6. Cameron
SIX
cameron
I watch Lenore—Lenni, that is—roll her eyes at me and walk off. And I’m officially baffled. She hates me.
Without Reeve around, I thought if I could get her to look at me for more than a couple seconds, I’d be able to read her. Maybe she did forget me. Yeah, I’d committed the steely blue-gray of her eyes to memory, but my face might’ve passed right through her, instantly forgotten after that summer night. But when she looked at me today, that wasn’t indifference in her gaze.
Now Kira’s cost me my chance to ask Lenni why she acts like the night we met never happened. “What is it?” I ask, trying to contain my irritation.
Kira glances at a departing Lenni. “Can we talk?” The question is only a formality because everything she asks for, I give her, and just because we’re not together anymore doesn’t mean that’s changed. She closes her long fingers around my arm, and we start down the hallway.
“So what’s up?” I ask.
“First of all, Cameron, how are you?”
My jaw tenses. “Come on, Kir, don’t stand on ceremony. What do you want to talk about?”
She drops the painted-on pleasant expression. “Fine. I wanted to tell you I’m dating someone.”
I wait for a stab of jealousy, but nothing comes. “Ok. Thanks for letting me know.” I try to sound serious so she doesn’t realize I don’t care who she’s started fucking.
“Alex Novik,” she offers, not that I asked. She’s watching me so I nod because there’s nothing to say. This is the least surprising news she could have given me. Alex Novik is one of the dudes in her tightly controlled circle of rich European kids and the heir to some fortune. Like all of them. I look up ahead for any sign of Lenni, but she’s long gone.
“Are you all right with that?” Kira asks insistently, and I realize she wants some kind of reaction from me.
“If you’re happy with him, then yeah, of course I am.”
I can tell by her silence she’s unsatisfied with my answer. Kira was never very emotional and what she felt she always said bluntly, so I’m not sure what she expects from me now. But I can guess what she’s thinking: Did we ever love each other?
After she broke up with me, I spent about a day on the same question. When you love someone, a breakup is supposed to hurt. Right? And when the person you love starts dating someone new, you’re supposed to be jealous. And we both know I’m not.
Outside the building, I pull her off to the side. “Thanks for telling me, but you don’t need to worry. I’m glad you’re living your life. As long as he’s good to you?—”
“He is,” she interrupts, lifting her chin.
“Good, Kir. You deserve someone who knows how to make you happy.” I lean in to kiss her on the cheek. Her scent is familiar, but it stirs nothing inside me. “So I’ll see you around.” Total lie. Beyond attending classes, Kir and her friends have zero involvement in campus life.
I walk to my next class, remembering the relief I’d felt when Kira first told me we were done. Not because I was unhappy, but with the relationship over, I could put a check mark on it. I excelled at being the boyfriend she wanted: calling her every morning, listening to her complain about her parents, buying her pricey gifts—Kira’s love language. She’d had her list of boyfriend requirements and I’d checked the boxes, but there was nothing more I could be for her. She tried on “girlfriend of an American football player” for a while and it didn’t quite fit. Novik, on the other hand, is definitely the type who can help her reach her goal of being a wealthy, pampered wife who’d be flawlessly beautiful if not for the way her terminal discontent shows on her face.
Okay, so I’ve thought about this a lot. I guess it’s easier to analyze Kira than it is to contemplate why I’m fine being in a relationship that doesn’t make either of us happy.
So now I’m free and the girl I can’t stop thinking about is Lenni.
I found out she writes for the school paper, and I’ve been reading her articles every time a new issue comes out. She’s a talented writer and smart as hell. If she hadn’t already proven that the first time we talked, she makes it clear every time she raises her hand in class. Her surprise when she realized I’m in the honors section of Writing for the Digital Age was almost as satisfying as if she’d been impressed.
Of course, it’s not her brains I can’t stop staring at. The first night we met I thought she was so refreshingly pretty with her loose hair and no makeup. But whatever you call this new style of hers, it brings her sexiness into sharp focus, and I can’t look away. I hate being the stereotypical dude who starts drooling the second some nerdy girl slaps on eyeliner and a miniskirt (looking at you, Reeve), but damn.
The sight of her tits in a tight shirt makes me want to dive in headfirst. Her whole body sets me off. The way she walks into a room just...gets me. She moves like she’s on a mission, all long legs and broad shoulders that make it impossible not to stare. The idea of her using that strong, muscled body, naked and on top of me has kept me awake every night this week. But so has the cold truth that if she’s going to wind up in any bed in my house, it’ll be Reeve’s. And that has me even more heated than any fantasy I have about her. I can’t understand why Lenni does the ditzy jersey-chaser schtick when she’s around him. And whatever she’s playing at, I’m not letting her get away with it any longer.
That night I stop home after practice to change into jeans. Four of us share the house, but tonight the only light comes from Reeve’s bedroom. I knock on his door.
“Come in,” Reeve calls over the music coming from inside. He’s lying on the bed, tossing a neon-yellow foam football up against the ceiling and catching it again.
“Hey. Thought you’d be at dinner with Dina.”
“Didn’t happen.”
There’s a little clench in my stomach. I put my hands in my pockets and lean against the doorframe. “Bummer.” I don’t need to ask what went wrong.
“She said next month, maybe.” Reeve keeps tossing the ball. “Heard you and Kira were chatting it up on campus today.”
I shake my head. “Seriously? Someone actually told you that?”
“Slow news day. So does she want you back?”
“She just wanted to tell me she’s fucking someone else.”
He snorts. “Shocker.”
“Like I care. You know Kira; stone-faced to the end, but she loves a reaction.”
“Good for you not getting pulled back into the bullshit. You need a clear head this season.”
“Come play poker with us. We could use another man,” I say, even though I know what his answer will be.
“I’m good here.” He stares at the ball in his hands. “Maybe don’t mention anything about my mom to everyone.”
“Wasn’t going to.” I turn to leave. “Meet up if you change your mind.”
“Hold on.” Reeve drops the ball and reaches for a pair of jeans on the floor next to the bed. He pulls something out of the back pocket—the gift card—and slings it across the room to me.
I catch the card but hold it out toward him. “Keep it for next month.”
Reeve gives a subtle shake of his head as his eyes light on me. Then he picks up the football and his gaze goes to the ceiling again.
“Okay, I get it. You want to be wined and dined,” I say, pocketing the gift card. “You and me. Bistro Violette. Next weekend. Let’s give this town the football bromance they’re craving.”
A small smile cracks his facade as he throws the ball into the air once again.