24. Cam
CHAPTER 24
CAM
“CALL ME” - BLONDIE
I sling off my purse, letting it drop in the entryway of our apartment as I bend to untie my boots. My feet hurt so bad from standing the last three days, they may never recover. You would think I would be used to it by now, but no matter the shoes, the ache never goes away.
“Hey, you’re home. How did the trials end up?” Lo twists herself like a pretzel, untangling herself from Smith on the couch.
“Great. I think I passed, but Daveed will give us the final word tomorrow.” I step gingerly, wincing at my protesting big toe, as I walk into the kitchen and peer into the fridge.
“There’s a surprise in there for you, top shelf,” Smith says, proceeding to tickle Lo and kiss her neck. They are disgusting.
I pull out a clear plastic Tupperware that has a yellow sticky note on top.
I spent three hours on the phone with my mom to make this. Hope you enjoy it, Wright!
-XoXo- Will
He made me dinner? I open the top and see his mom’s famous chicken pot pie waiting inside. The smell wafts to my nose, comforting me; it’s almost like I’m home. Popping the container in the microwave for a minute, I grab a fork, a big glass of water, and two chocolate stars for dessert. When I get to my room to enjoy my dinner in bed with some trash TV, I text him.
Cam
You made me dinner, Rambo?
Will
I was worried you didn’t get to eat all day, don’t make it a big deal, Wright.
Cam
It’s sweet. It’s almost like I should give you a reward for being so nice.
Will
I mean . . . I could think of something
Cam
I said almost, Rambo.
I’m laughing to myself about riling him up when my phone starts ringing with a FaceTime call. I pick it up, mid-bite. “Don judge me for eating.” My mouth is full in a very unattractive way.
“I’m glad you like it. You do like it, right?” Will shifts, and I can see he’s lying in bed, shirtless. I swallow and grab my water, taking a big gulp to stop myself from panting.
“It’s delicious, seriously, thank you. I probably would have been eating half a bag of stale cheese puffs without it.” I set the Tupperware down on my nightstand, shifting lower into my pillows to talk to him before I finish my meal.
“How was your day?” He’s looking at me so intently, those bright blue eyes peering into my soul.
“It was good, finished up the trials and then just normal assistant work after that. How was yours?”
“Better now, just therapy and work. Did you pass?” He moves so he’s lying on his side, propping the phone up on something, who knows what. Did he say therapy?
“I don’t know yet. I think so, but Daveed will do his final assessment tomorrow. I’m a little nervous. Did you say therapy? What kind?” I shrug, shifting to sit up and rub my feet with my free hand. They hurt so bad, but I want to know more about what Will decided to casually mention.
“What are you doing? You moved, not that I’m complaining about the view.” I look at the small picture on my phone that reflects back to me what he sees—my silky sleep dress has creeped up my thighs, revealing a hint of panties and a lot of leg on the screen. Whoops.
“Shit, sorry. I was trying to rub my feet with my free hand. They hurt so bad from all the standing. By the end of the week, I’m usually toast. You can’t distract me from the comment, Rambo. What therapy?” I move the phone, propping it against a pillow, strictly positioned on my face.
“Do not apologize, you’re the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen. I’m irrationally jealous of a silk pair of panties, for God’s sake.” He shakes his head, bristling at his own admission.
“Why would you be jealous?” I’m playing coy. I know what he meant, but I still don’t mind hearing it.
“I wish I was that silk pair of panties, so I could be buried in you.”
“Oh . . . um. . . wait, what are you doing?” I can tell by the flexing muscles in his left arm that it’s not something sweet or innocent, and at the same time, the thought of him seeing me for two seconds and having to touch himself—well, it’s fucking hot.
“You know what I’m doing, Wright. Do you want me to stop?”
“Erm.” My cheeks heat, turning my face three shades of pink. I’m not usually so shy about these things, but it’s different with him. There’s more at stake.
“I’m not going to apologize, Wright. You’re beautiful, and since we shared that kiss, you’re all I can think about, all I dream about. But I won’t do it with you here if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“Oh . . . um, I mean I can’t stop thinking about you either. I just, I’ve never done that. On the phone, I mean, obviously.” Why am I so nervous? I’m sweating and panicky, yet there’s an ache down below that I need to fulfill.
“Do you want to? You don’t have to, but obviously, I’m in if you are.” He smirks with his adorable lopsided grin, like he didn’t just get caught pleasuring himself with me on the phone.
“We could, we could try. I’m not sure I know how this is supposed to go.” I lie back further into the pillows, sliding my hand down my belly to touch myself.
“Tell me what you’re doing. Tell me how it feels.” Will’s eyes search mine, the dark lusty pools leaving me breathless.
“I’m touching myself, rubbing tiny circles around my, oh...it feels so good, Rambo.” He moves the phone so I have a view of him stroking his beautiful cock. It’s long and thick, so hard I can see the veins jutting out as it stretches toward his belly.
“Are you wet for me, Wright?”
“I-I’m soaked.” I practically pant the words around soft moans. I don’t even care if Lo and Smith hear me, lord knows it’s payback at this point.
“Good girl, you’re such a good fucking girl.” His praise and dirty mouth send both of us over the edge. I come so hard I think I scream. I for sure can’t see straight.
“That was . . . it was incredible. I’m embarrassed to admit I’ve been dreaming about that for years,” Will says, with a shy smile on his face.
“I shouldn’t tell you this either but uh, I’ve had these dreams about—” I stop, instantly regretting that I’m stating this out loud. “—about you. After all the bad dates I’ve been on.” My cheeks turn bright red at the admission. Why did I tell him that?
Making things even more awkward, Will tells me to hold on a second, walking away from his phone to presumably clean himself up. I do the same, jogging into my bathroom to wash my hands, wipe off, and panic a little hoping he wasn’t paying attention, before snuggling back into my bed.
“As distracting and satisfying as that was, I still want you to answer my question.” I raise an eyebrow at him as I attempt to steer the conversation away from my admission. I’m trying to be serious while also quickly falling under the mesmerizing spell that is his strong jawline, straight nose, and those fucking blue eyes.
“Uh...okay. I-I’m not really sure where to start, but I’ve been seeing Tina for a while. She helps me with some mental health stuff.” He looks away, almost like he’s ashamed to tell me.
“Will. Look at me.” Will turns his phone back to his face and I beg him with my eyes to really listen to what I have to say. “I’m proud of you for getting help. I talk to someone too. And I’m not going to force you to tell me why, not until you’re ready. But you need to know I get it, I understand, no judgment.”
I don’t know if it’s because of what we just did together or if it’s because he’s just Will and I will always care about him, but I mean the words. I don’t want him to tell me what’s going on until he’s ready. Maybe because I’m not ready to tell him my shit, or maybe because I know I will get invested and I don’t fully believe he’s going to stay this time.
“I promise I will tell you at some point. I just don’t think it should be over the phone.” He pulls his blanket up higher on his chest, a big yawn sneaking out.
“I understand, it’s okay, I promise. You are tired, though, and I need to finish this delicious dinner my boyfriend made me. Talk tomorrow?” I grab my dinner to show him there is still a hearty portion left and I plan to eat every bite.
“Your boyfriend ? Shit. I’m going to get my ass kicked if he finds out what we just did, Wright.” Will smiles wide, flashing all his pearly whites and making me giggle. “Come over for a date tomorrow, after work.”
It’s not a question, more of a command. But I already can’t say no to him, and that scares the living shit out of me. “Okay, Rambo. Good night.”
“Good night, Wright.”
We hang up and I attempt to take a bite of my dinner before slinking back down into my pillows. It really is delicious, but I’m suddenly not hungry. A date at his apartment comes with all sorts of strings: What if he doesn’t like what he sees if things go in the direction we took tonight? What if he leaves or ends it? I pull a pillow over my head and scream into it. I have a long, sleepless night of overthinking ahead of me.