“I thought college students were supposed to want to have sex all the time,” she teased.
“Sure, but two months without it and then seven orgasms in a row takes a lot out of a girl.”
Erin’s smile went wide and Cassie realized she’d tipped her hand a bit. She should never be allowed to talk after one orgasm, much less seven. Anyway—Erin had said it’d been a while for her, too, so maybe neither of them had slept with anyone since winter break. Cassie swallowed the sudden flutter in her throat and tightened her arms around Erin. The other woman murmured and lay her head down, her ear pressing into Cassie’s sternum so she could probably hear every rapid beat of Cassie’s heart.
Twenty
ERIN
Erin woke up before seven. Cassie was sleeping like the dead, as if Erin had worn her out. She might have, given that Cassie admitted to not sleeping with anyone else since winter break. Erin hadn’t either, but she didn’t feel worn out. Instead, there was a pleasant ache between her thighs as she practically skipped to the nearest Starbucks. It was an unseasonably warm day, even this early.
It was freeing, to be in Boston. On a whim. For a girl. It was … impulsive, in a way Erin hadn’t been in a long time. Early on in college, she and Rachel would occasionally decide on Friday afternoons that they wanted to go away for the weekend. They’d find the cheapest hotel and most expensive booze they could afford and spend the weekend drunk in a hotel room. But Erin had been a dutiful mom, wife, doctor for so long. Predictable. Expected. This was more fun.
Maybe Erin should’ve been upset Cassie would be spending the summer in Boston. If she were smart, she’d want distance between them. When Cassie just lived in Erin’s phone, it was easier to not think about what they were doing. Seeing Cassie in person—Erin thought of the woman she’d left sleeping in the hotel bed. Cassie’s hair spread wide across the pillow.
She knew she was being stupid. She knew she was making a mistake, every time she smiled at Cassie.
It would be different, this time, from what it had been at Christmas. Erin was denying herself then, or trying to. Over Christmas, Erin had been flying by the seat of her pants, trying to figure out how to get through it. Now, she hardly had the excuse of acting without thinking. She’d had months to think about it. She tried not to, and certainly never admitted to. She and Cassie had never acknowledged the change in their relationship, but they’d been texting every day for more than a month. Since Valentine’s weekend, there had been a day or two when Erin hadn’t talked to Rachel; not a single day passed that she didn’t talk to Cassie.
Erin had lost the ability to tell herself this was just sex. There was lying to yourself and then there was straight up delusion, and this fell more in the latter.
So she didn’t tell herself anything.
In her marriage, she’d spent so long knowing what she wanted and not allowing herself to have it, not allowing herself to even think about it. When she would think about it, she’d talk herself out of it. She did that too often—second-guessed herself into discontent. So, with Cassie, Erin just … didn’t think about it. She knew what she wanted, and for once in her life, she let herself have it.
Cassie was spread across the bed, legs on one side, arms stretching to the other, when Erin returned with a drink carrier in one hand and a pastry bag in the other, a copy of the Globe tucked under one elbow. Cassie looked up at her.
“Oh.”
“Morning.” Erin pressed her lips together instead of beaming. Even when it was only the two of them, being this happy felt like it wasn’t allowed. “I hope you didn’t miss me too much.”
Cassie pushed herself halfway up and jutted her chin out. Erin took her cue and dropped a kiss on that mouth. Cassie grinned at her when she pulled away.
“What’d you get me?”
“Coffee,” Erin said, holding out the carrier so Cassie’s drink was within her reach. “And lemon loaf or zucchini bread. Which do you want?”
“Whichever you don’t.”
Cassie got herself situated in the bed. She was still naked but made no move to get dressed, sitting with her back against the headboard, the sheet tucked around her torso. Erin shrugged out of her jacket.
“Uh,” Cassie said. “You’re in my shirt.”
Erin looked down. She’d put on the first thing she found on the floor of the hotel room—whatever got her to good coffee fastest. She hadn’t realized until now that it was Cassie’s white T-shirt.