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Camden treated me with more respect and gentleness than he ever has in the last hour. I barely even recognized him.
As it turns out, I can't join them for lunch, because I have a trial shift at the café.
It goes well, and I receive an official offer. I take it, careful to let them know I’m unavailable on Fridays.
Heading back home, as I check my phone, I notice a text I missed.
Camden: The guys were disappointed you didn't show up.
Me: Sorry, I was working.
Camden: Working?
Me: At the library's café. They had an opening.
Camden: You don't need to work.
Me: Of course I need to work.
Camden: You have a new credit card that says otherwise.
Me: Your card. For as long as you want me to have it. What am I supposed to do when you don't?
Camden: Always the glass half empty.
Me: I'm realistic.
Camden: You're a coward. Loose the job. You can't coast here like you did in your high school. If you don't want to fail, you need to study.
I've already noticed that the courses are challenging—and it's the start of the year—but that doesn't change the fact that I need an income.
Me: You're not the boss of me.
Camden: Do you really have to fight this hard to prove it to yourself?
I'm not trying to prove anything; I'm just retaining someindependence. Camden is a storm. He came into my life, destroying everything in his path, and leaving me with nothing buthim. His money, his school, his choices. When he gets tired of me, I'll have nothing left.
I'm just ensuring that when the dust settles, I'm still left standing. There's nothing wrong with being careful.
ChapterSixty-Three
This arrangement is fucking frustrating. Morgan screws me any which way I tell her to, but every time I try to do something nice for her, she cross-examines my intentions, trying to see a trap, a trick. The fucking idiot just can’t get it into her head that I want to make her happy. It probably doesn’t help that I fuck her like I hate her.
“No girlfriend again?” Rhys checks.
I don’t know why I even bothered to look toward the bleachers. I never told Morgan to come see me play, and most of our games are on Saturdays anyway, so she probably wouldn’t. At least, she hangs out with us occasionally, and almost always sits with me when we have a class together.
I shrug, trying not to let it get to me. “Maybe I’ll let yours suck my cock.”
He laughs, easily amused.
He and I both know he’s not dating the pretty, prissy thing he’s eyeing in the bleachers—and I certainly wouldn’t put my cock anywhere near her mouth. She might be hot, but no woman is worth going to jail for.
“How old is she now?” I check.
“Seventeen,” Rhys replies without having to think about it.
We both know he’s been counting the days for the last year or so. He doesn’t speak to her—or about her, for that matter—but he’s obsessed. Maybe even more than I am with Morgan.
