Cameron #2
“Dink it and sink it,” Cassie demands, holding her shot out to us.
We knock cups and tap the bottom to the table before throwing them back. The liquor burns, a welcome pain, and I wince as I swallow in one go.
I don’t drink often—it fucks with my muscle gain—but when I do, I enjoy almost every second of it. Until the hangover, that is.
“Let’s make drinks and head back in.” My best friend grabs three solo cups and makes us each a Crown and Coke, and then I follow the girls into the living room.
The music is so loud that we’re shouting to hear each other as Cassie tells me about some douchebag she encountered at work.
“What a prick,” I agree, downing more of my drink.
Cassie just nods enthusiastically, which leaves room for Grace to speak again. She’s starting to annoy me even more than she did before.
“So, Cam,” she starts. “How’s it working at the shop?”
“Fine,” I tell her. “Lots of sweating.”
It’s meant to be a joke, or maybe even to gross her out, but she just grins.
“Sounds hot,” she purrs. Once again, those fingers reach out and latch onto my arm.
Her touch sends disgusted shivers over my body, which she undoubtedly perceives as lust, as she grips me harder.
“Aww, cute,” Cassie croons. “I’ve been trying to get Cameron to date for years.”
It’s a true fact, but not something I want Grace to hear.
With a strained smile, I say, “Guess I haven’t met the right one.”
“Or maybe,” Grace interjects, “you haven’t given the right one a chance.”
Her knowing smirk and death grip tell me she believes she is the right one, and my mind drifts to Atticus. To his warm, strong hands and his filthy words.
I can’t very well tell them I am giving the right one a chance, so I just force a tight smile and look around the room for somewhere to escape to.
But then I spot him. Leaning against a wall by the stereo is Atticus, and his eyes have narrowed in on Grace’s fingers clutching my arm.
Oh, shit. He doesn’t like that. I can read him most of the time, having spent so many nights together, and I can tell that he’s about three seconds from ripping her arm off.
Atticus is a possessive, vicious thing when he wants to be.
Luckily, Cassie saves the poor girl, asking, “Cam, can I talk to you for a moment? Alone?”
I’m quick to agree, shooting one last glance Atticus’s way before following her to the guest room. The room in which Atticus took my mouth like it belonged to him and turned my entire world upside down.
Good times.
Cassie cracks the door, sighing as she plops down on the edge of the bed. “I saw Atticus just now.”
“Oh. Me too.”
Is this all she wanted to talk about? Why does she suddenly appear shy and conflicted?
I down the rest of my cup, feeling the pleasant buzz begin to course through me.
“Listen,” she says. “I’ve been… wondering. This girl Atticus says he’s seeing—is she real?”
My heart begins to pound. Fuck, has she caught on? Can she see the way I look at him, how badly I want to touch him whenever we’re in the same room?
Do I talk about him too much?
“Uh, I think so,” I mutter, staring at the bottom of my empty cup. I could really use another drink.
If Cassie really has caught on, could I convince her to keep our secret?
“Oh. I only ask because we never see her, and I wanted to… well, I wanted to ask him…Ugh, I feel pathetic.” She groans, covering her face with her hands.
Her little red dress rides up her thighs, her brown hair cascading over her shoulders as she whines.
“Ask him what?” I question, and I can hear the blood rushing in my ears.
I have a feeling this has nothing to do with me and everything to do with her. And it makes me fucking nauseous.
“I wanted to ask him out,” she confesses.
I stare at Cassie, and for the first time since we met in high school, I want to disown her. I want to never speak to or see her again, so that Atticus won’t either.
My brain screams mine while my hands shake around my empty cup.
“Why… why would you do that?” I ask.
“Because I like him?” She says it like a question. Like I’m stupid for asking. “He’s kind and confident and successful; any girl would like him.”
Any girl. Because of course it would be ridiculous for me to like him.
I have to sort this out. I have to steer her away and protect what belongs to me. Who I belong to. But how? How do you convince someone that the man who is perfect is actually distasteful?
My mind reels, and I grasp onto any bit of knowledge that I have that could dissuade her.
“You should steer clear, Cassie,” I instruct. “Seriously. He’s no good for you.”
Cassie uncovers her face, shooting me a piercing glare. “What is that supposed to mean? You don’t think I’m good enough? Or what, do you have a secret crush on me I should know about?”
I laugh. I literally laugh in her face. The fact that she’s assuming that, rather than me potentially liking the same man tells me everything I need to know.
I should not, and will not, ever tell her about Atticus and me.
“It’s not that.” I’m attempting to placate her, to get her to listen to me. “It’s just… he’s, uh…”
I’m floundering. I cannot think of a single thing to say to turn her away from the idea. Sure, I could let her confess and believe that Atticus will turn her down, but I’m too scared.
What if she does and he realizes how much easier life would be with a beautiful woman? I won’t risk it. I can’t.
“He’s what, Cam?” Cassie pushes.
“He’s controlling!” The words come to me suddenly. And they’re not wrong—Atticus is very controlling. In a totally hot, totally wanted way, of course. But she doesn’t need to know that. “He’s super intense. Like, you wouldn’t like dating him.”
“I don’t know,” Cassie murmurs, her eyes wide with shock and denial. “I might like that.”
“You won’t,” I insist. “I’ve seen it. He wants to dictate your every move. What you wear, where you go, when you see him. It’s crazy.”
Cassie purses her lips, raising an eyebrow at my declaration. “I think you’re being dramatic.”
“I’m not! Seriously. He’s like a dictator. It’s… It’s repulsive.”
The word leaves me with a sour taste. I’m trying so hard to push her away from him that I genuinely do lie to her.
“Plus,” I continue. “You’d have to sit around in that dark castle every day, completely shut out from the world. If you get with him seriously, you’ll be stuck. You think he’d let you go?”
“Uh, Cam—”
“No, listen,” I interrupt. “You’d be his little thing to own, not his wife. He doesn’t operate like that. Trust me when I tell you that you won’t love being with him. His personality can be pretty revolting.”
“Cameron!” Cassie shouts, her eyes wider and more startled now.
I realize I’m panting, staring down at her in a panic. But she’s hardly looking at me.
“What?” I breathe.
Then I follow her line of sight, where she’s side-eyeing the door of the guestroom, and I see him.
Atticus, standing in the now open doorway as he glares at me. It’s a glare so piercing, so terrifying that I freeze.
Shit.
Without a single word, he turns on his heel and walks away.