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"You're terrifying, you know that?"
"I know. You're welcome. Now, leave me alone. I have things to do if you're going to try to earn her forgiveness. Go annoy someone else for a little while."
"You called me," I remind her.
"What's that? You're going to annoy someone else? Okay, then. Bye!" she shouts and then hangs up on me.
I need better friends. All of mine are mean to me.
I stare at my phone for a minute, hoping she changes her mind and sends me Camila's phone number. But she doesn't. I'm starting a petition to make her take anger management classes. Torturing us really shouldn't be something she enjoys doing so much. It's cruel and unusual. I mean, yeah, we mostly deserve it, but there's no way I'm telling her that.
I can't wait until Kris gets his head out of his ass and claims his girl. She needs someone to soften her up.
"Get off my phone,dude," I growl at Schrödinger, picking his fat ass up and moving him off the arm of the couch. He's supposed to be on a diet, but I'm pretty sure he was a drama nerd in a past life. As soon as his bowl goes empty, he acts like he's dying.
He gives me a disgruntled meow and then starts licking his nuts. Which is cat for fuck off, I guess. He's kind of a dick for a cat. He just showed up one day and never left. Apparently, it's a popular con amongst the cat population. They just show up and you start feeding them and the next thing you know, you're cuddling with a cat in your king-sized bed, and he's hogging all the covers.
I'm pretty sure they're Jedi Masters.
"Hello?"
"Gray?"
"Camila," I say, grinning like an idiot. We're leaving for Chicago in a few hours, and I'd resigned myself to the fact that I wasn't going to hear from her before we left. Being wrong doesn't suck. I haven't stopped thinking about her all day.
Either being celibate has done a number on my dick, or he's really into Camila. He keeps popping up and demanding attention. I've already jerked off four times.
"Hi," she mumbles and then huffs out an adorable breath. "I talked to Kelsey."
"You did?" Maybe I won't start that petition after all.
"I did," she confirms. "You're free Friday and Saturday?"
"Yes." Is it wrong to touch my dick again while I'm on the phone with her? Probably. Is it going to stop me? No. Her voice is sexy as hell. I squeeze myself through my sweats, imagining her standing in front of me in that sexy pant suit she was wearing this morning. I'd like to strip it off her with my teeth and lick every inch of skin I unveil. Maybe I shouldn't say that out loud though. Or ask if she's still wearing it.
"Good. I'm sending you a list of things you'll need on Friday. Meet me at the arena at seven in the morning," she says, rushing through it like she's trying to finish this conversation as quickly as humanly possible. I hear the little tremor in her voice though. She's nervous.
Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
I'm not sure, so I settle on a good thing. She wouldn't be nervous to talk to me if she didn't like me at least a little bit, right?
"You'll be gone until Saturday evening."
"We're going somewhere overnight?"
Fuck yeah. This is getting better and better.
"You are," she says. "That list should be coming through now."
She no more says it and my phone buzzes. I pull it away from my ear long enough to glance over the text. Like she said, it's a list.
"Comfortable clothes, sturdy boots, a flask. A compass? Warm socks?" My eyes grow wider the further down the list I go. This does not sound like a sexy overnight trip with my voluptuous publicist. It sounds like camping. Which, frankly, sounds like the ninth circle of hell.
"You're volunteering with the Boy Scouts."
"What? Why the Boy Scouts?"
"You said you used to be a Scout," she says.
