it’s mortifying thinking you’re being stood up while sitting alone in an Outback Steakhouse. I was about to ask for my cheese fries to go when she showed up, all frazzled and talking way too loud. The date didn’t get any better from there. I cut out early and went straight to Casey’s.
I wanted to cry. The date proved all my worst fears right, but Casey wasn’t having it. She told me about a couple of her shittiest first dates that had me laughing so hard I caught a stitch in my side, and the tradition of me ending all my dates at Casey’s house was born.
“Are you going to go out again?” Casey asks, her voice even.
I hesitate, watching her before saying, “I don’t know.”
Casey doesn’t react. My heart drops. I didn’t realize how desperately I wanted a reaction from her until I didn’t get one. It took me a couple days after returning home from the lake house to sort through my feelings and process everything that happened.
It was actually the night after my first horrible date when I was lying in bed that I thought about everything Casey said to comfort me. Then I started replaying image after image of the perfect way Casey and my body molded together. I thought about how safe and comfortable she makes me feel inside and outside the bedroom, and the history of our friendship. Our effortless laughter and comfortable silences. I can spend every day by Casey’s side and never get sick of her. And the truth hit me.
My feelings for Casey aren’t as casual as I thought they were.
But Casey kept telling me to jump back on the app, insisting I’d have a better first date, and wouldn’t let me bail on trying. So I came to the disappointing conclusion that she doesn’t feel the same way about me. How could she have feelings for me while so persistently trying to get me to date other people?
Now I’m working on shoving these newfound romantic feelings down and hiding them away. Casey and I promised each other we wouldn’t let the weekend ruin our friendship, and I’m determined to keep that promise.
“I think you should see her again!” Casey slaps my knee, pulling me from my thoughts. “She’s super cute, and you said you had a good time.”
“Yeah,” I hedge. “Maybe.”
