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“And do what?”
“I don’t know…talk?” His hand drops from my waist and I can breathe again. “I feel bad.”
“About what?” Oh shit. He better not feel…sympathy toward me. I don’t want his pity.
A frustrated sound leaves him and he grabs my hand, pulling me through the crowd as he leads me to the back of the building. “I’ll tell you when we sit.”
I let him drag me through the bar, smiling at a few people I pass by, confused why so many of them are frowning, most of them female. It dawns on me quickly that they look that way because they’re probably jealous. Every girl on this campus seems to want a chance at Camden Fields, star quarterback.
Including me.
I have a moment of sudden crisis, my self-confidence crumbling the deeper we get into the bar, all of those negative thoughts filling my head, though I’m not exactly sure why.
Maybe I’m only fooling myself. There is no real reason Cam would be interested in me. People might think I have an advantage because I’m his best friend’s little sister, but Cam most likely views me as the girl with the stupid crush on him. He’s only nice to me because I amuse him. I’m that annoying little sister who ogled him like some sort of weird perv that one summer he came to our house, and now he puts up with me merely because Knox told him to.
And that is the absolute worst.
Once we’re seated at a tiny table in the darkest corner of the bar, my knees knocking into his since we’re sitting so close, I’m on the verge of tears.
He is going to let me down easy in a very public setting, which is smart on his part.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” The concerned look on his face is undeniable, and I’m sure he’s feeling that way only because he knows Knox will kick his ass if he hurts me in any sort of way.
“Nothing.” I shake my head, sniffing loudly.Suck it up, buttercup.I used to say that to Ruby, right before she fell apart for no good reason, which was often back in the day.
I need to take my own advice.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, once I’m a little more composed.
He scratches at the back of his neck, seemingly uncomfortable before he finally blurts, “I’m sorry I unloaded on you.”
I blink at him, shocked he’d apologize.
“A couple of days ago,” he adds, like I might’ve forgotten.
“Oh, I remember when it happened.”
“Yeah.” He rests his arms on the tiny table, his hands close enough to touch me. He stares at them, as if he doesn’t want to meet my gaze. “I kind of lost it.”
“It’s okay,” I say gently, reaching out to pat his hand with mine. I jerk my fingers back the moment I make contact with his warm skin. “We all have our moments.”
“I never have a moment. I’m always chill.”
“Chill? I don’t know if that’s the word I would use to describe you.”
“How would you describe me, then?” He lifts his head, fixing his gaze on mine.
“Intense? Quiet? High strung?” I threw the last one out there just to bug him.
It works. His face turns a little redder and he shakes his head. “I disagree.”
“But we both agree that you lost your cool a couple of days ago.”
A long, drawn-out exhale leaves him and he stares at the table once more. “Yeah, I definitely did. And like I just said, I’m sorry.”
“Thank you for apologizing.”
He glances up. “Thanks for putting up with me.”
