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“Cam.”
“Huh? Yeah, they know you’re staying with me.”
“That’s not what I asked.” He’s too distracted with the damn song. Whatever. I shake my head and lean back in the passenger seat, staring out the window and watching the mostly bare trees go by. “Why did you invite me?”
“I invited you...” His gaze captures mine for a moment, and I’m hanging on his words.Tell me we’re more.His stare dissipates, and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “...Because I want to watch you eat a whole ass turkey leg.”
I lean back in my seat, staring out the window. The mood in the car turns stale. I want him to be serious with me for one second. “Well, prepare to be disappointed.”
“If you’re not hungry for turkey, I've got another suggestion...”
“I’m scared to ask.” My voice is flat.
He places his hand on my thigh, and I cross my arms. “If you gobble me tonight, I promise you’ll wobble tomorrow.”
This is all you’ll ever be to him. Either shut down your feelings or walk away before you get hurt.I choose the former and relinquish hope, so we can fall into our usual banter.
“You’re the worst.”
“I have to tell you something.” He reluctantly drags his hand away and places it on the steering wheel. A shred of anticipation rises within me. “Jordan... I’mfowl-ingfor you.”
Even though it’s not intentional, the joke cuts deep. I sweep aside my foolish wishes.
I rattle my locked door handle. “Would you mind pulling over and letting me out of this turkey pun nightmare?”
“They say tying the legs together keeps everything moist.”
I groan. “Is there a safeword for this conversation?”
His palm lands on my thigh again, and this time he squeezes and gropes until I’m fidgeting in my seat, pressing my legs together.
I turn away and brush him off. “I’m going to close my eyes for a bit.”
Being friends is better than being nothing because Cam is the truest friend I’ve ever had. We have fun together, share the same humor, even enjoy the same food. My attraction to him is ameproblem, one I can fix.
I mentally tick off reasons we wouldn’t be good together... It would jeopardize our friendship. He travels a lot. He can be possessive and bossy. He’s probably a better friend than a boyfriend. He snores sometimes. He says things he doesn’t mean—which brings me to the number one reason:he doesn’t like me that way.
We’re staying at his parents for the weekend, which seems silly since they live less than an hour away. And especially because he’ll be gone all day tomorrow for a home game. Apparently, he always spends Thanksgiving weekend with them, game or not. Which means so do I.
Monday he’ll fly out and be gone for back-to-back games in Canada. He’s arranged for me to stay with Micky. I’m tiring of being babysat every time he’s out of town. After he gets back, there’s supposed to be somebody new starting at night to watch the house. I don’t see how this living arrangement even makes sense anymore.
Without a job or something to do during the day, I’m getting bored. I thought I’d be fine with my books, but even that’s getting old. I’d like to find something I’m passionate about. I enjoyed being a contract manager, but it wasn’t a fulfilling career, by any means.I want to make a difference in someone’s life.Like how Camden has Safehouse. Maybe I should start a charity or philanthropic organization.
“We’ll be there in a couple minutes,” he says, snapping me out of my daydreaming.
I sit up in my seat, adjusting the cuffs on my sweater and smoothing my hair.
“You look fine. Stop messing with your outfit. My parents don’t care about that stuff, I promise.”
“I’m not messing with my outfit.”
“Okay.”
We pull up to a house on the steep river bluff, it’s close in size to the one I grew up in, but that’s the only similarity. Where my parents’ house is more traditional with classic colonial columns and symmetrical windows. His parents’ is welcoming with warm cedar shakes and round dormer windows. It’s massive but nestled in pine trees gives it a cottage appeal.
“Did you grow up here?” I imagine a young Camden.
“Yeah,” he says, as we open our car doors and get out. “We’re staying in the boathouse out back.”
