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I smile at her words, my fingertip touching the raw spot left behind on my lip. I knew that kiss would hurt in a good way.
ME:Fuck the river. I want you in my bed.
I hit send before thinking it through, and my eyes widen when it dawns on me how that sounds.
Shit!
I meant somewhere warm, like inside. And there aren’t a lot of places around here, andshit, shit, shit.
My phone buzzes and I squeeze my eyes shut, praying I didn’t ruin this night. Turns out, this night only gets better.
BROOKY:Ok.
Chapter11
Brooklyn
Ibarely slept. Correction. I did not sleep.
My mind was on a continuous loop that swung from elation and swoon to panic and regret. It’s that last one that hurts. That’s the burning emotion that kept me awake. It’s what has me lying in bed still this morning, long after my roommates have left.
Regret.
I don’t want to regret kissing Cameron. So much of me doesn’t. But that tiny voice, the one that echoes my father’s request, scolds me. It says I messed up. It’s a confusing barrage of thoughts battling for top honors, too. It’s not fair to put Cameron in some category based on something his father did. It’s also the way the world works. How the press works. How the other campaign works.
Walden Bennett Soft on Crime.
Walden Bennett Lets Daughter Date Convict’s Son.
Walden Bennett Wants to Empty the Prisons.
I press my palms to my eyes and groan, ashamed of those thoughts even though they are exactly the types of headlines I would expect—that my father was anticipating with his warning. No matter how unfounded the words are, they get used. Politics is mostly the dark side. It takes work to maintain the light. Even Walden Bennett sinks below the line from time to time, and I see how it weighs on him. It’s trained him to see things coming, however. It’s why he texted me what he did.
None of this is fair, and mostly to Cameron and his dad. I don’t even know what his story is. And I haven’t spoken to my dad since his message, which I didn’t respond to. I’m operating onwhat ifswithout any details, and I’m spiraling to the most negative places my mind will go. Meanwhile, one of the kindest boys I’ve ever known kissed me last night in a way that made my heart explode with happiness. And when he hinted that maybe we do more—more kissing . . . and other things—I said yes. I was swept up by it all. I was happy. Still am. It’s buried, however, underneath all the shit.
Knowing I have to get my ass out to my car soon, I rock myself to a sitting position, expecting my legs to be sore. And they are. Only, not as badly as I expect.
“Son of bitch, that cold water works,” I mutter to myself.
I ball my hands into fists and press along my thighs then grip at my knees and squeeze. My lower limbs are definitely fatigued, and the muscles hurt, but nothing like that first day after climbing.
I slip out of my sweatpants and Cameron’s sweatshirt, which I bury under my pillow, not quite ready to give it back. I’m putting off the inevitable, perhaps, but sleeping in something of his felt nice. I want that option for one more night.
It’s a good day to wear a sweater tunic, boots, and leggings. I complete the office casual ensemble with a messy bun then grab my tote bag and phone just as it buzzes with a message from Cameron.
CAM:What’s wrong? I should never be earlier than you.
My stomach sinks. First with panic that I’m late and second at the reality I’m going to have to sort through in the next few minutes. I’m about to drive into the city with him. I’m going to spend extra time with him getting coffees. And then I will spend my entire day thinking about the time we’ll be together on the ride home.
I want to be with him. I want to be excited about it. I want more kissing. But nobody wants us to go down this path. I can’t even tell my friends about it because their opinion of him is so tainted. They see someone who isn’t serious.
My chest burns with the threat of self-pity and gloom. I cut that feeling off fast, forcing a smile on my face as I snap a quick selfie and send it to Cameron with my message.
ME:Heading out the door.
CAM:Beautiful.
I stop upon reading his instant reply. Thing is, I think he means it.
