Page 64 of Beware of Dog

“That’s the endorphins. It’ll ease up in a while. Hand me those artichokes.”

They were jarred hearts, nothing fancy, and he’d chopped them earlier while she stood behind him, both arms around his waist, face smushed into the groove of muscle flanking his spine. She reached for them now, sad that she had to pull so far away from him to reach the bowl, and snuggling quickly back in.

“Is it like this every time?” she asked, as he dumped them in and picked the spoon back up.

“When it’s really intense, sometimes. Not always. But who knows.” He shrugged. “Maybe you’re just a nympho.”

She leaned over and bit his nipple.

“Ow!” He chuckled. “Little freak.” Said with great fondness.

She finally turned him loose when it was time to dump in the noodles, and then she went to collect plates, and forks, and glasses of water.

They carried their meal to the sofa, and Cass curled up against his side with her plate while he searched for something to watch on TV.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” he proclaimed as he clicked through each channel.

“Ooh,Tremors,” they said in unison, when they landed on a movie channel, and Shep traded the remote for his plate.

Cass settled deeper against Shep’s shoulder, twirled pasta onto her fork, and tried to decide how she felt apart from sore, satisfied, dopey with affection, and eager to try it a dozen more ways.

“I missed class,” she realized aloud.

He glanced over, expression neutral, clearly trying to gauge her reaction to that. When she shrugged, he said, “Want me to write you a note? ‘Dear Teach, please excuse Cassandra’s absence from class, she was too busy getting dicked down.’” He smirked, pleased with himself.

She snorted, and then started laughing, and it dispelled a little of that dopiness, leaving her tired and fond.

“You won’t, like, get in trouble, right?” he asked once they turned back to the movie.

“No. Only one of my profs takes attendance, and I only have her on Fridays.” From the corner of her eye, she saw him make a face that had nothing to do with the doctor’s station wagon getting sucked down into the sand on-screen. “Ah. The horrifying realization that your old lady has her attendance taken at school.” She was only half-teasing. And half-terrified, because she’d busted out “old lady” before “girlfriend” or “dating.”

He made another face, and gave her a sidelong look. “Nah. I’ll manage.” He looked back at the screen, speared a tomato with his fork and said, too-casually, “Is that what you want to be? My old lady?”

A cheeky retort formed and died on her tongue. She could tell from the set of his shoulders that it was a serious question. So she gave a serious response. “Yes.” And an honest one: “I sort of assumed we were already on the same page there.”

He took a bite of food, chewed, swallowed. Looked down at his plate and shoved noodles around with another shrug. “I mean. You coulda changed your mind.”

“I didn’t,” she said, hurt now. “But maybe you have.” She faced forward, TV a blur of color and sound, plate forgotten and in danger of sliding off her lap.

“Hey.” When she didn’t respond, he said it again.

She turned her head, and found his expression soft with apology. He leaned in and kissed her, soft and sweet, until the hurt melted away. His mouth tasted like tomatoes.

When he pulled back, he said, “I didn’t change my mind. You tell me what you want, and I want it, too.”

She nodded, blinking hard.

“Eat your food.”

She picked her fork back up, and they spent several minutes eating in comfortable silence.

Finally, Shep took a deep breath and said, “How do you think Raven’s gonna take it?”

“Honestly? She might try to hit you.”

“I figured.”

She bit at her lip and admitted, “I’m not sure how to tell her. Or any of my family.”

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