“No!”Absolutely.“You’re so full of yourself.”
“Well, you should. I work very hard on it.” He goes back to searching while I go back to staring. He issofucking right. The fabric of his briefs is practically painted along the curve of his cheeks. Cam is gorgeous, I know this, and I also know that if he were into guys, I would still have no fucking chance. Cam is tall, six foot, and made of pure steel. The muscles in his arms flex as he rummages through the mess in my closet, and the swell of his perfect ass is hypnotizing.
My gaze travels down his thick muscled thighs, all the way down to his shapely calves. He’s wearing black socks, a pair of briefs, and nothing else now, and he has an unfinished tattoo on his back—an outline of a bear. It looks badass too.
What no one would know just by looking at it is that he whined like a fucking baby getting it. I thought the tattoo artist was going to throw him out. She was so unimpressed, and each time she asked him if he needed a break he refused. He was determined, bitching and all, to get it done. It’s just the outline of the creature and some minor detailing because he didn’t want to go back to get it finished. It’s good, though. Her outline pops against his skin. “Can you stop objectifying me and help?!” he slurs, swaying a bit.
Show’s over, I guess. I drop to my knees beside him. I’m feeling it too. I don’t really drink at all, and I’m not sure what was in those, but it’s making my head light and happy. Thankfully Cam switched to water. “Let me help you find the hotDragon Ballguys.”
“They’re not hot. They’re warriors!” He glares.
“Hard disagree. Have you seen Goku’s abs? Would love to taste his senzu beans.”
Cam’s face morphs with disgust, staring at me as if I have three heads. “No more alcohol for you.” He goes back to the mess, and yeah, I should probably learn to actually put things away instead of shoving everything I don’t want to deal with in here.
Most of Cam’s things are in this room, and a lot are in the closet. Cam and I never officially moved in together, but most of his things are here, and no matter what, they never seem to leave. It’s like he leaves pieces of himself here for me to find. “This closet is a mess,” he grumbles.
Taking a deep breath, I watch Cam, who’s now elbow deep in the danger zone. “It’s mostly your shit.”
“I can’t find anything. You sure they’re in here?” I have been meaning to put some shelves up. There are things Cam always leaves here no matter where he lives—I know he’s embarrassed about his anime figure collection. I don’t know which number ex told him it was childish, but that’s stupid. They’re collectible, and Cam loves the things. Would they judge him if he liked sports and collected that memorabilia? Probably not.
That’s why I let him keep stuff here. I’d hate for him to throw it away just because someone he’s with thought it was lame.
It’s a deep closet, and yeah, it could use a bit of organizing. Putting up a shelf would mean power tools, though, and I know I’d fuck it up. I looked it up and read something about finding studs, and I don’t know what the hell that means. What the hell is a stud? What do they even do? Maybe Cam knows . . . although Cam with power tools seems frightening. I know if I asked he’d say some shit like,“I got your stud right here,”while pointing to himself.
“We gotta work out a system. Next day off we’re going through this mess.” He looks over at me, hands on his knees and sitting back on his thighs. Gorgeous muscled thighs. Fuck he’s beautiful. “Eyes up here, Bo?”
I blink and look up at him. “Do you know what a stud is?” Cam’s grin spreads wide on his handsome face.Yep. Just what I thought. “Not you, jackass. Like, in the wall, and how to find it.”
“You need a stud thingy.”
“A stud thingy?”Great.
“It goesbeepbeepbeep, or I’m assuming it does. When, you know, it finds a stud. Maybe it doesn’t beep. How would you know, though, if it finds one? Maybe it lights up. When, you know, it finds the stud.”
“To then do what?”
Cam’s thick brows pinch. “When, you know, it finds a stud, you do the thing you need to do when you find it.”
“And what’s that Cam?”
“Obviously . . . um . . . the thing you needed to find it for.”
“Right, well, once we figure out just what that is, I’m going to build you a shelf so we actually have a spot to put your things.”
“You don’t have to. They’re kind of childish, no?”
“You collect them. They’re not childish.”
“They’re toys,” he says softly
“When I called them toys it was a problem.” I see the war in his eyes. I just want to know what she said to him, but I’m starting to suspect what it was. “You collect things, Cam, it’s cool. You have an awesome collection.” I know it’s been a while since he got himself a new one too. I hate how he tries to mold himself to fit others.
We haven’t discussed living or sleeping arrangements, but I don’t want him on the couch; it’s too small. I hate sleeping on my couch too. It freaks me out for some reason. I only really sleep well in my bed, in the comfort of my own room.
Cam moved out of his place when he moved in with Siena, and he makes good money, but I’ve realized I don’t want him to leave. Not yet.
Give it time and another girl will snag his attention and take him from me anyway.
