Chapter 21
Twenty-One
Logan
“What was the bet for?”
Cam’s gaze lifts from where he’s studying for his history class, only to find me staring down at where he’s sprawled out on the other side of my bed. A frown pulls his lips down, and he shifts his weight, turning to face me.
“What are you talking about?”
I purse my lips before elaborating. “Earlier this year. When I walked in, and the video and everything.”
There’s a beat of silence before understanding lights up his eyes—along with amusement—and his lips form a tight line as he tries to keep from laughing.
Tries and fails. Miserably.
“What the hell made you think of that?” he asks once he composes himself.
Well, that’d be because I’ve spent the past hour thinking about what we did on FaceTime earlier this week—and the way he teased about the video. But I’m sure as hell not planning to admit it, seeing as I also am meant to be studying right now, not fixating on sexy time.
Of course, when I don’t answer right away, Camden must put two and two together, because his eyes narrow on me, only to pop wide open again.
“Oh my God. Are you hoping for a repeat performance? Because lemme tell you, Little Reed, I’ve been looking for a reason to work on my twerking.”
I notice the heat flooding my cheeks at being so transparent, but I roll my eyes and play it off.
“Can you just answer the question?”
For about half a second, he looks like he wants to fight me on it—probably just to tease and get under my skin. But thankfully, in the end, he concedes and tells me what I want to know.
“Holden bet me that I couldn’t go through the first week of classes without trolling the apps and wind up sleeping with someone,” he admits, tongue in cheek. “And the terms were, if I couldn’t, then I had to dance naked on a video call for each person I did bring home.”
It’s my turn to get bug-eyed after doing the quick math in my head. It may have been a while ago, but I distinctly remember more than one person coming through his door that week.
“Wait, so you did it more than once?”
He nods, grimacing, while holding up three fingers. Which, of course, only has my eyes getting bigger with shock. But, the thing is, I don’t remember seeing more than one person on that video call, and I definitely don’t recall another time he held a performance of his one-man show of nude dancing.
As if peering into my head, Cam murmurs, “I made sure you weren’t home the other two times, seeing how bad the first time went.
It was actually the second girl who released the video.
Turns out the guy I brought home that week was her brother.
” A pained, slightly embarrassed smile pulls at his lips when he adds, “Apparently he was telling her about the whole bet and my superior dancing abilities, only for her to have a similar story. They compared notes, she got pissed, confronted me about it, and…well, here we are.”
Well, I’ll be damned.
I’d always wondered how I didn’t wind up in the video, but I guess I assumed I was just cut out of it.
Though, if it was an act of revenge like he’s saying, I’m sure it would’ve gotten a lot more views with me barging in, considering it’d look like the start of some bad porno I can just see the title of: Bi Twink Walks in on Jock Roommate’s Twerk and Jerk.
I shove the thought away with a grimace, and shake my head.
“I’m sorry, Cam. It was shitty of her to post it, no matter how mad she was.”
He shrugs. “I mean, it is what it is at this point. And we wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t happened, you know? No video, no fake boyfriend.”
“Yeah, true,” I reply, though my mind catches on the word fake.
We haven’t exactly talked about what happened in New York, or all the following nights since returning home. Not the smartest move in the world, but for the time being, I’m okay living in the bubble. Even if it’s just for a little while longer.
Besides, we know where we stand. I think.
I like him, he likes me, even if we haven’t said it in so many words. We’re attracted to each other, that’s damn obvious. And this is by far the best sex I’ve ever had, despite having only stuck to foreplay—though, that part…maybe we should talk about.
With the way he was talking after his away game against Fall River, I’d have thought he’d come home and we’d go to town before he could drop his duffle on the floor. Especially with that whole “post-win-celebratory-fuck” thing that athletes do. But, boy, was I wrong.
Instead, he got home the following morning, crawled into bed with me, and fell asleep before I could so much as ask him how the trip home was.
That was a week ago now, and there’s been absolutely no mention of sex since.
It got to the point where, earlier this morning, I had to go check my recent calls because I was starting to think the FaceTime was a figment of my imagination. Or maybe a really dirty sex dream.
I honestly don’t know if I was more or less disappointed when I realized it wasn’t.
My teeth sink into my tongue, and I glance at him to find he’s gone back to his reading. Before I can chicken out, I ask the question that’s really been racking my brain all week.
“Am I doing something wrong?”
It comes out so soft, it’s a wonder he even hears it. He does, though, and those sapphire eyes find me again, possibly even more confused than they were with my previous, seemingly random question.
“What do you mean?”
“You haven’t asked to have sex.”
It comes out more blunt than I intended, thanks to my nerves, and it has Cam taking notice immediately. He closes his laptop and sits up beside me, arching a brow.
“Uh, Lo, if we haven’t been having sex, then what would you call last night?”
My cheeks heat, as does my stomach, vividly remembering the sixty-nining session we had after a playful argument about who got to suck the other’s dick first. It was by far the hottest encounter we’ve had to date, especially with those damn whimpers when I pushed a couple fingers inside him, but I want more.
“I mean anal sex.”
He’s quiet for a moment, his gaze pensively tracing over my face before asking, “Do you want me to ask you for that?”
“No. Yes.”
Fuck.
I blow out a deep breath in an attempt to collect my thoughts, only to settle on, “I don’t know.”
To his credit, Cam doesn’t laugh at my blundering. Instead, he slides his hand over top of mine and whispers, “Okay. Can you try to explain for me?”
I wish I knew how.
I just know I’m the only person he can sleep with, thanks to this deal.
Not that I’d want him sleeping with anyone else, but the point is, here I am, very clearly open to the idea and willing to put out, yet he hasn’t given me any indication toward it.
At all. It’s breeding this insecurity in my mind that’s driving me insane.
“I guess I don’t understand why you haven’t tried. Like, after everything we talked about on FaceTime last week…”
A brief flicker of understanding softens his gaze, and a wry little smile pulls up one side of his mouth.
“Honestly, I wasn’t sure if it was just dirty talk for you.
You know, setting a scene for us to get off, because, when we were in New York, you told me we weren’t having sex.
” He pauses before quickly adding, “Which I was and still am okay with, by the way. I meant it when I said we could go at whatever pace you want.”
He does have a point—I said no sex then, and I also said it from the jump too. He’s followed every rule I put in place, and I’m the one who changed things without warning. I can’t exactly fault him for his confusion.
“No, uh. I want to if you do. I just…wasn’t sure if you did. With me, I mean.”
I feel my face heat as I stumble through my thoughts some more because, Jesus Christ, I sound like a dolt. Camden doesn’t seem to care, though. He’s still looking at me with the utmost patience and concern while quietly searching for his own response.
“I do want to, Lo. God, I fucking do. I just…” He trails off, an uncomfortable laugh leaving him before he glances away. “Fuck, this is going to make me sound so lame, but… I’ve never done something like this before. Real, fake, or in between.”
From his reputation alone, I’d already made this assumption. And while I’m not planning to touch on the validity of this relationship right now, part of me wonders if that’s why he hasn’t pushed any further.
“I kinda figured, but you’ve always been so quick to bring people home—and I’m not judging you for it or anything,” I quickly rush out, feeling my cheeks heat. “But knowing that, having seen it firsthand, I couldn’t understand why…”
I trail off, not being able to say the last few words without wanting to vomit.
Why you’re treating me differently.
Cam’s fingers wrap around my thigh, and he squeezes it gently. The heat of his palm through my sweats does that magical thing, grounding me instead of allowing me to spiral some more, and I’m grateful.
“I may have a reputation now, but it wasn’t always like that,” he admits softly. “I didn’t even swipe my V-card until my freshman year at Leighton.”
I blink a couple times, processing the information he’s just given me that doesn’t even seem plausible. Because there’s no way I lost my virginity at a younger age than Camden did.
“How the— What?”
“I wasn’t exactly…desirable back in high school,” he says slowly, picking at the stitching on my comforter.
“I may have looked the same—minus like twenty pounds of muscle—but everyone there just thought I was this idiot jockhead who didn’t know how to read, you know?
Add in that my general personality is…well, what it is, and it didn’t really help matters.
” He pauses and offers a little shrug. “Then I came here, and I finally got to start over as just Camden: a typical, goofy goalie who sometimes makes really dumb choices that get me in trouble. But making myself a joke felt better than the alternative. I’d much rather have everyone laughing with me instead of at me. ”