Page 4 of Forrest
Cassy: Hey, Skye! How about you let me know you’re okay?
Cassy: Fine! If that’s the way you want to be!
Cassy: I’m sorry. I love you. Call me when you’re ready.
Cassy: Hey! Bitch! That was your cue to actually call me back.
Cassy: Still love you...
Cassy: But every second you don’t reply, a fragment of my love vanishes.
Cassy: Forever.
Cassy: never to return.
Cassy: … unless you buy me chocolate.
I roll my eyes. Cassy’s my best friend. We’ve known each other since high school.
It’s the first time I’ve had signal in over a day, and I have a ton of messages wondering where the heck I’ve disappeared to. But the only ones I care about are from Cassy.
Me: Hey, biatch! I’m fine. Needed to get away. Will be back in town in a couple of days. We should catch up xxx
I put the phone on the table and take another sip of my coffee. It’s hot and strong and totally frigging delicious. I look up at Forrest, only to find he’s still staring at me. I nearly spit my coffee straight in his face. Has he been looking at me like this the whole time? Like he wants to eat me.
If he wasn’t so hot, I’d be totally freaking out.
He bites his lip and looks across the table. He’s rubbing small circles on the table with his index finger. It’s hypnotic. I imagine that finger on my pussy. Gliding through my wet, silken folds. Rubbing over my clit. Again and again. Like an unstoppable force hell-bent on making me cum.
My phone beeps. I shake my head, trying to clear it of all these sexual thoughts.
An hour ago, I was lying on the grass outside the cabin crying my eyes out. I’d given up. Sworn off men. Accepted a future of spinsterhood with open arms. But now things are different. Now I’ve met Forrest…
Cassy: Phew! You had me worried!
She sends an almost incoherent stream of emojis and GIFs, ending with Ru Paul snapping his fingers and looking into the camera a la Derrick Zoolander.
I can’t help but giggle.
Of all the people in the whole world, Cassy always knows exactly how to cheer me up.
I quickly snap a picture of Forrest without him knowing. He’s still looking at me. It’s not the greatest angle, and the lighting is kind of shit, but he still looks like he should be in a mountain man edition of GQ.
His perfectly square jaw. Those steely grey eyes. The dark, mysterious tattoos crawling up his neck and covering his hands. I wonder where else he has those tattoos, and will I ever get the chance to find out.
I send the picture to Cassy.
Me: Hey, girl! Is it me, or is this guy unbelievably scrumptious?
4
Forrest
Skye’s facelights up as she taps on her phone. I know she’s taken a photo of me. Probably talking to her friends about me. But I don’t mind.
Hopefully, I’m having the same kind of effect on her, as she is on me.
I can’t take my eyes off her.
