Cameron #2
Cassie’s eyes grow a bit wide, and she looks around us nervously. “Uh, why?”
“Just answer me, please.” I can hear my own desperation as reality sets in. As I start to understand.
“Well… yes. We’ve been messaging on Insta,” she confesses. “How did you know?”
“How else would he have known about the game?” I counter.
“He was there? Is he here now?” Her searching gaze intensifies, and she looks around us wildly.
I grip her shoulders, regaining her attention.
“No, he’s not here now,” I tell her. “But he was at the game. I saw him.”
Or… was it him? I mean, technically, it could have been the body double. Sure, I only see it at night, but the sun had surely set by the end of the game.
“Oh my god,” Cassie whispers, no longer bothering to look at me. “He came to see me! Cam, I know you have reservations about us getting together, but it’s happening!” Her eyes snap up to meet mine, suddenly pleading. “Support me, please?”
My mouth goes dry. At the game, he was not looking at her, but rather, right at me. And yes, I love my best friend, but she can have any guy she wants. Which means she can leave mine alone.
Or, well, not mine. Not anymore.
And the look she’s leveling at me makes me feel extremely guilty as I say, “I’m sorry, Cas. But I can’t support that.”
I can’t. Not when it means seeing them together; not if it’s going to kill me, and it most definitely will.
Disappointment clouds Cassie’s features, and she upturns her nose as she looks away, crossing her arms.
“That’s sad, Cameron,” she says. “I’m your best friend. Don’t you want me to be happy?”
“Of course I do!” I reply defensively. “But not… not with him.”
I shouldn’t have said that. The knowing look she gives me in response tells me she knows exactly what I mean.
“I’m going in,” she grits out, turning on her heel and walking back inside.
Fuck. I think I may have just unintentionally come out to my best friend. I stare up at the stars, breathing heavily as I try to calm my racing heart.
Cassie knows I like Atticus. Cassie and Atticus have been talking. There are so many negative emotions swirling inside of me that I can’t even think, can’t even move.
How do I handle this? I just decided to say fuck you to Atticus and allow his alter ego to manhandle me, and suddenly I’m drawn back in, all because of my own jealousy.
The truth is, I have no claim over Atticus. Not anymore. So Cassie can do as she pleases.
I think I need to go home. I’m not in the mood to party.
But as I finally get the nerve to move toward the door, a hand shoots out from the shadows, yanking me behind a tool shed just out of reach of the porch light.
A loud shriek leaves me, but before it can alert anyone who might hear it over the music, a palm is roughly shoved against my lips.
And with my back pinned to the tin shed, my body heaving, I stare up into familiar hazel eyes as they glare down at me.
“Cameron,” Atticus purrs.
“What?” I ask, dazed at his appearance, though the word isn’t understandable from behind his palm.
“You look shocked to see me.” He grins, but it’s a twisted grin full of heat and fury.
Finally, he removes his hand. My panting breath resonates around as I gather myself.
“B-but… why are you…” I don’t finish. I can’t.
Instead, I drop my eyes to his hands, searching for those purple hues that tell me, alongside his eyes, who exactly it is I’m being faced with.
“I saw your game. You looked… distracted there toward the end,” Atticus mocks, completely ignoring my previous attempt at a question.
And now I’m angry. He’s just going to show up here and startle me? For what? And on top of that, he’s making fun of me?!
“Can I help you, Atticus?” I sneer, letting him see my rage. “I thought I was to leave you alone.”
Atticus appears to find my anger amusing, as if I’m a little kitten bearing its claws.
“That was before you antagonized me, sweetheart,” he murmurs through his smirk.
“Don’t call me that,” I snap. “And I did no such thing.”
“Really?” he pries. “Game on is what you said, isn’t it?”
My eyes widen. Oh, shit. He’s here because of my message a few days ago… because I pretended not to recognize his number and all but told him to fuck himself.
And he looks far too happy about being here, confronting me about it.
On the plus side, it really is him, with his big hazel eyes and fingers without discoloration.
I check again just to make sure.
“What?” Atticus asks, lifting his hand in front of my face. “Those eyes of yours are begging for me to touch you.”
“Don’t,” I plead, my eyes snapping up to meet his. “Don’t touch me.”
“Why not?” Atticus tilts his head curiously. “You love it when I touch you. It’s the only honest thing about you.”
“Fuck you,” I seethe, shoving at his chest.
But I don’t really mean it, so he’s easily able to stay exactly where he is, pushed up against me.
“Feisty,” he mumbles. “But okay. If you wish.”
“What?”
“You just asked me to fuck you. So I will.”
“No,” I rush out. “I said fuck you. That’s different.”
Atticus hums, his hand falling from in front of my face to grip me through my jeans. “So you don’t want it?”
I’m hardening beneath his fingers fast, embarrassingly so, but I hold onto my anger. I fucking feast on it.
“If you’re so insistent on getting your dick wet, go fuck Cassie. She’d love that. Leave me alone.” I regret the words as soon as they escape me, hoping he’ll decline.
“Cassie?” Atticus says softly. “Your friend?”
“Who else?” I snap.
“Wow, Cam, you’re really angry.” Atticus’s fist tightens around me, causing a small groan to slip from between my lips. “But I don’t want Cassie. Get that out of your head.”
“T-then why—”
“Was I messaging her?” he interrupts, and I realize he heard our entire fucking conversation. “Because I needed to know where you’d be. Where to find you.”
You already know where to find me, moron, I think to myself. But then again, no, he doesn’t. Only his body double does.
“Well, you’ve found me,” I reply weakly, all of my fight draining faster than I can comprehend the reason. “Now what?”