Page 40 of What Should Have Been Ours

I stare out the window, my stomach flipping. “Cam.”

His grip tightens on the wheel, but he keeps his eyes on the road. “What?”

I turn toward him fully. “Are we going where I think we’re going?”

His smirk is slow, cocky, and so him that I feel a little dizzy. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

We pull into the parking lot of our favorite arcade. The one we used to spend way too much time at as teenagers. The one where we spent hours competing over games, stuffing our faces with cheap pizza, and talking about everything and nothing like we had all the time in the world.

It looks exactly the same.

I glance over at him as he parks. “I can’t believe this run-down place is still open.”

“Right?” he grins. “Figured I’d bring you back to the scene of all your past humiliations.”

I scoff. “My humiliations? Please. You’re the one who cried after losing three rounds of air hockey in a row.”

His jaw drops. “I did not cry.”

“Oh, you so did. There were real tears, Cam.”

“There was one single tear, and it was because I had something in my eye.”

We immediately fall right back into a fun rhythm together.

We play every game we used to obsess over, talking trash and competing like we’re fifteen again. He lets me win a few times, but I don’t call him out on it.

When I finally beat him in the race simulator—fair and square—I throw my hands up. “Victory!”

Cam groans. “You’re way too competitive.”

I shoot him a smug grin. “Doesn’t feel good, does it?”

He rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch like he’s holding back a smile. “I’ll let you have this one. Only because I have something even better planned for back at my place.”

I arch a brow. “Should I be scared?”

He just smirks. “Probably.”

We’re going to his place.

That shouldn’t make me as nervous as it does.

Just two friends, Gabrielle.

Just two…friends.

* * *

I don’t know what I expected, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.

When we step into Cam’s apartment, I freeze just inside the doorway, blinking like I might’ve walked into the wrong place.

This…is not the Cam I used to know.

It’s clean. Organized. Not a single pile of clothes on the floor, no random junk cluttering the counters, no mysterious boy smell lingering in the air. Instead, it smells fresh, just like him, and everything is neatly put together like an actual responsible adult lives here.

I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes at him. “Okay…who the hell are you, and what did you do with Cameron Hayes?”