Yep, this is definitely her place.
The white, two-story Colonial with navy blue shutters and matching front door perfectly fits Cass the more I look at it. So, either she has a lot of visitors over or she has a ton of roommates. There’s honestly no telling with Cass. She’s always been sort of a wild child, risktaker, but she also goes after what she wants.
When Cassidy was eighteen, she told her parents she wasn’t going to college like the majority of our class. Instead, she took out all the money in her college fund and used it to start her own outdoor sporting goods store. Everyone thought she was fucking insane at the time, but I thought she was brave. I envied her for knowing exactly what she wanted to do with her life, while I was clueless at eighteen. Hell, I’m still clueless at twenty-eight.
Turning off the car, I climb out and grab my luggage from the trunk before walking through the freshly mowed grass to get to the front door. As I reach my finger out to press the button to ring the doorbell, I hear masculine hooting and hollering coming from inside, making me wonder if Cass texted me the wrong address after all. She was never the type of girl to talk to guys other than me.
But then I hear a feminine voice yelling something about not spilling beer on her new sofa. The door is finally yanked open, and then the sweet face of the girl I’ve been friends with for twenty years is filling it.
At least I think it’s the same girl.
Cassidy’s blonde hair is pulled up in the usual messy ponytail; but after talking to her only on video chats for the last few years, I had forgotten how tall and skinny she was. And today, she’s wearing a tight, so, so tight, faded Baltimore Ravens tee that I’m certain was made for toddlers and not grown women, with a pair of snug blue jeans.
There are two major difference from the woman before me and the girl I grew up with. One, her eyes look greener than usual because she’s wearing contacts, not her glasses, which were her staple in school and at night on the phone; and two, she has a really nice rack, like the kind of tits straight men dream of motorboating…
And I immediately despise myself even more than usual for having such a thought about my childhood friend.
“Xavier!” Cassidy exclaims before launching herself and her new boobs at me, pressing them against my chest and nearly knocking me backwards.
“Ah, hi. I caught an earlier flight. Hope that’s okay,” I say as I drop the luggage in my hand to hug her back, inhaling the familiar strawberry scent of her hair.
“Yay! It’s so good to see you in person. All of you! You’re not just a talking head!” she exclaims when she pulls away so that her new tits are no longer smashed against my body.
“Um, yeah, you too,” I remark, trying to keep my eyes from lowering.
Since when did Cass get so…pretty and grown up? As a kid, she was sort of gawky and clumsy with the longest, skinniest legs, reminding me of a cute baby giraffe or deer, which is why I called her Bambi. Now, though…did she look like this at my wedding? If so, that would explain why Camilla practically hissed whenever I even breathed Cass’s name these last few years. At the time, I must not have noticed her looks with my head so far up Camilla’s ass. But now? God, I don’t know how I missed it.
“Come on in,” she says, stepping back to give me room to walk inside.
“I love your place,” I tell her just as a deep voice within yells, “Chug it, you Washington pussy!”
“Sounds like you have quite a crowd,” I remark after I pick up my luggage and then hesitate on the doorstep. “I didn’t mean to drop in early and interrupt if you’re busy. I can stay with my parents tonight.” No. Hell no. “Or at a hotel and come back tomorrow.”
“Xavier Jackson Malone,” Cass says, using my full name and bracing a hand on one of her hips.
“Yeah?”
“Get your ass in here!” she shouts. “I haven’t seen you in, like, three years! You’re staying!”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
Grabbing a handful of my lapel, she pulls me forward. “Yes! You’re not interrupting. It’s just my league.”
“League?” I ask.
“Yeah, our fantasy football league. We’re having our drafting party. The regular season starts next Thursday! Woo-hoo!”
“Right,” I mutter, realizing that she’s talking about football and I’ve never really been a fan.
“I would ask if you want to join us, but we’re already maxed out with twelve players,” she says as I follow her down the hallway. “Besides, it’s not like you could even name three NFL players.”
“Do the Mannings still play quarterback?” I joke.
“Haha. Funny, but you’re a few decades off,” she says, flashing me a smile over her shoulder before we walk into her living room…crammed full of men around a big white board. Big, hairy men who all shut up to stare at me.
“Hey. What’s up?” I say when I sit down my luggage in the middle of the floor.
“Everyone, this is my good friend, Xavier Malone,” Cassidy introduces us. “Xavier, these are a bunch of losers who let me take their money in fantasy football every year.”
There’s a chorus of masculine curses and grumbling, but no one denies that she usually kicks their ass.
“You know our roster is full, Cass,” one of the dickheads with floppy, blond hair and wearing a Patriots jersey says. “No room for the accountant.”
“Lawyer,” I correct.
“Oh, Xavier’s not playing fantasy with us,” Cassidy tells
