Cassie never meant to fall in love with her roommate Rebecca. In fact, she used to hate the little ditz. The girl's a walking disaster: Clumsy, sheltered, and totally boy crazy. But there's something about her smile, and her never-give-up attitude, that Cass just can't ignore. Over the years, their friendship has become the one constant in Cassie's busy life, and she desperately wants to confess her feelings. But Rebecca is straight. Doesn't that mean a relationship is impossible? Maybe not, because after a strange visit to a fortune teller, Cassie discovers that she now possesses Rebecca's favorite male body part!
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
I grinned. Softer this time, I slid my finger around the rim of her bellybutton. That odd little orifice had teased me for so many weeks, and now I found that its lip was as soft as baby down. "You're so gentle," she whispered.
"Do you want me to be rougher?"
"No," she said quickly. "No, it's nice. You're so nice…" Her slender fingers cupped my jaw and drew me in for another, tentative kiss. "Why are you so nice to me?"
Because I love you, I wanted to say. The words gripped the base of my tongue like the cocked hammer of a gun. I wanted to confess. I wanted to grab her, kiss her harder, squeeze her soft thighs until she whimpered the same. But that would have crossed a line there would be no coming back from. I knew Rebecca wasn't gay. I knew this was comfort to her. She wanted my touch, maybe a soft kiss or two, but more would have confused her.
It hurt not to tell her. It triggered a physical ache deep in my chest that spread up my arms and tightened my veins. You're giving me a heart attack, I thought, as I gently slid her hair out of her eyes and kissed her nose. "I want you to feel better," I whispered. "We're just having fun, right?"
"Sure." A smile broke over her peach lips. "Oh God, I was just thinking of that girl you used to date. Tiffany? I think she was Japanese?"
Rebecca's brows knit together. "She was so mean to me. I never understood why she was such a bitch."
I laughed. "She wasn't that mean…"
"Not to you!" Rebecca exclaimed. She turned bright red when she realized how loud her voice went. We'd been whispering together on the couch for so long that she actually put her hand to her mouth. We giggled together, as if somehow we were interrupting an invisible crowd of people in our secluded apartment. "Not to you," she repeated, more quietly. She idly drew her fingers through my hair. "You had her wrapped around your finger. But she always gave me these looks. She rolled her eyes whenever I said something. I felt like I was offending her in some secret lesbo code."
"I didn't have her wrapped around my finger…" I murmured.
"Oh shut up," said Rebecca. "She was so into you."
I shrugged. "Maybe she felt threatened by you."
It was my turn to play with her hair. "Because she knew I was protective of you. I had to leave a date once to pick you up from the club. Do you remember?"
"Ugh," the girl moaned. "Barely. That was a bad night." She gripped my hand—sliding mid-way through her purple tress—and squeezed. "Thank you."
I squeezed back. "She thought we were sleeping together."
Rebecca's eyes bugged out. "Seriously? Oh, that explains a lot." She scooted down on the couch and moved my hand from her hair to the space just below her breast. It was provocative. Deliberate. And she gave me a mischievous little grin when she did it, as if to say, "Your ex's worst fear has finally come true."
Of course I knew that wouldn't happen. Rebecca didn't want to sleep with me. I kept reminding myself that, hoping she'd prove me wrong.