I STARE at Cam in disbelief. Is he for real right now? He always acts like he’s got everything under control. Like nothing bothers him. He’s calm on the field, off the field, everywhere he’s at. To hear him say he doesn’t always believe in himself is…
Shocking.
What else is shocking is him voluntarily touching me at a frat party. In public. Surrounded by all kinds of people. His fingers are still wrapped around my wrist, his other arm somehow slipping around my waist, and I go completely still when I see the heated look in his eyes.
Like he…wants me.
“This dress is criminal,” he murmurs, his gaze sweeping over me, leaving me shaky. His fingers slip just beneath the fabric of my dress’ open back, pressing into my skin. “I should’ve never let you leave the house wearing it.”
I glance down at myself, noting the way my cleavage is most definitely exposed, before I return my gaze to Cam’s. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It shows too much skin.” His fingers dip lower, and I suck in a sharp breath. “We should get out of here.”
“We barely just got here.”
“No one will notice we’re gone.”
“They’ll miss you. Ace was so glad you came.”
“Yeah. About Ace.” Cam releases his hold on me, dipping his head so he can murmur in my ear, “Did he ask you if we were together?”
I nod, keeping my head bent, staying as close to him as possible. I am enjoying this way too much. “He saw you touch my leg last night at Logan’s.”
“Yeah. He told me the same thing.” Cam lifts away from me, his expression unreadable. “Let’s go.”
“Yo, Fields! What the fuck are you doing with your hands on Maguire’s sister?”
We both whirl around to find Derek striding into the kitchen, a girl under each of his arms, a giant shit-eating grin on his face. Cam springs away from me like I’m diseased, and I run a shaky hand through my hair, flipping it over my shoulder.
“Wasn’t touching her.” Cam looks at me. “Was I touching you?”
I turn to face Derek and declare, “He had his hands all over me.”
Derek laughs, dropping his arms from the girls’ shoulders. “That’s what I thought. I like this girl, Camden. She’s feisty.”
Guys who call women feisty should be socked in the gut, I swear. “Derek, I would never let you touch me. Knox has told me too many things about you.”
Derek actually appears offended and the girls who still stand on either side of him start giggling. “What sort of things?”
“That you’re a manwhore for one.” Like how Joanna’s roommate Natalie ended up leaving the bar with Derek last night and now here he is at a frat party with not just one but two women hanging off of him.
Derek flicks his chin at me. “Nothing wrong with that. Your brother’s one too.”
I make a face. “No need to give me details.”
“And Cam isn’t an altar boy either. He might be the worst out of all of us.” Derek waves a hand in Cam’s direction.
“Oh, really?” I turn to look at Cam and he’s hanging his head, but I can see his cheeks are faintly pink. Like he’s embarrassed.
“Yeah, he’s a complete dog. He’s always hooking up with girls, taking them out to the Challenger. The back seat of that car has seen some major action.” Derek chortles. “Hell, he just had some chick back there last week—”
“Shut the fuck up, D,” Cam practically snarls, his panicked gaze flitting in my direction for the briefest moment before he looks away.
“Sorry, captain,” Derek says morosely, before he grabs his girls and steers them out to the backyard.
More deafening silence follows when Derek’s gone and it’s just me and Cam, watching each other warily. Derek’s words still ring in my head.
“The Challenger sees a lot of action, huh?” I raise my brows.
“Don’t listen to him—”
Not wanting to hear his lame defense, I interrupt him.
“I swear I’ve even heard Knox say that.” I cross my arms, trying to fight the humiliation that wants to take over. Feeling stupid and used and just completely…ugh. Why didn’t Cam just try and make out with me in the back seat of his car already? I probably would’ve done whatever he wanted last night. All he had to do was say the word, and like the idiot I am, I would’ve been rolling around in the back seat at word go, eager to give him a hand job or whatever.
God, I’m so dumb.
“I mean, it’s not a lie, okay? Yes, the back seat of my car might’ve seen…some action.” Cam appears pained by the admission. Good. “But Derek is exaggerating. They all exaggerate. My number is definitely lower than what people claim it is.”
“And what exactly is your number?”
He rubs his chin, grimacing. “I don’t want to say it out loud.”
Which means it’s awful.
“I know my exact number.” I drop my arms at my side, glaring at him. “It’s four.”
With that, I turn and exit the kitchen, the volume level increasing twenty-fold when I enter the living room. There are people everywhere. Groups of girls talking and laughing. A cluster of guys doing the same. There are couples blatantly groping each other and couples that are arguing. One girl has tears streaming down her face as she yells at who I can only assume is her boyfriend, her friends standing right behind her in solidarity.
Every single person has some sort of alcoholic beverage in their hand.
I push my way through the crowd, smiling when I make eye contact with anyone, none of their faces familiar. Sometimes I wonder if it was a bad idea, transferring to the same university my brother goes to after spending the last two years at home, attending community college and trying to figure out what I want to do with my life.
I still don’t know what I want to do with my life, but I know one thing I want to do right freaking now.
And that’s drop-kick Camden Fields across the room.
More like I’m furious at myself. Furious at Cam for being so incredibly good looking and charming and popular. He’s been with so many girls, the back seat of his car should probably be sanitized, possibly even reupholstered, and God, I hate how pathetic that makes me feel.
Maybe I need to change my focus and find a nice guy to fall for. A calm, slightly nerdy, really smart guy, who’s quiet and no one notices. Who might not make me shake or tingle every time he so much as looks at me, but that’s okay. I can deal with that. As long as he’s sweet and kind, I can teach him how to give me an orgasm. It’s not that hard.
I’m close to the front door of the house, eager to make my escape, when a big body brushes against my back, an arm shooting out to stop me from opening the door. I recognize the hand that presses against the wood, his fingers splayed. That hand will most likely make him millions someday.
Despite everything I just learned, despite my worry and feelings of stupidity, I still want those same big hands all over me.
Just once. Just so I know what it’s like.
“This all feels very familiar,” I tell Cam, glancing over my shoulder to find him hovering behind me.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Ooh, he sounds mad. Good.
I’m mad too.
I lift my chin. “I’m leaving.”
“Hey.” He rests his other hand on my waist, a ghost of a touch that I can’t help but lean into, which means that since the dress has cut-outs, his fingers are now burning into my bare skin. “I’m an asshole.”
“You are,” I readily agree.
“I didn’t have a girl in the back seat of my car last week.”
I swallow hard, briefly closing my eyes. That was the part that got to me the most. He could be flirting with me, staring at me, rejecting me and still hooking up with other women.
“I haven’t been with a girl in…a while,” he admits, his voice low and shivery and doing weird things to my insides. Twisting them all up and making me feel…agitated.
In a good way.
Facing the door, I ask, “Really?”
“B, look at me.” I do as he asks, hating how much I like him just calling me B. “Believe me. Don’t believe Derek. That guy is an asshole.”
“So are you. You just said so yourself.”
“True. But when it comes to you, I won’t be an asshole. I never want to treat you bad. Or disrespect you.”
“Because of my brother?”
“Because of you. I like you. Not because you’re my best friend’s sister, either.” He inclines his head toward the open archway to the right of the front door. “Come sit with me. We don’t need to leave yet. I’ll grab us some drinks and we can just sit around and…talk.”
“You want to talk to me? Out in public?” I’m shocked.
His smile is slow. Sexy. Every little part of me lights up and I can’t stop staring at his lips when he speaks. “Yeah. Who’s going to say anything? We’re just friends, right?”
“Right,” I echo, letting him take my hand and lead me into the small, cozy room that actually has seating available. There’s an overstuffed couch and loveseat that are angled next to each other, both occupied by people on either end. I sit on the loveseat and Cam sits on the couch, a small end table with a lamp between us.
“Save my seat,” he orders before he rises to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”
I watch him leave, startled by the turn of events. Confused by my feelings for him. I glance over at the couple sitting on the other end of the couch. They’re completely wrapped up in each other, passionately kissing. I swear I see tongue at one point and I look away, just before I see him touch her boob.
I really hope they don’t have sex in here. That’ll be super awkward.
Cam is back within two minutes, carrying a solo cup in each hand and when he gives me mine, I check the contents inside—it’s blue—before I glance up at him. “What is this?”
“A wine cooler.” He shrugs, slightly sheepish. “They always have a few in the fridge for the girls who don’t want to drink the other stuff.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve been to this frat before. A few times.” He settles onto the spot he just vacated, sending a concerned glance toward the groping couple before he takes a swig from his cup. “I wanted to make sure you were drinking something you liked.”
“I drank beer last night.”
“You barely choked it down.”
True.
And I love that he noticed that.
I take a sip from the cup, surprised to find the drink fruity and delicious. I take a bigger gulp, tasting the alcohol this time around, and I make an ahh sound after I swallow.
“You like it?”
I’m a little embarrassed he caught me doing that. “Definitely. Thank you.”
“Still mad at me?”
I wince. “A little.”
“Can I make it up to you?”
“Definitely.” I nod, staring at the contents of my cup once more.
“How?”
“Talk to me.” It’s so simple. But it’s all I want.
Just your basic conversation with Cam. No protesting, no telling me, stay away, you’re my best friend’s sister type stuff.
“We talk,” he says almost defiantly. He sounds defensive. “Isn’t what we’re doing right now?”
“I want to have a real conversation with you, Camden Fields. I want to know your favorite season. Mine is fall. Do you have a sweet tooth or a salty one? Did you wear braces, because you have really straight teeth, so I’m going to assume yes. What’s your favorite color, your favorite food? What are you scared of? What makes you happy? If you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you go? When was your first kiss, your first heartbreak, your first job? When did you know you wanted to be a football player? Tell me everything.” I prop my elbow on the arm of the loveseat, resting my chin on my fist and wait for his response.
