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She shakes her head. “I’m not.”
I knew that, but I still wanted confirmation. “And we aren’t to see anyone else but each other for the next six months.”
“Right.”
“Okay, not to sound like a fuckboy, but I have needs.”
She scoffs. “Needs?”
“Yeah, six months is a long time, and as you said, we aren’t to see anyone else. So, what am I supposed to do?”
Her eyes darken, and it may be in my head, but I think she’s jealous. “You have great hands, according to the NHL.”
My lips quirk as I nod. “I absolutely do, but—”
She holds up her hands.
Hands I want to touch me.
With a firm look, she says, “This is a future conversation. We don’t even know if this will work.”
“Oh, it’ll work,” I promise. “I’ll make it believable.”
The look on her face takes my breath away. It’s somewhere between fear and excitement. She looks down at her hands. “How do you know?”
“Because I do,” I say softly, licking my lips. I pull my phone out from between my legs and click the app for my BullieBoards. It’s like Twitter for students at the school. I hit the button to make a post and then get to work.
@CameronWhite1
I’m shooting my shot. Come to the home opener Friday, and I’ll score a goal for you.
Hopeful, #61
When her phone sounds, she reaches into her hoodie pocket, and her lips curve once she reads my message. “This wasn’t in the script.”
I shrug. “I’m not scriptable, Cameron.”
Her breath catches. “So, you’re going to do this with me?”
“I am.”
Soon, both our phones are sounding with people responding to my post. Within seconds, hundreds of comments are under my post for her, just like I assumed would happen. The BullieBoards are the best for getting everyone’s attention.
When she looks up at me, my stomach swirls with desire. Oh, how I want her. How I want this. But I want more than what the terms she laid out give me.
I want all of her. I just have to make her realize that.
“Thank—”
“But,” I say, cutting her off. “I hope you’re ready for this to be believable.”
“I am,” she says, way too quickly and without an ounce of confidence.
I should feel bad for how that excites me, but I don’t.
Because Cameron White has no clue what she just got herself into.
Chapter Eight
Cameron
@BensonJeannot61
One goal? That’s all? For me to come to your game, I’m gonna need a hat trick.
I know my worth.
Skeptically, Cameron
@CameronWhite1
Are you skeptical ’cause you think I can’t score you a hat trick? Let me just say, even without the pleasure of knowing you’ll be cheering me on, I can score with my eyes closed. And I am well aware of your worth, pretty lady, which is why I’d offer more than a hat trick. Just ask.
No longer hopeful, but yours, #61
@BensonJeannot61
I have seen you play, and it’s a sight to behold. As long as you know my worth, Benson Jeannot, I may be able to make an appearance. I’ll need to get some Bullies gear, I guess. Since all I have is gymnastics gear.
Pleasantly excited, Cameron
@CameronWhite1
While I enjoy, immensely, seeing you in your gymnastics gear, MY jersey will be waiting for you, in your seat. Front row, seat 61.
Yours, #61
@BensonJeannot61
Your jersey? What if I want to wear another number?
Just saying, Cameron
@CameronWhite1
That’s not happening. Only my sweater, with my number, will cover that sweet body of yours.
Yours, #61
@BensonJeannot61
Possessive, much?
Once more, skeptical, Cameron
@CameronWhite1
When you feel how great it is to wear my sweater with my number, you’ll see why I say that. As for being possessive, is it being possessive when I know who I want to wear my number and who I want to score for? Some would think this exchange is romantic.
Stop being skeptical, read my words, believe them, yours, #61
@BensonJeannot61
And some would throw red flags at this exchange.
Some may be swooning.
I guess we’ll see Friday. Which I will.
Deciding, Cameron
@CameronWhite1
I’ll see you Friday, Cameron White.
Yours, #61
I press my tongue into the back of my teeth and resist wiggling like a little schoolgirl. While his words are fuel to the fire of my heart, I know he is laying it on thick. Especially when the first post from him had over a thousand comments urging me to go, and some that said if I won’t, they will. Guys and girls. While I knew from the jump that Benson would be the best for this project, I truly didn’t expect it to soar the way it already is.
I’m super excited, though I need to remind myself this is all for show.
It’s not real.
I have needs.
Jesus. I can’t even fathom that right now.
I sit in front of the mirror, my ring light set up from where I filmed myself getting ready to go to Benson’s game. I’m tying my shoes while Callie sits on my bed on her phone.
“That was some exchange.”
