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I look down at my guitar, watching my fingers move and the ring light shine off the smooth wood below the strings. I love this song, love the artist who sings it, but listening to Quinn is like listening to his soul cry for Emery. No, I didn’t get the name wrong. No one can tell me anything different. This dude doesn’t sing for anyone but her. I am damn sure even Ava knows that.
That chick.
What the hell.
We finish the song, and our eyes meet. His mouth is hidden behind his mic, but I know he’s grinning by the way his blue eyes shine. The dude smiles with his eyes first. His face is very expressive, much like Cameron’s. Before I can fall into all the ways her eyes lit up, her lips curved, and how fucking good she looked in my jersey last night, I say, “Sick, man.”
He nods, grinning as he gets up, shutting off the camera and then picking it up to take to the computer to start editing the video. Some may edit all their footage at once, but that’s not how Quinn does things. He makes sure the video is perfectly edited, and then he confirms the audio sounds right before he posts. It takes longer, but I trust his process.
“Last night was over the top,” he calls to me, and I laugh as I gently set my guitar in its case before spreading out on the couch. “Mom and Dad were laughing at you.”
I know. Shea made a point to tell me I’m going to have to shoot harder to be on his level.
Unable to stop the grin, I say, “But did you see? I have over six thousand new followers today.”
He nods. “Yeah, I saw. I never doubted Cameron. She’s a badass influencer. The video she made of you was really good, fun.”
I may have saved it. “Yup, she’s doing what she said.” He sends me a knowing look. “What?”
“So, you’re gonna keep acting like you need her help until…?”
“Until I know she wants me.”
“And you don’t think she does?”
“I assume, but she’s hard to read.”
He looks back at his computer. “Just don’t put yourself out there first. She’ll break you again.”
“Words from someone who knows?”
“Yup, and I wish you’d leave it be. You’re wasting your time.”
I stare at him until he looks back at me. “If this were you and Emery, what would you do?”
He presses his lips together. “I’m getting married.”
“Sure, but I got it on good faith, Ava would be left at the altar and Emery would be in your arms.”
He doesn’t even dignify me with a response—rude, really—as he looks back at the computer again. I roll my eyes because he knows I’m right. I open my phone to check my emails because while we were singing, I noticed my phone was going off like crazy. I have emails from some major hockey equipment companies for influencing work, and I reply to them that I’d love to meet up with them. I’ll need to thank Cameron when I see her.
Whenever that will be.
I didn’t see her after the game as I assumed I would. Though, I think that was me being hopeful she’d wait around for me. I looked for her, but it wasn’t scripted for us to see each other. Honestly, nothing from last night was, but I had to show her that this could work. This is my in. The in I’ve been waiting for.
She has been avoiding me for three years, but now that she’s come to me to fake date—which is laughable—she’s about to see what it’s like to date Benson Jeannot. And if, for some crazy reason, she has forgotten what it’s like to have me between her legs, I will eagerly remind her.
Until she never forgets.
I lick my lips at just the thought of her perfect hips in my hands. I love her hips. Like, in an unhealthy way. When I watch her do gymnastics, it’s not her ass I watch, it’s the way her hips move. There is always more movement to her hips than probably needed, but fuck if I don’t want to gobble her up. Start behind her knee, nibble right up one thigh, lick the curve of her ass, and then take a bite out of her hip before I do it to the other side. I wonder if she still wears that almond butter lotion. I love how it made sliding my nose along her skin so smooth. And the smell? Ahfuckbuddy, it was to die for.
I shift awkwardly, trying to give myself some space while making sure Quinn doesn’t see my full-ass hard-on. Man, Cameron does it for me. Badly. I go to Instagram to look at her content. She did a photo dump of her in my jersey with the caption, Eyes on #61. I smirk to myself as my cock throbs. Oh, what I’d give to see that girl in my bedroom with just my sweater on. My number moving across that ass and my name along her back. Fuck, I gotta go give myself some relief.
