Chapter 5
Bo
“Bo, we had a system!” On his knees, Cam searches through my closet. After we cleaned up, we each had one more drink before I helped my drunk friend stumble into my room where he’s now frantically trying to find his box set of Dragon Ball.
I could tell him we can just get Crunchyroll, but Cam has a thing about physical media, and I’m not in the mood to hear his whole rant on streaming and owning the rights to his favorite shows.
Besides, I get to look at his ass while he’s on all fours searching.
A win is a win.
“I think it’s deeper in the closet.”
His glassy gaze whips back to me.
“Are you checking out my ass?”
“No!” Absolutely. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“Well, you should. I work very hard on it.” He goes back to searching while I go back to staring.
He is so fucking right. The fabric of his briefs is practically painted along the curve of his cheeks.
Cam is gorgeous, I know this, and I also know that if he were into guys, I would still have no fucking chance.
Cam is tall, six foot, and made of pure steel.
The muscles in his arms flex as he rummages through the mess in my closet, and the swell of his perfect ass is hypnotizing.
My gaze travels down his thick muscled thighs, all the way down to his shapely calves. He’s wearing black socks, a pair of briefs, and nothing else now, and he has an unfinished tattoo on his back—an outline of a bear. It looks badass too.
What no one would know just by looking at it is that he whined like a fucking baby getting it.
I thought the tattoo artist was going to throw him out.
She was so unimpressed, and each time she asked him if he needed a break he refused.
He was determined, bitching and all, to get it done.
It’s just the outline of the creature and some minor detailing because he didn’t want to go back to get it finished.
It’s good, though. Her outline pops against his skin.
“Can you stop objectifying me and help?!” he slurs, swaying a bit.
Show’s over, I guess. I drop to my knees beside him. I’m feeling it too. I don’t really drink at all, and I’m not sure what was in those, but it’s making my head light and happy. Thankfully Cam switched to water. “Let me help you find the hot Dragon Ball guys.”
“They’re not hot. They’re warriors!” He glares.
“Hard disagree. Have you seen Goku’s abs? Would love to taste his senzu beans.”
Cam’s face morphs with disgust, staring at me as if I have three heads. “No more alcohol for you.” He goes back to the mess, and yeah, I should probably learn to actually put things away instead of shoving everything I don’t want to deal with in here.
Most of Cam’s things are in this room, and a lot are in the closet. Cam and I never officially moved in together, but most of his things are here, and no matter what, they never seem to leave. It’s like he leaves pieces of himself here for me to find. “This closet is a mess,” he grumbles.
Taking a deep breath, I watch Cam, who’s now elbow deep in the danger zone. “It’s mostly your shit.”
“I can’t find anything. You sure they’re in here?
” I have been meaning to put some shelves up.
There are things Cam always leaves here no matter where he lives—I know he’s embarrassed about his anime figure collection.
I don’t know which number ex told him it was childish, but that’s stupid.
They’re collectible, and Cam loves the things.
Would they judge him if he liked sports and collected that memorabilia? Probably not.
That’s why I let him keep stuff here. I’d hate for him to throw it away just because someone he’s with thought it was lame.
It’s a deep closet, and yeah, it could use a bit of organizing.
Putting up a shelf would mean power tools, though, and I know I’d fuck it up.
I looked it up and read something about finding studs, and I don’t know what the hell that means.
What the hell is a stud? What do they even do?
Maybe Cam knows . . . although Cam with power tools seems frightening.
I know if I asked he’d say some shit like, “I got your stud right here,” while pointing to himself.
“We gotta work out a system. Next day off we’re going through this mess.” He looks over at me, hands on his knees and sitting back on his thighs. Gorgeous muscled thighs. Fuck he’s beautiful. “Eyes up here, Bo?”
I blink and look up at him. “Do you know what a stud is?” Cam’s grin spreads wide on his handsome face. Yep. Just what I thought. “Not you, jackass. Like, in the wall, and how to find it.”
“You need a stud thingy.”
“A stud thingy?” Great.
“It goes beep beep beep, or I’m assuming it does. When, you know, it finds a stud. Maybe it doesn’t beep. How would you know, though, if it finds one? Maybe it lights up. When, you know, it finds the stud.”
“To then do what?”
Cam’s thick brows pinch. “When, you know, it finds a stud, you do the thing you need to do when you find it.”
“And what’s that Cam?”
“Obviously . . . um . . . the thing you needed to find it for.”
“Right, well, once we figure out just what that is, I’m going to build you a shelf so we actually have a spot to put your things.”
“You don’t have to. They’re kind of childish, no?”
“You collect them. They’re not childish.”
“They’re toys,” he says softly
“When I called them toys it was a problem.” I see the war in his eyes.
I just want to know what she said to him, but I’m starting to suspect what it was.
“You collect things, Cam, it’s cool. You have an awesome collection.
” I know it’s been a while since he got himself a new one too.
I hate how he tries to mold himself to fit others.
We haven’t discussed living or sleeping arrangements, but I don’t want him on the couch; it’s too small. I hate sleeping on my couch too. It freaks me out for some reason. I only really sleep well in my bed, in the comfort of my own room.
Cam moved out of his place when he moved in with Siena, and he makes good money, but I’ve realized I don’t want him to leave. Not yet.
Give it time and another girl will snag his attention and take him from me anyway.
For now, I’ll enjoy this. “If you want to stay, I mean.”
“I haven’t really thought that far ahead yet. I can look tomorrow, but—”
“No. No, I mean . . . uh, no. If you want. I was just asking. I don’t mind you staying.”
“Well, I do mind the mess.”
“Move.” I push him aside, and he falls back as I move to get in front of him, digging into the clothes.
There are instruments in here . . . old comic books .
. . a huge bin of Cam’s figurines that he hasn’t taken with him anywhere.
Yes, I need a shelf. I need to figure out what a stud is and why it’s important to find, and then build a shelf for all his shit.
There’s a pile of clothes . . . and finally I find the small bin of Cam’s DVDs, pulling it out and sitting back, then realizing that Cam is still right there and I’m practically sitting in his lap.
I turn my head to look at him. “Found it.” I swallow.
His arms circle me, opening the bin, and heat from his body soaks into mine.
I can feel his chest rising and falling—it feels twenty degrees hotter inside the cocoon of his arms. “There we go.” He smiles then looks down at me.
My gaze flicks to his lips, and like a reaction, his tongue darts out to lick the seam.
Full lips, pink tongue, and wicked thoughts.
Okay, shit, I need air. I get up abruptly, nearly knocking him over, and get onto my bed. I’m seriously having second thoughts about the cuddling part as Cam gets off the floor and puts his DVD on. “We will need to organize; I don’t know how you live when I’m not around,” he says.
“Just fine, thank you.” In fact, it’s very much out of sight out of mind when he’s not here.
Cam drops down beside me, pulling me into his arms. I wish he’d put a damn shirt on!
I watch the way sadness creeps back into his eyes as he chooses “play all” in marathon mode.
“She said I was boring and immature. That I just want to sit at home and watch anime—no! She called them cartoons, Bobo. The nerve.” I hate her.
“The worst part is, she was wearing his shirt. She was just waiting for me to get my shit so she could go back to her happy life. She wanted me gone.”
This is the worst part of our friendship. I want to grab him and tell him how much I love him. How much better it could be if he’d give me a chance. Cam likes women, though, and he’s never given me any reason to believe he might be queer.
“You aren’t boring, Cam, you’re a homebody. Nothing wrong with that.” He looks down with his chin resting on his clavicle. He still won’t meet my eyes. I take him in, and for the millionth time I wonder how anyone could just walk away from him.
His soft brown skin is sculpted and defined with muscles he works so damn hard for, and his outie belly button makes me smile. That smile wipes clean as my eyes trace the path of dark hair on his abdomen as it dips beneath his briefs.
I look away, my head resting against his chest feeling the soft rise and fall of his breaths. “I always have fun when it’s us,” I whisper.
His chin lifts to look at me. “Yeah?” I nod. “Bowen—”
“Shh, my hot husbando is on.” I laugh at the growl rumbling in his chest, and Cam brings the blanket over us, the one his grandmother knitted him, and tucks it in at his side.
I lay my head against his shoulder before settling against him like I’ve done so many times before.
I dare—just a touch—sliding my hand across his stomach and feeling his muscles contract under my palm.