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Because I had no right to suggest that I would be any smarter than he was if our roles were reversed.
So I sat beside him and nursed a beer while he threw back a couple of drinks with lightning speed. His mood had been sour and dark. I sensed he felt guilty for his comment about Camp’s mother. Which, in my opinion, was just him speaking the truth. But it wasn’t Camp’s fault. And people sometimes don’t want to hear the truth.
I should have been worried that my own mother was going to barge in and drag me away. I wouldn’t put it past her. She was not feeling this whole relationship with my “tour guide.” I wish the same could be said for me.
It was clear Cain was hurt by his mother’s comment that he might be beyond fixing. I wanted to cup his cheeks and stare into his eyes and convey to him that I thought he was amazing. That his anger was justified. But that maybe he should want something better. Something more.
With me.
And that last part was precisely why I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure if my motives were pure or not. I had the niggling fear that I was just being selfish, wanting Cain.
We were dancing around the topic. Had been for days. I sensed Cain wanted to reach for it as much as I did. But then I got terrified that I was reading the cues wrong and he was just having fun, an extended hookup. That I was a distraction from the usual routine of his life.
“Do you like baseball?” Cain asked, gesturing to the TV.
The Red Sox were on. “I mean, I don’t dislike it. I wouldn’t call myself any sort of expert though. I’ve never been to a live game.”
He looked at me like that was the most insane thing he had ever heard. “What the fuck? You grew up in Boston and you have never been to a baseball game?” He shook his head. “That’s criminal.”
“My father didn’t think I would be interested.”
“That’s bad parenting right there. It’s every father’s responsibility to subject his children to his love of baseball. What they do with it from there is on them, but he should have at least tried.”
That amused me. I propped my chin on the palm of my hand. “He had other priorities. Like making money and having sex with women who were not his wife.”
“For real?” Cain shook his head when I nodded. “That’s some fucking bullshit right there.”
I shrugged. “I was a weird kid. He was an unemotional guy. You do the math.” I pointed my finger at him and smiled. “Get it? Do the math.”
Cain grinned. “Ba dum bom. Don’t quit school for comedy, kid.”
“That’s the second time you’ve suggested a mathematics degree is the most appropriate course for me.”
His mouth opened and his expression was enigmatic. But then he closed his mouth again and shook his head slightly, a sly smile on his face. “It’s true.”
It felt like he had been about to say something else but he just took a sip of his drink. Watching him brought it home to me again how surreal this all was. He was so damn gorgeous. The kind of good-looking guy, so built and hot, that other girls would envy me and my position. As they should. He made sex amazing.
Needing to confirm his presence I reached out and pinched his arm. He was real. This was real. His skin was warm beneath my fingers and rolled when I squeezed.
“Hey!” He looked at me, amused. “What the hell was that for?”
I just shook my head. I turned my glass around and around in circles, focusing on the sound it made, scraping against the wood top of the bar. It soothed me. Darryl interrupted my OCD moment. “You need another drink, Sophie?”
I shook my head. “I have to leave in a minute, but thanks.”
“She’s sneaking out to be with me,” Cain said, making me sound like a rebellious teen.
“I’m twenty-four years old,” I said. “I don’t need to sneak around to see a guy.”
“Yeah, well, this isn’t the guy to take home to your parents,” Darryl said.
“Fuck you,” was Cain’s opinion on that.
Darryl grinned. “You two look good together. I hate to admit it.”
Cain looked embarrassed. “Go wash a glass or something.”
Darryl left, laughing.
