Page 30 of Shattered Veil

“Camie?” I repeated.

“Jas?” Shawn attempted a second amalgamation of our names. “Ooh—Jassie. I’m team Jassie.”

“You did not just give us a name,” I complained. “We don’t need a name; we aren’t a thing; I’m not going there.”

Shawn shrugged, and his joking disposition waned as he said, “Or you do. Go there, I mean. Give it a shot—sounds like it’s not only your choice now. It’s hers, too. That’s on you for spilling the beans.”

The grip on my chest constricted further, and I sighed, for he may have been right.

I woke twice. The first instance was, I assumed, at two o’clock in the morning as per usual. I wouldn’t know—I didn’t check. What I did know was that I had dreamed of Cassie—of course—and a good chunk of my brain had deferred back to behaving like a caveman. A horny caveman who has no morals. The metaphorical line having already been crossed, the Neanderthal, which is normally buried in my mind, took control of the show…and I grabbed my dick and beat it like it owed me money.

I’m a sick fuck. I get it.

That being said, with no mess to clean due to the handy-dandy tissue box beside my bed, I did manage to sleep soundly afterward.

Until I woke for the second time, that is. Minutes before my alarm was ripe to go off at six o’clock, I opened my eyes to hear my phone vibrating with a vicious rattle against my bedside table. It was a quick, double-buzz that was meant to alert me of missed text messages, and I reached blindly to feel for it. Three pats later, I secured it in my palm, and I felt my face scrunch in confusion at what was displayed on the screen. It was several text messages, and the number was unknown.

12:15 A.M.: You ducking ditched me

12:15 A.M.: Ducking

12:15 A.M.: DUCKING

12:16 A.M.: Goddamn auto-correct. You get the point. You have my number now. Call me so we can talk, you ducking idiot.

There’s Cassie.

There was no question that it was her, though she hadn’t even stated how she had gotten my phone number. I could see her, flustered and rapidly typing, perhaps cursing aloud to herself…and the thought of her reacting that way because of me made me smile. It shouldn’t have, but it did. So, I contemplated my next actions as I readied myself for my work day.

I showered; I wondered how she asked for my number and from whom. I dried off; I thought about whether or not she was still at the bar whilst texting me at midnight. I dressed; I tried to picture how outwardly pissed she was when she realized that I had left with Shawn. I got in my car; I questioned if she had gotten home safe.

With the phone attached to the stand on the right of my steering wheel, I shook my head and tapped the phone number that I had recently added to my contacts under the name Cassie. I periodically glanced at the screen as it rang, the sound loud through my car’s speaker. As the time of the call hit the fifteen-second mark, I began to mentally put together a script of what I would leave for a voicemail, and then, she answered.

“Hello?”

Her throat sounded scratchy, and I sighed out, “Hi.”

“Oh,” she returned, clearly surprised. “Oh, fuck.” A rustling sound emitted through the speaker, and considering the sound of her voice, I questioned whether the noise was made by her bedding. “Um…hi, Jay.”

“I woke you, didn’t I?”

“Yuh huh.”

I could practically hear her blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

“You can call me later if you—”

“No, no. I, um…I’m good,” she replied.

“Okay.” The line was silent, my response seemed like it hung in the air, and I spoke again, “You texted me.”

Cassie groaned. “That’s hazy.”

“Hazy? Why?”

“Well, there were several hours after you performed a disappearing act in which I…drank.”

The puzzle pieces clicked together, and I asked, “You’re hungover?”

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