Page 22 of Mixed Connection
“What I’m hearing is a pool day is in order?” Paloma dances, shimmying her shoulders as she makes her way closer to Janelle.
“Hell yes!” Janelle matches Lo’s energy before they’re both pelvic thrusting and dancing with finger guns. I join in with a few body rolls as I put on music that thumps loudly, before pulling them both into an embrace. “Fuck, I’m so glad you’re here for another day!”
“Spill it, babe! We need to know how dinner went, you’ve kept us waiting all night.” Janelle glances at me from under her lashes with a playfully judgmental look, one that she knows will get me talking.
I shrug at both of them. “We had dinner and caught up, then he walked me to my door.”
“Bitch, please!” They holler in unison, I wave them off.
“Okay, okay!” Not wanting to keep them in suspense any longer, I fill them in about The Republic and our conversation. Both watch me intently as I continue on about how it felt like we had always known each other.
“Wait a minute,” Janelle speaks up as I finally take a moment to sip my sangria. This recipe is totally going to be available in the bar, I can’t stop drinking it and neither can the girls if the almost-empty pitcher tells me anything. “Did you say he buckled you in?”
“Yes?” I say, looking down at my fluffy bunny slipper-clad feet. Though it feels like we haven’t missed out on several years, we have and I’m not completely sure what her response is about to be.
“That. Is. So. Fucking. Hot,” Janelle yells, emphasizing every single word. The three of us all but melt into our spots. I rock my hips side to side to quell my jitters building at the memory. It was one of my favorite parts of the night. Did it surprise me? Absolutely it did, but I also felt so taken care of and it was sexy as hell.
Paloma purses her lips at me and I continue, filling them in on how breathless he left me before I got in the loft. “I can’t believe he just left after a kiss like that.”
“Honestly, I’m glad he did. I really like Jameson and want to see where this goes. I refuse to be a passing fling.” I down the rest of my drink. Lifting the container of sangria in an attempt to pour myself another hefty glass. I shift my gaze to the emptypitcher realizing we’ve finished it. I let out a soft sigh and say quietly, “I just…I just can’t be someone’s backup or late-night romp in the sheets. I want more.” I voice the one insecurity I have as it presses against my skin.
Not ready to lift my gaze to them, I watch my fingers as they grip the glass pitcher more tightly. This shame always seems to well up in me at the worst, and most unexpected moments. Until I met my best friend, I always felt like I was everyone’s second choice—my so-called friends, family, hell, even my parents. Mom and Dad left me a gift I can never repay them for in my inheritance, but before they passed they were swamped with getting ahead in their career fields. Even when they were home, they weren’t, they were too consumed with each other, or making their deadlines to be emotionally available for me.
I frequently found myself feeling as though I’d never be good enough to warrant their time or attention. I’d never be their top priority, they’d proven how little I mattered in the grand scheme of life over and over again. And like the melodramatic millennial I am, I resigned myself to not finding a man who would place me first. I just couldn’t understand why choosing myself had to feel so fucking lonely. Tears sting my eyes, I refuse to cry another tear over something I’ve left in the past.
But when it comes to the possibility of what Jameson and I can be—the driving want rattles me. Of course, I’ve had a few really great boyfriends but the relationships fizzled out eventually.
Knocking me out of my thoughts, Janelle grips my elbow and pulls the pitcher away from me at the same moment Paloma comes to sit at my side.
“You are not alone anymore, Cass. We’re here… and no, we will never ring you for a late-night romp, as you so eloquently put it.” She smirks at me and I breathe out more of a groan than the laugh I was hoping for, letting my best friend’s words ease me a bit.
Janelle picks up where she left off. “I know we aren’t what you are longing for, but we choose you, the first time, and every single time thereafter.”
Whatever floodgates I erected, collapse at their words. The dam for my tears finally breaks upon hearing their admission; healing the longing of belonging I always begged to find. Something I think we all need as we sob holding one another.
“Oh and bitch, it’s called a booty call!” And just like that, Paloma has us all in a fit of laughter.
Getting up, Janelle refreshes our glasses with the sweet tea I originally brought out, and Paloma searches for a show to watch, while I make my way to the bathroom to wash my face.
Walking into my bedroom feels like the breath of fresh air I need, this part of my home is my true sanctuary and my lips twitch into a soft smile. The only lights that are on are the dim, motion-activated ones beneath my bed along with the glow from my phone on my nightstand. We promised to put our phones out of sight while we are together tonight and I took that seriously.
I gently shake my head, feeling my curls sway at the motion. Nope. I’m not going to answer the phone, or even look at it. I quickly relieve myself and then wash my hands and face. Snagging the towel I know is there, even in the dark, I pat my face dry.
Before I can make it out of the bedroom, my phone lights up again and this time I can’t pass up temptation.
Jameson
I want to see you again.
It was really great catching up with you, and I would love to keep doing it.
Doing what?
Kissing me senseless…
I don’t know why, but I can’t help myself. I want to tell him how much I enjoy spending time with him too, but his little bubbles pop up, beating me to it.
Jameson
