Is this my second drink, or third? I think second. I’m just on the edge of feeling tipsy. I should probably pay attention. I’m more distracted by my best friend across from me in this booth. He looks hot. So hot. Cam wears gym shorts with either sweaters or tank tops depending on the weather, but when hetries. . . Dammit. He looks criminal right now.
He’s wearing a buttoned up, nearly black dress shirt with the top three buttons loose, showing off slivers of flawless brown skin. He smells amazing. He looks amazing. To add insult to it all, I think he spent a total of fifteen minutes getting ready, while I was in the bathroom for over an hour and I still look like a washed-up carcass.
Okay, no I don’t, but still! Could he at leastlooklike he put in zero effort?
I stumbled and faltered around in the bathroom, showering and scrubbing every single part of my body raw—couldn’t do a damn thing for my stringy hair—and nearly caused myself to have a panic attack that almost morphed into a fully blown asthma attack.
“You look cute, Bo.”I don’t want to look cute, Camden!I want to look sexy and irresistible. I want to look like him . . . strong and confident. I want to melt panties the way he does—well, I guess briefs in my case, but still. I want someone to find me irresistible and sexy. “If at any point you want to go home, text me and I’ll come get you.”
“So you can stop mid-thrust and take me home?” I snort. Okay, yeah, I am still a little bitter. I grab my second or third drink, taking a healthy sip. Oh this jealousy is not cute. I don’t know why I’m feeling more and more annoyed sitting here. I’m so nervous.
“Bo, this was your idea. Why are you acting like this?”
My attitude softens. My edges are mine to smooth and it’s not Cam’s fault. I feel so high-strung right now. “I’m nervous, okay. Sorry.” I try on a smile. “I’m fine.”
“You deserve to have fun, Bo. Just be careful. I’m here if you need anything, alright? I don’t care what—”
“Or who—”
He blinks, looking at me flatly. “I don’t care what I’m doing; I have your back.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I want to go home. I want to go home and watch one of his unnecessarily long animes and listen to him nerdsplain about digital media and why it’s not great. I want him to turn my kitchen upside down while he makes crazy good but also somehow healthy food that I can actually eat without my body rebelling against me, all while I steal kisses from him in the kitchen.
I want him to beat me at Monopoly and fall asleep in my arms while the spicy scent of whatever ungodly cologne he’s wearing right now floats into my head. I want him to make out with me with no end in sight. I want the hugs he gives me to be romantic, and when he says“I love you,”I want him to mean it with every breath he takes.
And that is exactly why I need to do this.
I find way too much comfort in this six-foot pain in my ass, and I need to let go. We’re almost thirty, and life is going to come collect him one way or another. It’s useless. He’ll find someone permanent and I’m going to hate her.
Unless she loves him right, then maybe I’ll hate her a little less.
Someday Camden will get married and have kids, maybe, and I’m going to be there loving them all just as much as I love him.
I want that for him more than I want him for me.
No one deserves it more.
Although . . . all these years and I’ve never pictured that person being a guy. Seeing him kiss a man may very well end me, but I will support him. No matter what. “You smell really good,” he says softly.
“Huh?” He’s looking at me and I can’t place the emotion etched on his face. He’s so beautiful—strong jaw, full lips, lopsided smile when he says something corny. Which is often. Beautiful, beautiful, soft golden eyes that make me feel more things than I want to. He has a small scar under his eye from when he fell over the handle bars of his bike in third grade. He nearly lost an eye. My mom gave him butterfly stitches for the cut and a popsicle for the crying.
“You look good, Bo. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” I grab my drink, swallowing the thick feeling in my throat. On a good day, bars are not my thing. Honestly, people are not my thing, but you can’t get laid alone so here I am. I am here andI am going to let someone fuck me. Cam is fucking someone. Everyone is fucking someone tonight.
Love that for both of us.
“Thanks.”
“Whoever you hook up with tonight better worship the ground you walk on,” he warns. His eyes pin me in place. Seriously, he’s fucking with my head. It’s unfair. My eyes begin to burn. “Bo, what’s wrong—”
“Camden?” A deep voice startles me as a man appears at our table.
For fuck’s sake.
Of course he’s gorgeous! Just like the damn women he always ends up with.
I am officially the biggest idiot on the planet. This right here is all I need to know. Of course I wouldn’t even be his type if he liked men. This guy,Jesus, what the hell is wrong with him? His dark brown hair is neatly styled, he’s wearing a silky maroon button-up shirt, and his black dress pants are hugging his thick thighs. His soft brown eyes are pretty. I somehow pull my gaze away from this gorgeous Greek sculpture and nearly flinch finding Cam staring right at me. “Cam?”
“Didn’t know this was a group thing,” the guy laughs nervously. “The more the merrier, though, I always say.” He grins, winking at me. “What’s your name, cutie—”
