Page 92 of That Guy


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“Yep. This is going to work out perfectly,” Penelope announces, snapping and shooting her finger guns before shuffling her feet in a river dance. “Cam, meet Emily. She’s gonna be your That Girl.”

I grin at Emily. It widens when she flushes darker. So I offer her a real smile just to see her reaction and I swear she whimpers. It strengthens my confidence and I summon my charm. Ignore my pounding heart. Take a step toward her. She looks like she wants to take a step back but holds her ground and lifts her chin to keep those magnificent eyes on mine.

It makes me like her even more.

I take another step.

“I hate to break it to you, P, but Emily isn’t That Girl.” I reach out and tuck a lock of Emily’s hair behind her ear—noting the way goosebumps break out across her neck.

“Oh yeah?” Penelope is pissed. I can only smile. “And why the fuck is that, Cam?”

“Because That Girl can be anybody’s girl.” I lock my eyes with Emily’s. “But this girl?”

I wink.

And if I wasn’t sure before, I know the moment she melts before my eyes that my next words are nothing short of the fucking truth.

“She’s…My Girl.”

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