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I stare down at the magazine when I hear the door open. It’s been on the same page for the last half an hour, but I pretend to be engrossed in it. I see him out of the corner of my eye. I tense when he stares at me. I look up at him, but I don’t return his sheepish smile. I raise my eyebrows at him.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“You mom sent me a message. She wanted to speak to me about something.”
“Right,” I nod. “She told me to tell you it’s all sorted. She found it, whatever that means.”
“Oh, okay.” He stands awkwardly in the doorway, then walks over and sits in the armchair next to the couch. “I just want to say I’m sorry again. I never meant to hurt you or make you feel bad.”
I look at him, then sit forward, so our knees are almost touching.
“I guess I might have overreacted a little,” I mumble. I look down at the rug beneath the coffee table and breathe in, then I release it loudly. “It’s just…” I shake my head and laugh. “It doesn’t matter.”
“No, what is it?” he asks. He looks genuinely concerned about me.
“Maybe it was just a bit of fun a bit of fun for you, but for me…” I let my voice trail off and then I laugh again. “Look, just leave it. Please?”
I go to stand up. He does too, reaching for my hand to stop me walking away. I swing back around to face him and find myself pressed against his chest. My heart races as I look up at him. I’ve lost sight of what’s real and what I’m forcing myself to feel as I stare at those lips.
I lift myself onto my toes and press my lips against his. He doesn’t react at first. I start to pull away but then he starts kissing me back, rolling his mouth over mine. I sigh as he cups my chin, tilting my head up so he can deepen the kiss. I shiver as his hand creeps across my cheek, then he gently caresses my neck, massaging his mouth against mine.
Fuck. I’m enjoying this.
What was supposed to last a few seconds just keeps going on, until eventually, we break away. I stare up at him, my head a whirlwind of thoughts I can’t actually identify. I feel dazed, almost like that kiss was real. Until I remember what I'm doing. I laugh and lower my head, as if I’m annoyed at myself.
“That just made things a thousand times worse,” I mutter. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
I run outside and get in my car, then I drive around to the park. I get out, logging into my email as I change into my running shoes that I keep in my car. I used to jog every day, but since I started working, I’d been neglecting it. I bring up the saved email that I wrote to him earlier and I press send. Smiling, I slip my phone into my jacket, lock the car, and then start my run.
Now all I have to do is wait, then kick things up another level.I wait until the next morning before I start phase two.
He still hasn't replied to the initial email I sent him yesterday, which doesn't surprise me. He might not have even seen it yet. I schedule emails to send at various points throughout the day. There's about ten of them in total, which become more insecure and unstable as they go on. I’ve also set up a series of texts using an online text messaging service, which makes it seem like the texts are coming from my phone. I’m both creeped out and thrilled that’s even a thing.
I walk into work, feeling pretty good about myself. Cameron is going to be inundated with calls, texts, and messages from me all day and I don't have to do a thing to make it happen. This stage of my plan executes itself. Add to them the flowers and chocolate basket deliveries I have planned. One thing is for sure; he’s going to regret ever messing with me.Chapter TenCameronI frown at my laptop screen. I’m not sure what to think about what I just read, so I read it again.
Dear Cameron,
Arrogant. Rude. Asshole.
That pretty summed up my first impression of you. The next few times we met, that impression didn’t change much.
James was the total opposite of you. He was funny, sweet, and kind. I woke up, excited for his messages and went to sleep thinking about him. I dreamt about him and the more I learned about him, the more I wanted to know. I told myself I wouldn’t get past the point where I was in too deep, not before we met at least. Then before I knew it, I was there.
