Chapter 20
I’m giddy the next morning. I didn’t dare let Cameron stay much longer in my apartment with Mom on a train back, while he has parents and grandparents coming and going from his place constantly, so today’s conditioning session is the first time I’ll get to see him since we kissed.
My stomach goes buttery at the memory. I wonder where we go from here—we never got a chance to talk and it’s too awkward to text about. Will he take me out on a real date? Or—my heart freezes—was this just a one-time thing, complicated by the whole “we’re actually teammates” reality of it all?
“Where are you going?” Mom asks as soon as I walk into the living room.
“Group conditioning.” I try my best to play it casual, twirling the house keys on my finger. “Did you not see it on the calendar?”
“Why are you dressed like… that?” Mom looks me up and down.
I’m wearing the hot-pink body-hugging top an athleisure brand sent months ago. Wearing something so showy to training sessions always felt like it would make me unnecessarily stand out (the boys usually dress like they ran out of clean laundry), but I have extra motivation to look good today.
“I thought maybe I could take a quick photo for content.”
The lie rolls off my tongue so easily I feel guilty when Mom beams. “That’s a great idea! Do you want me to come with my camera?”
“Er… my phone should be good enough,” I say. I’m finally becoming friendlier with the guys—even fitting in. I don’t want that being blown up by Mom pushing in on our training session with her DSLR. “It’s more authentic that way.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’m so glad you’re finally showing initiative.”
I give Mom a cheesy thumbs-up and scoot out of our apartment as quickly as I can. Her obliviously happy smile makes me feel guilty, especially when I know she’d spit out her oat milk latte if she knew the real reason I suddenly wanted to dress nicely for conditioning.
Pat drops the dumbbell he’s pressing when I walk in. Georgios trips, nearly falling off the treadmill.
“Morning.” Caleb waves at me from the stretch mats. This is the first group session in four months where he’s acknowledged me with more than a grunt.
I try not to smile too widely. This must be how Chloe and Savannah feel all the time. I now understand why Roz takes an hour getting ready every day. Being admired is a heady, flattering feeling I’ve never appreciated because I’ve always been more focused on fitting in than standing out.
“Morning.” I drop my gym bag in a cubby at the entrance and settle myself on the mat next to Caleb.
“How’d you find your first gala after-party?” he asks, gaze sweeping over me appreciatively.
“It was fun. I think I overdid it on the shots, though.”
My stomach flip-flops when Cameron walks in. His eyes go wide when he sees me.
“It was your first time,” Caleb says forgivingly. He tilts his chin at Grayson, who’s entering next to Cameron. “Should’ve seen that one three years ago.”
“You lot talking shit about me?” Grayson approaches, looking amused. It’s the friendliest he’s ever been to me. “I like the pink, Kwong. Definitely your color.”
Cameron gives him a little shove. “We warming up, mate? Or do you want to chat some more about her fashion?”
Grayson blows me an exaggerated kiss as they walk by toward the weight station. Cameron rolls his eyes at me, but he’s grinning. There’s a smile on my face, too.
After the session ends and our trainer departs, I purposely take my sweet time packing up.
I make a show of folding my bands, bundling up my hoodie neatly and tucking it into my bag.
The guys do their usual goofing off as they wipe down their stations.
I hold my breath when Pat asks Cameron if he’s coming to lunch.
“Nah, I’ll catch up with you lot later,” Cameron says.
I busy myself stacking weights that don’t need to be restacked and pray everyone will think the redness spreading across my face is the aftermath of a hard workout.
Finally, the doors swing shut behind the guys and Cameron and I are alone.
“Hey,” he says.
I’ve been waiting eagerly for this since Sunday morning, but now that it’s here, I’m tongue-tied and shy. For lack of something to do with my hands, I shake out my hair and tie it into a messy ponytail.
He’s watching me with a small smile on his face. “Gray’s right. Pink really is your color. But maybe give me a warning next time. Nearly let a barbell drop on Pat because I was so distracted.”
There’s not much a girl can say after a compliment like that, so I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him.
His response is instantaneous. He wraps his arms around me, crushing me to him.
I tilt my head back, enjoying the feeling of being enveloped.
I press my hand to his muscled chest, wishing there weren’t two layers of fabric between us.
We’re right back to where we left off yesterday morning, before my fear of Mom knocked me to call time.
The thought reminds me we’re in the middle of the OTC.
With some difficulty, I free myself from Cameron and take a step back.
His eyes startle open. He looks as dazed and breathless as I feel.
“We should do this somewhere more private.” I look around. We’re partially obscured from the row of windows by a heavy-duty squat rack and towers of weights, but anyone walking by could see if they bothered to stop and look more closely.
“Yeah,” he says, blinking slowly, as if he’s just realized where we are. “Unless you want to take a page out of Gray’s book.”
The story of Grayson hooking up with one of the marketing interns on the weight bench has already become legendary.
Frank had the misfortune of walking in on them.
Their punishment consisted of no full-time offer (hers) and ninety sets of burpee box jumps (his).
Not exactly equal, but par for the course when it comes to how discipline tends to be doled out around here.
I give him a look.
“Joking, joking. What do you want to do?” He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I love how he’s always playing with it.
“I’d prefer we don’t make out in the gym.”
He chuckles. “I meant, what do you want to do with this?” He gestures between us.
The question makes me warm and nervous. I want us to spend time together.
I want us to be more. But there’s no universe where the two of us make sense.
Not to mention, statistically, most relationships are more likely to end than go on successfully, Mom and Dad being a big flashing LED reminder. But I still want to try.
Boy, do I want to try.
“You don’t have to answer right now,” he says quickly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pressure you. It’s whatever you want to do.”
My heart warms and I’m dangerously close to dissolving into a little lovesick puddle on the floor. “Can we keep hanging out, but keep it quiet?”
Cameron furrows his brow.
It’s the most minuscule of movements, but I know, in the sinking pit of my stomach, that I’ve said something wrong. “What? What is it?”
“It’s just, you were cool to go to the gala with Dietrich in front of everyone, but you don’t even want to kiss me in an empty gym.”
I almost laugh at the obviousness of the answer, that he even has to ask.
“Dietrich races in a separate category. And there’s nothing between us anyway.
” With Cameron, I’d have to deal with the fallout of being direct competitors on-track.
I’m nauseous just thinking about the laughing behind my back; the jokes practically write themselves.
“If you say so.”
“Just think about the field day the commentators would have if they knew.” I do my best chirrupy British accent. “And we have contact! You reckon that’s what those two drivers get up to off-track, too?”
“Please never do that again.” Cameron laughs reluctantly. “You sound like the chimney sweep in Mary Poppins.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.” He chews his lower lip, then sighs. “Fine. You know what? Forget I said anything. We can do what you suggested. It’s your call. It’s always been your call.”
I smile and look over to the windows to make sure the coast is clear. Then I lean in and kiss him again.