Page 135 of Broken Pieces
He tries to recover, sneering through gritted teeth.
“Fuck off. No guy with standards would ever fuck you, Cassie. They’d have to be blind or desperate to touch you.”
She steps forward, smile stretching, all teeth and vengeance. “Good. I’d hate to contract your limp-dick disease. Pretty sure my pussy would dry up just hearing your voice.”
More laughter.
Liam’s face goes red, followed by that weird blotchy purple he gets when he’s close to losing his shit. He mutters something about sluts and stalks off, his crew trailing behind him.
Cassie watches him go, shoulders squared, breathing a little hard.
After a beat she turns to me.
“You okay?” I ask, hating that asshole even more for going after the one thing I know gets to her. Cassie hides it well, all loud confidence and sharp comebacks, but I know the truth. She hates how she looks, even though she has no reason to. She’s pretty—fuck, she’s more than that—but she never sees it.
Her mouth quirks into that fake-ass grin she always pulls out when someone hits too close.
“I’m fucking fantastic. Nothing like emasculating an idiot in front of his own limp dick parade to make a girl’s morning.”
I don’t say anything. I walk beside her, letting the silence settle.
“Alright, what the fuck is going on with you?” she demands, stepping in front of me as if she’s about to stage an intervention. “You’ve been weird all morning. You didn’t even laugh at my perfect dick joke. That shit was gold. Pulitzer-worthy.”
I rub the back of my neck, let out a breath. “I lost my virginity last night.”
Cassie’s jaw hits the floor. “Shut the actual fuck up. Who?”
I don’t say a word.
Her eyes nearly burst out of her skull. “No. No. Don’t even play. Zane?”
I nod once.
“Fucking finally,” she exhales. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. The tension between the two of you could power a city. Was it… Wait, no, don’t tell me. Actually, do. No, don’t. Shit.” She fans herself dramatically. “Of course it was good. That boy has fuck-me energy for days. I’d be on my knees every night thanking the universe if I had a piece of that.”
“Cass—”
She throws her coffee in the trash, eyes still bulging like I told her aliens landed in the quad.
“Nope. I can’t. I need a fucking minute to process this. You need to sit my ass down and walk me through every detail. I want timestamps. I want choreography. Hell, I want mood lighting and background music.”
She grabs my arm, dragging me toward the bench as if it’s a crime scene that needs investigating.
“Was it the roof? Oh, tell me it was the fucking roof. Wait, no… don’t tell me. Actually, fuck it, tell me. How was it? Did he have that fuck-all-night stamina or the I’ll-ruin-you-in-ten-minutes kind? Wait. Did he go down on you? Of course he fucking did. That boy looks like he eats pussy for sport. And takes his damn time doing it.”
I open my mouth to speak but she steamrolls right over me.
“God, I knew he’d be good. It’s the quiet ones, you know. The ones with those hands. You know the ones.” She wiggles her fingers for emphasis. “Those are not the hands of a man who’s in a hurry. Those are the hands of a man who studies anatomy for fun.”
She beams at me, completely unbothered, practically vibrating with second-hand orgasms. “Bitch, spill every filthy word.”
I blush, which only makes her cackle harder.
“It was… incredible,” I admit, voice low. “But now it’s fucking weird.”
Cassie stops laughing instantly. “Weird how? Did he pull some freaky shit? Chains… Mirror above the bed. Leave nothing out.”
I shake my head. “No. It wasn’t like that. He was… God, he was fucking perfect. But after that, he left early.”
