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“Cameron will call you if she wants to talk, but I wouldn’t bet on it. If you haven’t figured it out yet, she’s a stubborn one.” “I’m well aware,” Alister bites back. “Then you’re aware she’s not in the business of second chances.” Alister crosses his arms. “Which will make it all the sweeter when she awards me one.” “Don’t hold your breath.” “Don’t fall for my girl.”
“Is that an iced Caramel Cookie Crumble with extra cookie and extra crumble?” “You mean is this a whole-ass sugar bomb for the sugar queen? Yes. Yes, it is.”
No, that he’s “pretty sure” he’s falling in love with me. Like, boy, fuck off, ’cause guess what? I’m “pretty sure” I hate you.
Why else do men do stupid, poorly thought-out shit? For the love of a girl.
“Do you even have to try and get laid, or do girls just fall from the sky and land on your dick?”
The girl might be hell on wheels, but at the same time, she’s soft as the sunset.
What is it they say, ignorance is bliss? I’m sure it is up until the day you’re blindsided by the truth you never saw coming, because once you know the truth, there’s no turning back. No forgetting or letting go. After that it’s just the truth…and the lies you’re forced to tell yourself.
“No, but you don’t hurt people when you’re hurt. You don’t act out. You accept it and you move on.”
I’ve got her entire schedule memorized, know all her favorite places on campus, and I’m not afraid of a little coercion if it comes down to it.
“Brady?” We’re running out of time. He swallows, and a small frown builds across my brow. “Trust me?” he whispers. “Always.”
“What’s going on is you interrupted us.” Brady glares, his hands still sealed on my sides. “Now if you don’t mind”—good God almighty, I kissed Brady Lancaster—“I’d like to get back to kissing my girlfriend.” I can’t believe that just— Wait. What?
“Did I not tell you?” I pause. “I just got here, my girl is here, and you’re interrupting our night.” He glares, standing taller. “She’s not yours.” “Kind of feels like she is.”
“Hey, Brady,” she whispers, her head falling to my chest when the song ends. “Yeah?” “Thanks for rescuing me again tonight.” “Always, Cammie Baby. Always.”
“I’ll kiss her anytime I want…anywhere I want, if you feel me.” Brady smirks.
I shake the guys off, glaring at the asshole who made my Cammie Girl cry.
And girl’s got a booty. Ever since she and Ari did that Booty Bootcamp thing, whatever the fuck that is, it’s been poppin’.
“Sorry, boys,” she teases, meeting my gaze over her shoulder with a grin. “But I belong to someone else.” I smirk from her to them. “She belongs to me.”
“My number, my name.” He throws me a quick wink. “My heart on her sleeve.”
“That boy is gone on you.” I laugh, shaking my head. “Oh no, we’re…” I pause, not wanting to say fake dating because that would be a whole-ass story to get into. “Just having fun.” “Oh, honey.” She stands, taking her stack of papers with her as she rounds the desk, patting my shoulder on her way. “Bless your little heart.”
She’s with him. She’s with him and that should be perfectly fine. It should be, so why exactly does it feel like I swallowed a balloon that’s blowing up inside me, taking up all the room, until all the air from my lungs is forced out like a solid hit to the chest?
“He always said don’t commit to something in life you’re not one hundred percent sure about and can’t give your all to.”
No one deserves half-assed, even if that’s all they offer you. Be better. Do better. Be the reason someone else smiles, even if all you want to do is cry, and you can cry, Son. All good men do from time to time.
’Cause, fuck me, I think that’s what I am. Hers. And she’s mine. If only for a little while…
“Fucking Spidey!” He gives a full spin, wearing a tight-as-shit onesie. “Holy shit, bro, you actually wore it!” “Dude, Deaton picked it out. What was I supposed to do, tell him no?”
I wink at him and his frown deepens. Has he not figured out he likes her yet? Man. My friends are slow to the ball when it comes to women.
He winks and moves around the table, and call me Michael Myers because I stalk him all the way. I just can’t look away.
We high five as we pass the back of the truck and then meet in the middle of the front end. The chorus hits and we sing like lunatics, doing the damn dance she and Ari forced us to learn when this went viral and our parents made us promise not to follow how it’s supposed to go but to dance around a parked car rather than a moving one.
My chest rumbles, and I tug her to me. “We’re pretending, remember? So you don’t say just first.” I bite her lower lip. “You say first and last.”
Cameron’s the snow and I’m the sleigh—I only make sense with her. I’m the leather, and she’s the lace; we fit to form the perfect union.
“Guys.” I say it a little louder this time, and I look up, finding they all stopped what they’re doing and are now staring at me. “I’m jealous.” A few chuckles and a few girlie awws. I glare. “Not helpful. How do I stop?”
My turkey was good, great even, but Chef Noah’s was the best shit I ever tasted. Even better than last year, that fucker. My lips turn up. Love that guy.
