Page 39 of Meet Cute Reboot
Cassie nods. “I think you’re going to have to restock your liquor cabinet, then.”
“The only thing going in there from now on is pop and Gatorade. My drinking days are over except for the occasional glass of wine.”
“Alcohol does seem to get you into trouble,” Cassie says.
“Understatement?”
Cassie nods again and looks down at her shoes.
I dare to step closer. I feel raw, exposed, more vulnerable than I’ve ever been. It allows her presence to seep into me and penetrate my core. Part of me wants to run and hide, the other wants to collect her in my arms, bury my head in her hair, and let her know she’s safe. The fact that I ever made her feel unsafe eats away at me, every day just a little bit more. I might not be much of a man in ten years if I don’t get back with Cassie or force myself to move on. I can’t keep this up.
“Those things my mom said—”
Cassie holds her hand inches from my chest. I want to grab it. I stuff my hands in my pockets instead.
“You were drunk,” she says. “We all say stupid things when we’re drunk.”
I fall back a bit, slump, and nod. “Sure.”
“You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
“Oh, I’m embarrassed. Trust me.”
Cassie chuckles. “Ya-mmmmm.”
I laugh with her. “I can’t believe she’s thinking about getting back with Dad.”
“It didn’t sound like she was planning on getting back with him. Just, you know, doing it once for old time’s sake.”
I wince and then rub my hand over my face. “Why did I let her move onto my property?”
Cassie flicks a gnat away from her face. A wisp of hair falls in front of her eye. She smooths it to the side. “I think it’s nice of you to let her live here. We need to take care of our family.”
Sometimes silence feels thin, like crossing a tightrope. Other times it’s a warm blanket. This silence feels warm, protective, full of potential. I wonder if it feels the same to her.
She clears her throat. “I gotta go. I have work tomorrow, and preparations are required. And sleep.”
“You hardly sleep.”
“I’m just really tired today.” She yawns. I think it’s fake, but it makes me yawn anyway.
“Sorry,” she says. “I’m contagious.”
“Listen. I don’t think that counts as date number two. How about—”
“We livestreamed it. That makes it official.”
I feel like I’m making headway with Cassie. She’s reticent, but I sense something, a look in her eye that she’s unable to hide. I think it’s safe to try again. No pressure. An innocent question.
“We have a neighborhood meeting on Thursday.”
Cassie flashes me an odd look. I should have provided more context.
“Yeah, um. I have an idea. From one professional to another. If I have paranormal activity in my house—”
“If.”
“We know my house is old. The odds that someone or someones have died here are pretty high.”