Chapter 2: Have You Ever?

Continued from chapter 1:

Cassidy’s face lights up at the mention of food and my plans, her green eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Guacamole and beer sounds like the perfect combination right now! You sure know how to make a girl feel welcome.”

She takes a long sip from her bottle, a small drop of foam clinging to her upper lip. Licking it away, she smiles at me warmly.

“And a bonfire? That sounds absolutely magical, especially with this beautiful weather we’re having.”

Setting her beer down, Cassidy moves to peek out the back window, her lithe form silhouetted against the afternoon sun streaming in.

“Your backyard looks like the ideal spot for relaxing and unwinding after a busy semester.”

Turning back to me, she tilts her head thoughtfully, a mischievous glint in her eye.

I see her smile and wait to see what she’s cooking up in that pretty little head of hers.

Chapter 2:

A slow, playful grin spreads across Cassidy’s face as she saunters back towards me, her hips swaying hypnotically with each step. She stops mere inches away, close enough that I can smell the sweet scent of her perfume mingling with the crisp aroma of the beer.

“You know, since Becky’s gone and we both have the whole weekend ahead of us… maybe we could make this a regular thing? At least for this week…”

Her slender fingers trace lightly along my forearm as she gazes up at me through her lashes.

“I mean, someone needs to help you polish off all that guac and beer, right? And keep you company by the fire…”

Cassidy bites her lower lip softly, her meaning hanging heavy in the charged air between us.

“Unless you had other plans, of course…”

“Cassidy, I can’t think of a better way to spend my fall break, but don’t you have better things to do than hang out with an old guy like me?”

Her expression softens, her hand moving to rest gently on my chest.

“Please don’t sell yourself short like that. Age is just a number, and you’re far from ‘old’ in my book.”

She steps even closer, her body nearly pressing against mine now.

“I want to spend time with you, not because I have nothing better to do, but because I genuinely enjoy your company. You’re intelligent, kind, and utterly charming…”

Cassidy’s fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt as she holds my gaze intently. The air between us feels electric with tension and possibility.

“Cassidy…I’m not sure where this is going, but I don’t want to rush in. Let’s get another beer and take our snacks out to the back porch.”

“It’s a beautiful fall evening, and there’s going to be a pretty great sunset tonight. I’ll get the fire started and put on some tunes. Anything in particular you want to listen to?”

Cassidy blinks, momentarily taken aback by my gentle rebuff. But she quickly recovers, nodding in understanding and respect.

“Of course, you’re absolutely right. Let’s just enjoy the evening and see where things naturally lead.”

She gives my chest a friendly pat before stepping back, a warm smile playing on her lips.

“Another beer sounds perfect, and your plan for the back porch is ideal. As for music…”

Cassidy hums thoughtfully.

“I’m in the mood for something mellow and atmospheric. Maybe some Zach Bryan? ‘Something in the Orange’ might set the perfect vibe for a cozy autumn evening.”

I get the fire going, and we polish off the chips and guac, well into our third beer as the sun sets and “Hey Driver” pops up in the shuffle.

“Cassidy? What do you want out of life? What are you going to school for? Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

Cassidy listens to the melancholic strains of “Hey Driver,” her eyes reflecting the dancing flames of the fire. She takes a long sip of her beer before answering, her voice thoughtful.

“You know, I’ve always dreamed of becoming a writer. There’s something so powerful about using words to paint pictures, evoke emotions, and share stories that resonate with people.”

She gazes into the distance, as if envisioning her future.

“That’s why I’m majoring in English Literature and Creative Writing. I want to hone my craft, learn from the masters, and eventually create my own works that touch lives.”

Cassidy turns back to me, a wistful smile on her face.

“As for a boyfriend, I guess I haven’t found someone who truly understands and appreciates the depth of my ambitions yet.”

I’ve had just enough beer to pipe up. “That’s awesome! I’ve just picked up writing myself…”

Then, a cold sinking feeling washes over me as I remember exactly what I’ve been writing about. I hope she doesn’t ask…

Cassidy’s eyes light up with genuine interest and enthusiasm at my revelation.

“Really? That’s amazing! I’d love to hear more about your writing journey sometime.”

She scoots a bit closer to me on the porch swing, her knee lightly brushing against my thigh.

“We could even exchange pieces and give each other feedback, if you’re comfortable with that. I’m always eager to connect with fellow writers and gain new perspectives.”

Noticing my sudden discomfort, Cassidy tilts her head questioningly.

“Hey, is everything okay? You seemed to tense up there for a second.”

Her hand comes to rest gently on my forearm, her touch warm and reassuring through the fabric of my sleeve.

“If I said something wrong, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry or make you uncomfortable. Your privacy is important to me.”

"I'm not uncomfortable," I say slowly, "It's just that… it’s just sometimes I don’t think before I speak. I have been writing, quite a bit actually, but… well, it’s kind of embarrassing to talk about.”

“You’re a lit major, probably super talented, you have a future, plans, all of that. While I’d love to read what you’ve written, I’m not sure you’d want to read my… writing.”

I give her a wry smile and finish my beer, pulling another one out of the ice and popping the top. The fire is warm and pops with sparks. I stare into it, waiting for the axe to fall.

Cassidy watches me closely, her brow furrowed with concern and confusion. She remains silent for a long moment, allowing me space to collect my thoughts. When she finally speaks, her voice is soft but firm with conviction.

“Listen to me carefully. Your worth and talent aren’t defined by what you write or what stage of life you’re in. Everyone starts somewhere, and everyone has their own unique voice and story to tell.”

To be continued in chapter 3...