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Because I like him.
Another wave of nausea hits me as I look around for any sign of him. I’m pretty sure he’s not here yet, not that I really know who I’m looking for.
Unless that’s the idea.
He could be that old guy in the corner, who’s smiling at me. Maybe he thought I wouldn’t notice that I’m half his age? Or that other guy slumped in the booth, with ten empty beer glasses in front of him. I study every guy in the place, dismissing each of them when I meet their eyes and see no flash of recognition or embarrassment that they’ve been caught out lying. I turn my gaze falls over to the last guy, who’s sitting at the table, over near the bar. He’s facing away from me, but even from behind, there is something familiar about him. I frown, because I can’t put my finger on what it is. Then he turns his head, just enough for me to realize that I know him.
Fuck.
Of all the places to run into Cameron, it has to be here?
How am I going to meet this guy with my future stepbrother a few tables away? I take a deep breath, glance around again. Maybe if I call him, I can catch him before he gets here, and we can meet somewhere else. I dig my phone out of my purse and dial his number. How have we not even spoken on the phone before now? My heart stops when Cameron reaches for his phone too.
No fucking way.
But even without confronting him, I know it’s true. Cameron is James. James is Cameron. They’re the same fucking person. He set me up. I narrow my eyes, a mix of anger and embarrassment surging through me. Every reply I sent James flies through my mind.
Oh God.
I masturbated in front of him and then told him about it.
What kind of sick fuck is he?
My eyes dart to the mirror behind the bar. He’s watching me. He purposely chose that spot, because he thought he could watch everything unfold and I’d never know. I shake my head. He’s probably been sitting there for ages, laughing at me, waiting for the chance to humiliate me in person.
Well, that’s something I’m not going to let him do.
He stands up, his eyes meeting mine just as I turn on my heel and stalk out. My heart pumps rapidly in my chest as I walk a few blocks down from the bar. I try to hail a cab, but nobody will stop. When I glance back and see Cameron catching up to me, I just keep walking. I’m so angry but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’s gotten to me that much. Seeing this kind of reaction is exactly what he wants.
“Darcy. Wait,” he says, grabbing my arm.
I spin around and stare daggers at him.
“Don't you dare even talk to me right now.”
I spit the words at him, my anger levels rising with every word. So much for not showing him what I’m feeling. There’s no hope of me holding back now.
“I knew you were a cockhead, but this is low, even for you.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. The remorseful look in his eyes almost gets me, but then I remind myself of what a manipulator he is. “I honestly didn't mean to hurt you. I just thought it would be funny—”
“Funny?” I repeat. “Am I fucking laughing, Cameron?” I shake my head. “Is everything a joke to you, or is it just specifically me?”
I break the hold he has on my wrist and step back, just as a cab pulls up. My hands shake as I yank open the door and climb inside. I don’t even look back at him as the cab pulls away, because I’m doing everything I can not to cry.
How did I not see that coming?
I’m not sure what upsets me more, the fact that he played me or the fact that I fell for it. I shake my head. Yesterday, I felt guilty for being so hard on him, but maybe I wasn’t being hard enough. At least this proves one thing. I was right about Cameron Hunter all along.I head straight home, praying Mom isn’t going to blindside me with questions. I’m as quiet as possible as I let myself inside, but the silence that greets me tells me I’m alone.
Thank fuck for that.
I run up to my room and close the door, sitting down on the bed. The shock has begun to lessen, and the anger I’m feeling is really beginning to show.
I can’t believe he’d be such an asshole.
I’m not stupid. I knew there was a chance James wasn’t who he said he was. Nor was I head over heels in love with the guy, but I did like him. All those conversations, everything I learned about him, I began to like him. Knowing he isn’t even real makes me feel kind of empty.
