Wait for You (32 page)

Might have been the tequila and beer, but I wanted to run around like a lunatic.

Luckily I didn’t attempt that, because the stairs proved to be a tricky beast. I think the depth between each step kept changing on me. Back in my too toasty apartment, Cam shut the door behind us. He still held my hand tightly in his as he turned to me. He didn’t say anything, and a nervous anticipation swelled inside me.
 

“You’re missing the fight,” I said again.

“So I am.” He tugged me around the couch and then down, so I was sitting beside him. Only then did he let go of my hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay.” I smoothed my damp palms along my jeans. “Your friends are probably wondering where you are.”

Cam leaned back against the cushion, throwing his arm along the back of the couch. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope.”

I sat forward and looked over my shoulder at him. He appeared to be waiting for something. Unable to sit, I jumped up and nearly face-planted the coffee table. Would have if Cam hadn’t caught my arm.

“Maybe you should sit down, Avery.”

“I’m okay.” Wiggling free, I moved around the table carefully, just in case it decided to move on me. The nervous energy buzzed along with the alcohol. I tugged my sweater off my skin, feeling hot. “So… what did you want to do? I can, um, turn on the TV or put a movie in, but I don’t have any movies. I guess I can order one from—”

“Avery, just sit down for a little while.”

Instead of doing that, I picked up a fallen pillow and placed it on the couch. Straightening was a little difficult, but I flitted over to the moon chair. “You don’t think it’s hot in here?”

Amusement filled his blue eyes. “How much did you drink?”

“Um…” I had to really think about that. “Not much—maybe like two or three shots of tequila aaand two beers? I think.”

“Oh wow.” Cam leaned forward, his lips tipping into a grin. “When’s the last time you’ve really drank?”

“Halloween night,” I blurted.

He looked confused. “I didn’t see you drink Halloween night.”

“Not this past Halloween night.” I stood, tugging on my sleeves and my fingers brushed the bracelet. “It was… five years ago.”

“Whoa. That’s a long time.” He scooted forward and then stood. “You got water in here? Bottled?”

“In the kitchen,” I said, wetting my lips.
 

He disappeared and reappeared pretty quickly, handing a bottle over. “You should drink this.”

I took it, but wasn’t thirsty.
 

“So that made you, what? Fourteen? Fifteen?” He sat back down on the edge of the couch.

“Fourteen,” I whispered, my gaze dropping to where his hands hung between his knees.
 

“That’s really young to be drinking.”

Sweat dotted my forehead. Sitting the bottle down, I picked up a hair tie from the coffee table and pulled my hair up into a messy bun. “Yeah, you didn’t drink when you were fourteen?”
 

A little grin appeared. “I snuck a beer or two at fourteen, but I thought your parents were strict?”

I snorted as I dropped into the moon chair. “I don’t want to talk about them or drinking or Halloween.”
 

“Okay.”

Feeling sweaty, I tugged my sweater up. It got stuck around my head for a second and then finally, I got the itchy material off. Knocking the loose strands of hair out of my face, I glanced over at Cam. You’d think I didn’t have a tank top on underneath by the way he was staring at me, but it was more than that.

I stood once more, wanting to be far away from that conversation, because Cam was looking at me again like he was seeing more than I was showing. I thought about how he’d looked when he saw the scar on my wrist and outside minutes before.
 

It was the same look.

Like he was piecing together a puzzle and the pieces were starting to fit. For some reason, through my disorganized thoughts, I thought about Teresa and how he was when he’d realized she was talking to a guy. He’d taken protective older brother to a whole new level. Had she…?

I shook my head and pushed those thoughts away, because it made me think of how there hadn’t been anyone looking out for me.
 

But I didn’t want him looking at me like that. I didn’t need him to watch out for me, to worry about what I was doing or what would happen. I needed him to…

Look at me the way he had the first night he’d kissed me and then again in the bed at his parents house. I wanted him to see me like that.
 

“What are you doing?”

I stopped in-between the kitchen and hallway. My fingers were curled around the edges of my tank top, and there was a different kind of interest in his stare, a keen wariness. My heart was racing and my thoughts were crashing into one another. I liked Cam—a lot. Even if it was crazy and doomed for heartbreak. My heart already hurt. And I’d missed him and he missed me and he was here now when he could be with his friends, with Steph.
 

Part of me stopped thinking completely. The other part told me to do what was expected, what someone like Cam would want and need, because wasn’t that why he was here? Because we weren’t talking and I wanted to be that girl from before.

I took off my tank top before my brain caught up with everything. Oddly, that part wasn’t hard. Cool air washed over my flushed skin, spreading tiny bumps. The hard part was looking up when I heard Cam inhale.
 

“
Avery
.”

My heart was thumping so fast and my pulse pounded. Blood rushed to my face, but I looked up.
 

He was staring at me, the wariness in the tense line of his jaw was overshadowed by the way his chest rose like he was breathing just as fast as I was.
 

Slightly dizzy, I leaned against the wall, letting my arms fall to my sides. Cam stood a few feet away, and I hadn’t seen him move around the couch. He wasn’t just staring at me. Oh no, it was much, much more than that. I felt devoured by his stare, like I had felt when he’d kissed me, as if he was committing every detail to his memory. Warmth traveled down my throat, across my chest, and to the lacy edges of my black bra. His lips parted, and I bit down on mine. When he dragged his gaze back up, an intense feeling built low in my stomach. Heat poured into his crystalline eyes, deepening the brilliant hue.
 

There was a twinge of uncertainty blossoming in my chest, under the delicious tensing, and my throat dried. I didn’t want to feel that. I wanted just the warmth and the breathless feeling.
 

“Cam?”

He shook his head, hands closing into fists at his sides. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” I asked.
 

His eyes squeezed shut. “This—don’t do this, sweetheart.”

“Isn’t that what you want?” I swallowed.
 

Cam’s eyes flew. “I don’t expect that, Avery.”

My confidence wavered like a thin tree in a storm and then completely collapsed. I sucked in a breath and it got stuck in my throat. “You don’t want me.”

Cam was in front of me within a second, so fast I hadn’t even seen him move. His hands were planted on either side of my head and he leaned down, his face inches from mine. Tension rolled off his body in waves. Air fled my lungs as my body went rigid.
 

“Fuck, Avery. You think I don’t want you?” His voice came out low, almost a growl. “There’s not a single part of you that I
don’t
want, you understand? I want to be on you and
inside
of you. I want you against the wall, on the couch, in your bed, in
my
bed, and every fucking place I can possibly think of, and trust me, I have a vast imagination when it comes to these kinds of things. Don’t ever doubt that I want you. That is not what this is about.”

My eyes widened as confusion swirled through me, muddling my thoughts further, which at this point, seemed impossible.

He leaned in, resting his forehead against mine. The contact sent my pulse pounding. “But not like this—never like this. You’re drunk, Avery, and when we get together—because we
will
get together, you’re going to be fully aware of everything that I do to you.”

It took a few moments, but what he said finally sunk in through the liquor haze and confusion and made sense. Closing my eyes, I turned my head to the side, feeling the way his skin slid alongside mine. “You’re a good guy, Cam.”

“No, I’m not.” He exhaled deeply and his breath was warm against my cheek. “I’m only good with you.”

Chapter 25

What Cam had been waiting for happened shortly after I took my shirt off and showed him my bra. He’d gotten me to sit down and wrapped a quilt around my shoulders, covering me up. We were watching a horrifically bad science fiction movie when all that liquor decided it didn’t want to me in my belly anyone.

Tearing off the quilt, I scrambled over Cam’s legs and lap. “Oh God…”

“What? You’re sick.” Cam was on his feet.
 

I rushed toward the bathroom and slammed the door behind me. Dropping to my knees, I lifted the lid and started heaving. Every muscle in my body went through the motion. Tears streamed down my face as my body shuddered. It seemed wrong to be going through this after having the flu.
 

Over all the retched noise I was making, I hadn’t heard Cam come in, but he was there, kneeling beside me. His hand smoothed the length of my spine, a continuous, endless soothing stroke as he scooped the hair that had escaped my bun out of my face. He stayed, murmuring unintelligible words to me that did wonders, even through the violent dry heaving stage.
 

When it was all done, he helped me lean against the bath tub while he grabbed a small towel and ran it under the water. He knelt down, wiping the soft material across my face, like he had the night of the Halloween party and when I’d been sick. “Feel better?” he asked.

“Kinda,” I murmured, closing my eyes against the brightness. “Oh God, this is so embarrassing.”

He chuckled. “It’s nothing, sweetheart.”

“This is why you stayed, right?” I moaned, feeling like a giant idiot. “You knew I was going to be sick and here I was, taking off my clothes.”

“Shh,” he said, tucking the loose strands of my hair back. “As charming as it was to watch you vomit up your guts, that’s not why I stayed and you know it.”

I closed my eyes again, feeling a bit floaty. “Because you want me, but not when I’m drunk and puking all over the place?”

Cam burst into laughter. “Yeah, you know, that sounds about right.”

“Just making sure we’re on the same page,” I murmured. It kind of struck me then that I was still just in my jeans and bra, but I honestly didn’t care. Tomorrow would most definitely be a different story.
 

“We’re not.”

I pried one eye open. “Ha.”

“Thought you’d like that.” He swiped the cool, damp cloth along my chin.
 

“You’re very… good at this.”

“Had a lot of practice.” Cam tossed the towel aside, grabbed a new one and repeated the steps. “Been where you are quite a few times.” He ran it down my neck, over my bra straps and then the length of my arms. “Want to get ready for bed?”

My other eye flew open.

He shook his head and the dimple appeared in his left cheek. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he said, standing. With his back to me, he rummaged around the sink. A faucet turned on. He was back in front of me again, holding a loaded toothbrush. “Thought you’d want to get the taste out of your mouth.”

My fingers made grabby motions. “You are wonderful.”

“I know.” He handed it over and then replaced the toothbrush with one of those paper cups I never used. When I was all done, he knelt again and rocked back on his heels. He unzipped his hoodie and shrugged it off. “I’ve been trying to get you to say I’m wonderful from the first time you plowed into me. If I’d known that all it would take was handing you a toothbrush, I would have done that a long time ago. My loss.”

“No. It was my…” I pushed myself up a little, watching as he reached down and pulled the shirt off his head. “My loss—what are you doing?”

“I don’t know where your clothes are.”

“Uh-huh.” My gaze dropped and I think I needed the damp towel again.
 

“And I figured you’d want to get out of your clothes.”

In the bright light, I saw the detail on the sun tattoo like I never had before. There had to be a thousand little marks inside the sun, giving it such a realistic, fiery detail. “Yeah…”

“So the easiest thing would be to let you borrow my shirt.”

My eyes went even lower, over the dusky nipple and then down, tracing each ripple of his stomach muscles.
 
“Okay.”

“Then you’d be more comfortable.”

There was a fine dusting of dark hair the appeared under his navel and traveled south, below the band on his jeans. It looks like someone placed their fingers on either side of his hips, indenting the skin there. “Sure,” I murmured. How did someone get muscles there? Like what kind of stomach exercises did you have to subject yourself to?