That Witch! (8 page)

None of it mattered. Cassidy’s thoughts were racing, and her emotions were beginning to get the best of her. Right up to the minute Brynn took off, Cassidy had been stupidly hoping that Brynn was feeling the same way she was. She thought she’d seen Brynn stealing glances at her, gaze wandering from the action on the flat screen and possibly wondering what it would be like if they acted out the scenes in real life. For a second, she had even talked herself into believing Brynn wanted to kiss her.

All that hope and possibility darted out behind Brynn, leaving Cassidy full of questions and worse, self-doubt—something she was not comfortable with
at all
. Why did Brynn leave? Was Brynn homophobic? She had been fine up until the girls in the movie kissed. Did Brynn think Cassidy was some sort of perv for wanting to watch such a sultry flick? Was she going to run off to school and spread vicious rumors about Cassidy’s obvious comfort with lesbians, implying that she was into girls? It wasn’t a lie, but it really wasn’t what Cassidy needed, either.

The TV flickered before it returned to the main Netflix menu, and still she sat there with nothing but a headful of doubt and an uneasy feeling pulling at her stomach until her mom’s voice cut through the silence, startling her. “Cassidy, honey? We’re home. Come say hi to Nana,” her mother called up from the spot at the base of the stairs where she always stood to make announcements Cassidy needed to hear beyond her always-closed bedroom door.

“Just a minute, Mom,” she replied with a despondent sigh.

Reaching over for the remote, something black on the floor caught her attention. Brynn’s cute Mary Janes. Jesus tap-dancing Christ, the girl had been so distraught she left without her shoes. That added a whole new level of insecurity to Cassidy’s already mounting incertitude.
Am I really so bad that she couldn’t wait to get away from me?
And there she thought Brynn had been genuinely enjoying her company, just as she had been thoroughly enjoying Brynn’s.

Guess not.

She thought about taking Brynn’s shoes back to her, but decided against it. Not only did she not really know which house was Brynn’s since they all looked alike, but she didn’t want to seem like a desperate stalker, checking up on the girl who had just rocketed out of her house because obviously she thought Cassidy was a freak.

So this is what she feels like at school. How horrible.

It was a feeling Cassidy didn’t want to experience again.

Picking up the shoes, she allowed herself a moment to feel the supple leather—to take in the feel of the only thing she had of Brynn’s—before she put them into her backpack so she could return them to her at school on Monday.

With the last trace of Brynn gone, she padded down the stairs and sat with her mother and grandmother in the kitchen while they made dinner. The rest of the evening was spent talking over food about her school activities, her grandmother’s adventures in composting, and her mother’s newfound love of gardening. Through all the chatter, Cassidy kept her wrist close to her face. The spot where Brynn’s hand had delicately wrapped around it—warmly, caringly—when Cassidy told her about her father. It was stupid, but she felt close to Brynn that way. Why she even wanted to feel close to a girl who obviously didn’t feel the same way about her was even stupider, but she did it anyway.

By the time everyone in the house agreed on plans for the following day and went to bed, Cassidy still hadn’t shaken Brynn, or the way Brynn had reacted, from her system. She lay awake for hours, looking out the open window at the night sky, wondering for the millionth time why Brynn had taken off like a bat outta hell. She finally fell asleep with a clouded head and her wrist tucked tightly against her chest.

She awoke the same way too. The morning sun peered in past the sheer curtains, warming her face with its gentle rays. The aroma of toast and coffee lingered in the air, replacing the last, faint trace of Brynn’s scent from her room.

What did it mean when your last thoughts of the night and first thoughts of the day were of the same person? Nothing good, that much was sure. Not when said person didn’t feel the same way she did, nor did it appear that Brynn was even into playing for the same team she did. Talk about a whole other league. Brynn wasn’t just outside the league, she was in a whole different ballpark, playing a totally different game altogether… and that just made Cassidy want her even more. Chalk it up to her competitive nature and her determined attitude.

She finally let go of the wrist she’d been clinging to all night long and rose from the bed, ready to face a day without Brynn Michaels padding through her head.

That mentality lasted all of maybe two hours.

Her grandmother and mom decided to change their plans and head out to the beach instead, since the day was too beautiful to pass up the opportunity. It was just another cloudless, sunny day in California to Cassidy, but to the women, it was a chance to soak in the sun and ocean breeze. Of course, she couldn’t talk her way out of the beach. She tried, though. It didn’t work and she now sat on the sand, clad in her white and black polka dot bikini and staring out at the shoreline in a daze.

A group of pretty girls gathered nearby—five of them, all perfectly tanned and sculpted in designer bikinis—four blondes and a ginger. They caught Cassidy’s attention not because they were pretty, nor because their swimsuits were killer, but because the ginger chick sat sort of on the outside of the group of blondes. Even though they appeared to all be friends, the redhead didn’t participate as actively in the conversation the others were engaged in. Her bikini was cut a different way—not the standard Brazilian style the others had, but a more covering bottom piece and a top with a flattering empire cut. The way she tucked her shoulder-length crimson hair behind one ear reminded Cassidy of Brynn. Hell, her whole demeanor was all Brynn.

Cassidy wanted to go and talk to her. She could always use a new friend, right? Exactly.

Excusing herself from her present company, she padded through the warm sand toward the group of girls. The four blondes all rose, almost synchronously, and headed toward the water before she even made it to the edge of their towels. The ginger, however, remained behind and smiled warmly up at her when Cassidy offered a friendly “Hello.”

“Hi,” the ginger replied, still smiling.

“I was sitting over there and noticed your bathing suit. It’s great.”

“Oh, thanks. I got it at Ross for twenty bucks. It’s a Vivienne Westwood.”

Was that right? What the heck was Ross and why hadn’t Cassidy ever been there? A designer bathing suit for twenty dollars! What had she been missing? The surprised look on her face must have amused the ginger, because a giggle bubbled up past her lips, and she extended an arm. “I’m Natasha.”

Cassidy reached down and placed her dainty palm in Natasha’s hand, smiling from ear to ear suddenly. “That’s a beautiful name. I’m Cassidy. Nice to meet you.”

“Ditto.”

Before Cassidy could get any further in conversation, one of the blondes called her newfound friend into the water, and Natasha politely excused herself. “My girlfriend apparently wants me to go swim or play chicken—” She giggled. Again. “But check out Ross whenever you get a chance.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

Natasha rose from her spot on the towel and ran off, kicking up sand as she crossed the beach before splashing into the water, leaving Cassidy to return to her mother and grandmother whom were in a deep discussion about the president. Cassidy knew that particular conversation would last quite some time since her grandmother was a die-hard Republican and her mother was the poster child for Democrats. At least it kept her mind off Brynn.

That was, until she thought about
not
thinking about Brynn, which led her to thinking about Brynn again. Which she did for the remainder of her stay at the beach, their stop at a Mexican place to eat dinner, all through the drive home, and well into the night as they pulled into the driveway, then through her shower, and as she got ready for bed.

This was becoming a pattern, it seemed. Going to bed with thoughts of Brynn darting out the door with no rhyme or reason, followed by feelings of insecurity and self-doubt, and finally, back to Brynn with more unanswered questions.

The worst part was that she couldn’t even confront Brynn about why she’d booked it. Actually, she
could
ask Brynn, but she wouldn’t out of fear of the answer. It was one thing to think you were a freak for liking girls; it was a-whole-nother to hear it said out loud by the one girl you had somehow begun to fall for.

And round and round her thoughts went until she resolved to remove Brynn from her head and try to get some sleep, knowing full well she dreaded facing the girl tomorrow more than she dreaded being outed at school.

T
HE
alarm clock wailed the most horrendous, biting sound and ripped Brynn from her sleep. She swatted at the thing, sending it flying off her nightstand and bouncing down to the floor. This was going to end up being the worst Monday ever. She could already feel it in the pit of her gut. Not only had she managed to get about two hours of sleep for all her internal panicking, but she also had to face Cassidy Rivers again—the reason for her internal panicking.

Groaning, Brynn rolled out of the bed. Her black fuzzy socks contrasted the light-gray carpeted floor. She kept staring down, only occasionally attempting to blink the sleep from her eyes. Yes, she absolutely
was
procrastinating, only because she didn’t know what seeing Cassidy again would do to her.

Jeez, maybe she could suddenly become deathly ill and “call in sick” like her parents did when they didn’t want to go to work. Wait. No. She couldn’t. There was a stupid history quiz today.

Sighing, Brynn pushed up from the bed and went over to her closet. She grabbed a pair of black skinny jeans and a black hoodie, a black T-shirt, and her black Converse. Maybe if she looked like a shadow and hid beneath the cover of a hooded sweatshirt, Cassidy wouldn’t notice her and wouldn’t demand to know why she’d hightailed it out of the house. After all, it wasn’t like she could tell Cassidy how she’d been picturing them in that movie instead of Neve and Denise.

After pulling her jeans up her short, skinny legs and the T-shirt and hoodie over her head, she slipped her feet into her shoes, then hurried down to the bathroom. The minutes were dwindling, and her stubborn reluctance to leave her bed had cost her precious moments in front of the mirror. Thankfully, her hair was still a bit damp from the shower last night, so she could brush it board straight without using the flatiron. Didn’t matter really, though, since she fully intended to keep her entire head hidden under her hoodie.

“I’m gone, Mom,” she called from the base of the stairs as she grabbed her backpack from the spot she’d dropped it Saturday evening.

Crazy thing was, she’d gone all weekend without touching her laptop. In fact, she hadn’t even bothered with her phone—something that was normally glued to her hand at all times. Not this time. She spent Sunday hiding in the bed, beneath layers of covers so no one would bother her, all the while thinking about Cassidy and how she’d had the urge to kiss the cheerleader. Not once, but many, many times. That revelation scared the hell out of her and confused her. Did her desire to kiss Cassidy make her a lesbian?

Shaking off the thought as best as she could, she climbed into her car, eased out of the driveway, rounded the cul-de-sac, and headed out of her neighborhood. She tried not to stare as she passed the Riverses’ house, tried not to wonder what Cassidy thought of her now.

The drive to school didn’t take long at all. In fact, it didn’t give Brynn a whole lot of time to think about anything, which was both good and bad. She didn’t have a lot of time to stress over the unwavering need to taste Cassidy’s lips or the unnerving uncertainty of facing the cheerleader for the first time. Would she blurt her feelings out because she always had those foot-in-mouth moments when she got nervous? Or would she be too afraid to utter the first word?

When Brynn pulled into the school’s parking lot, the place was pretty much deserted. Brynn couldn’t have been more relieved. She just knew she would be able to sneak into the library and wait out the thirty minutes to go before the bell rang. But the moment she climbed out of her car, grabbed her backpack from the passenger seat, and spun back around toward the school, Cassidy’s sporty silver Scion wheeled in beside her. The sight of it stole Brynn’s breath away. And when Cassidy popped up from the driver’s side, Brynn instinctually lowered her head.

“I brought your shoes,” Cassidy said, without a “Good morning” or even a hello. She rounded the back of her car, reached into her Dolce & Gabbana backpack, and pulled Brynn’s Mary Janes out but didn’t hand them to her. She just stood there, sort of hanging onto the shoes.

“Sorry for leaving them,” Brynn responded, closing the distance between them. She reached out to grab her shoes, intent on doing it very quickly, but the moment her fingers grazed Cassidy’s, Brynn froze. A gasp left her lips, and her eyes widened. She tried to swallow the new knot in her throat and couldn’t. Nor could she bring herself to let go.