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21
For the next week I spend all my free time with Camden. When I’m not in lessons, we’re together. Every day I learn something new about him. Small things, little things that other people might not notice or even care about.
He prefers coffee over tea, with cream rather than milk. His favourite colour is grey because it reminds him of his sister’s eyes on the dark nights she’d used to carry his spray cans whilst he painted. He’s not a big fan of Grime music, preferring R&B. His favourite movie is Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. His worst Dirty Dancing because he was forced to watch it hundreds of times by his mum and he’s sick to death ofPatrick fucking Swayze. His words, not mine. We might’ve had a little discussion about that one that lead me to believe he actually quite liked it but of course he’ll deny that at every opportunity. It’s not cool to like a Chick-Flick, after all.
Now, as we sit together during our free period on a bitterly cold Friday afternoon in the formal gardens, I ask him what his favourite food is. They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach right? Not that I need a way to his heart, just his secrets.
“So, you’re telling me the last meal you’d request if you were put on death row is a fucking pepperoni pizza?”
Camden smiles. “What’s wrong with that?”
“You’re actually saying out of all the millions of different foods you could possibly choose from you’d have that?”
“What can I say? I’m a simple man with simple pleasures.”
I roll my eyes at that. “There’s nothing simple about you, Camden.”
“When it comes to my favourite food, I’m all about the simple things.”
“What about pudding?”
“Easy, Tiramisu.”
“Are you a secret Italian or something?” I joke, smiling.
“Do I look Italian?” he grins widely, his gold tooth catching the light. “Though, I am built like a stallion, if you know what I mean?”
“Uh-huh, you keep telling yourself that.”
“Seriously, have you seen the size of my feet?” he asks, lifting his very considerable sized foot. “Size thirteen. You know what they say about big feet…”
“Oh, Jesus…”
He laughs loudly, winking.
“It’s not the size that matters, but what you can do with it,” I retort with a smirk.
“Believe me, Asia, I knowexactlywhat to do with it. They don’t call me Mr Lover Man for nothing.” He starts undulating his hips in some weird seated dance. I pull a face, groaning.
“Not impressed?” he asks.
“Nope…”
He bumps me with his shoulder grinning. This is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him. Until it isn’t…
“Looks like we’ve got company,” his says, his smile fading quickly as he looks off into the distance. I follow his gaze. Leaving the main building are Eastern, Pink and Kate. Monk is following them.
“What the fuck is he up too?” I grind out.
“Nothing good,” Camden responds, his demeanour changes from relaxed to stiff.
We both watch, relatively hidden from view given the bench we’re sitting on is beneath the arch of a privet hedge that’s slightly grown over. Monk approaches the group walking with a swagger that he’s no right to feel given I served him his arse last term. I suppose being the King’s son gives him a sense of security like nothing else does. God, I want to fucking kill him. He sidles up to Pink, having the audacity to slide his hand down her back and squeeze her arse. She turns abruptly, shoving him in his chest.
“Thatmotherfucker!” I snarl, getting to my feet, ready to barrel over there and kick his arse.
“Wait!” Camden says, gripping my arm before I can do something stupid.
“How fucking dare he?!”
