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“You two were full of tension when you were talking earlier. Like, the way he looked at you. The things he said. When he touched you.” Cheyenne fans her hand in front of her face. “Hot.”
“Not hot. Cold. Totally cold.” I’m in complete denial. “He’s not interested in me like that.”
“Oh, he is,” Cheyenne argues. “But I get it. You need to keep your distance from each other or whatever.”
“Right,” I say weakly, wondering why we’re keeping our distance from each other.
Well, I know why. Cam gave me an entire list as to why.
Knox is my brother.
Knox is his roommate.
So that equals a conflict of interest in his eyes.
Cam doesn’t do relationships.
I have relationship written all over me in invisible letters.
While we both know he’d mostly likely hurt me and eventually break my heart.
How does he know I only do relationships? The last time I was in a relationship, I was a freshman in college, and it lasted for approximately six months with a dude named Randy.
We had Intro to Statistics together and that class was super difficult, which allowed us to bond together while we whined about how tough the subject was. We started studying together, spending a couple of hours in a local coffeeshop pouring over our textbooks and trying to figure out what we were doing. Then we started talking. Talking led to going out to dinner, to going to the movies, to going back to his house and messing around.
I broke it off after the class was over. I realized I didn’t particularly care for his giant ego and vaguely pretentious ways.
Before Randy, there was my high school boyfriend, Travis Strickland. Football player. Good looking and popular. My fatherlovedhim. They would talk football together, ad nauseum, every time he came over, and I remember being so bored. But also, I was grateful Knox wasn’t around because he would’ve completely taken over the conversation and my dad was bad enough.
Oh, Knox also would’ve threatened poor Travis and told him to watch it or he’d have to kill him, which is what has Cam currently running.
Travis was my first love, my first heartbreak, the first boy I ever had sex with, and while it was all right, it wasn’t much to brag about. Randy was better in bed but not by a whole lot. Neither one of them necessarily rocked my world, so to speak.
I definitely never felt all aflutter and ready to sink to my knees in front of a guy like I do around Cam. He gives me a look and I’m breathless. He touches me in the most impersonal way and I think I might keel over. And when he hugs me, like he did approximately an hour ago?
Forget it. I’m surprised I’m still functioning.
The hairs on the back of my neck start to tingle and I lift my head, glancing around as inconspicuously as possible, my gaze landing on Cam, who’s still sitting at the same table, his dark gaze on me.
I don’t look away. It’s as if I can’t. I stand up straighter, thrusting my chest out, giving him a good look at what he’s missing, and then with a huff, I push away from the table, marching directly toward him.
The panic on his face is almost amusing. I can see it flare in his gaze and he looks down at the table, like he can’t even face me.
At the last second, I dodge right, returning to the bathroom, his gaze trailing after me. I can literally feel it, hot and intense, and I look over my shoulder, making sure he’s still watching before I duck into the single unisex bathroom.
Leaving the door unlocked.
My heart racing, I go to the sink and wash my shaking hands, hopeful that I didn’t misread the situation. If he sneaks into the bathroom with me, then I have a chance, but if he doesn’t…
I’ll stop. I won’t bother him again. I’ll let this be and move on.
Seconds turn into minutes and my chest begins to ache. He’s not coming. I was wrong. He told me how he felt and he one hundred percent meant—
The door swings open and Cam barges his way in, locking the door behind him. He stops short when he finds me standing in the middle of the room, a crumpled paper towel still clutched in my hand.
I quickly toss it into the wastebasket, gasping when Cam grabs a hold of me and takes me with him, backing me up into the wall. My butt hits it first and he braces his hands on either side of the wall, caging me in. Trapping me.
“You’re trying to drive me out of my fuckin’ mind, aren’t you?”
