I can’t help but smile. We had some good times, there’s no doubt about that. His eyes lock on mine and there is a sea of feeling and things left unsaid.
We don’t say them now, though.
“I think we could do this and do it really well,” he finally ventures. “I’m not going to be shy or hide the ball—I want to do this, Bee. If you are in, of course.”
No matter what I want to tell myself about past Cas and now Cas and moving on from carrying all these feelings I have for him, one thing is still crystal clear: if I have the ability to give Caswell Vaughn something, I will do it.
“Okay, then. We are writing an album together.”
I will just have to figure out how to put myself back together when he leaves again.
Chapter 8 – Caswell
Let’s Just Fall in Love Again – Jason Castro
Myhandsshakeasthey lift up to knock on Baylor’s door.
I look out over the landscape in an effort to get my shit together and I have got to hand it to Bee. There is a special kind of beauty in this place. I can see why someone would want to live here forever.
Not only that, but Bear Valley as a premiere ski resort, not to mention the addition of Matt Mann’s restaurant, makes it a place used to famous faces. I left Nix and Caleb in Bear Valley and drove out here myself. No one noticed me, and I’m fine with that. It’s no different than being in Vail or Aspen.
I’m not special here. My shoulders unbind and I realize there is a smile on my face.
Something about being out of LA puts things in perspective. There, things move around celebrities. Here, or literally anywhere else, the pace, the focus, is different.
“Cas?” Baylor looks surprised to see me when he opens the door, but I swear we had plans to meet up today. “How’d you get past the gate?” he asks, gesturing me inside.
I try not to sniff him, not to stare at his thighs in the soft, black pants he is wearing. I try and I fail. Baylor Mann is still the guy that turns me on like no other. His body. His Personality. His voice.
Jesus. I’m twenty again, sitting next to him in a lecture hall, too tired from last night’s gig and too strung out on hormones and the need to touch him to even pay attention to the professor.
I shiver as I inhale the scent of him that is everywhere in his home. Pine, sandalwood, and vanilla. It’s an odd kind of bittersweet pain to be surrounded by him.
I can still feel him from our embrace at Jack’s office, his weight in my arms seared like a brand.
“The gate was open. Your studio is here?” I squeak. Maybe I didn’t exactly know what I was signing up for when I agreed to use his studio to collaborate on this album. I was thinking his studio was somewhere in the multiple properties his family owns in Bear Valley, not in his home.
“Downstairs.”
“Maybe you should give me the grand tour, first?” I ask, running my hands along the sculpture that rests in a built-in nook to the wall in his foyer.
What the fuck does one do with their hands, anyway? All mine want is to wrap around him so tight he never lets me leave again. I shove them in my pockets.
My stupid heart does double-time as his blue eyes meet mine. Damn, he only got more handsome as he got older. Scruff over chiseled cheekbones. His blue eyes are lighter than mine now — a watercolor blue.
“If you like,” he says, gesturing ahead of himself and I realize he has no more idea what the hell we are doing than I do.
I do love his house, it is so Baylor Mann I can’t help but fall in love with it. I notice it’s big for one person, but he never clarifies if he’s living with someone, so I don’t ask. I’m not brave enough for that. But it becomes clear in his quick tour, that Baylor lives alone. So, this love he wrote about, it must be new. Or maybe they are taking things slow.
We make our way to the kitchen and continue the tour of his home, even me oohhing and aahhing over his studio, which to be honest is better than mine by far, hasn’t gotten us out of this strange rut we are in. If anything, it has only postponed it, just to circle back now.
Maybe it’s me. I can’t help but stare at him. I mean, he is right there in front of me after all this time. Most likely, he’s deciding how to tell me this can’t work unless I get over him, or at least, quit staring at him like a man in the desert finally seeing water. Over the years, I’ve learned to control my facial expressions, but I doubt it helps. Baylor always seemed to see right through me.
“Look,” I finally tell him after a few failed attempts at discussions. I’m trying hard not to have one-word answers, but I’m struggling. “This is awkward, right?”
I see white teeth flash against his dark scruff so quick I thought I must be imagining it. Baylor finally relaxes enough to lean against the counter of his kitchen.
“I mean,” I continue, moving to his fridge where I am guessing there is beer and opening it like we are back to being roommates in college and his shit is my shit and vice versa. “It’s been a long time since we have just, you know, hung out together.” I find bottles from Quinn’s brew pub, and hold them up.
