Wait for You. J. Lynn

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СКАЧАТЬ that Cam was a very charming, harmless flirt who liked to hand out cookies to pretty girls and had a pet tortoise named Raphael. That was good. That was doable. I could handle that. Otherwise, what Brittany and Jacob were suggesting made me itchy and antsy.

      Maybe Cam and I would become friends. I was okay with that, because it was nice to have more friends like before.

      But as I climbed into bed and lay awake, staring at the ceiling, for a moment, a really brief moment, I wondered what it would be like if Cam were interested in me like that. To have something like that to look forward to. To be giddy and excited whenever he looked at me or when our hands accidentally touched. I wondered what it would be like to be interested in him like that, or in any guy for that matter. To look forward to dates, to first kisses, and all the things that came after that. I bet it would be nice. It would be like before.

      Before Blaine Fitzgerald had taken all of that away.

      Storm clouds were rolling in Thursday morning and it looked like it would be a rainy, cruddy day on campus. Luckily I only had two classes to sloth through, so before I headed out, I grabbed a hoodie and slipped it over my shirt. I thought about changing out of my shorts and flip-flops, but decided I was feeling way too lazy to go to that much trouble.

      Texting Jacob to see if he wanted me to pick up any coffee before I hit art class, I slipped out of my apartment and made it to the stairwell before Cam’s apartment door flew open and a guy came out, pulling a shirt down over his head. His shaggy, shoulder-length blond hair poked through, and I recognized him as the guy with Cam’s tortoise—the roommate.

      The moment our eyes met, a big smile broke out across his tan face, exposing a row of ultrawhite teeth. ‘Hey! I’ve seen you before.’

      My gaze flicked behind him. He’d left the door wide open. ‘Hey, you are … tortoise guy.’

      Confusion flickered across his face as his sandals smacked off the cement. ‘Tortoise guy? Oh, yeah.’ He laughed, the skin crinkling around his brown eyes. ‘You saw me with Raphael, right?’

      I nodded. ‘And I think you called yourself Señor Fucktard.’

      Letting out another loud laugh, he joined me on the stairs. ‘That’s my drinking name. Most days people know me as Ollie.’

      ‘That sounds much better than Señor Fucktard.’ I smiled as we rounded the fourth-floor landing. ‘I’m—’

      ‘Avery.’ When my eyes widened, he gave a toothy grin. ‘Cam told me your name.’

      ‘Oh. So … um, you’re heading to—’

      ‘Yo douche bag, you left the door open!’ Cam’s voice boomed down the stairwell, and a second later, he appeared at the top of the stairs, the black baseball cap on. A lopsided grin appeared as he spotted us and bounded down the steps. ‘Hey, what are you doing with my girl?’

      My girl? What? I almost tripped over my feet.

      ‘I was explaining to her how I go by two names.’

      ‘Oh yeah?’ Cam dropped an arm over my shoulders, and one of my flip-flops snagged in the back of my other one. His arm tightened, pulling me to his side. ‘Whoa, sweetheart, almost lost you there.’

      ‘Look at you.’ Ollie hopped down the steps. ‘Got the girl tripping all over her feet.’

      Cam chuckled as he reached up with his free hand and slid the cap around backward. ‘I can’t help it. It’s my magnetic charm.’

      ‘Or it could be your smell,’ Ollie retorted. ‘I’m not sure I heard a shower this morning.’

      Cam gasped in mocked outrage. ‘Do I smell bad, Avery?’

      ‘You smell great,’ I murmured, feeling my face heat. It was the truth, though. He smelled wonderful—a mixture of fresh linen, faint cologne, and something else that was probably all him. ‘I mean, you don’t smell bad.’

      Cam watched me for almost a moment too long. ‘Heading to class?’

      We were walking down the steps, but his arm was still around my shoulders and the entire side of my body seemed to tingle like it had fallen asleep. He was so … casual about it. Like it was nothing to him and it probably wasn’t. I remembered how he and the girl had hugged last night, but to me, it was …

      There were no words.

      ‘Avery?’ Cam’s voice lowered.

      I wiggled free, and I saw the way Ollie’s grin spread. I headed down the stairs, needing distance. ‘Yeah, I’m heading to art. What about you guys?’

      Cam easily caught up with me on the third floor. ‘We’re going out to breakfast. You should skip and join us.’

      ‘I think I’ve done enough skipping this week.’

      ‘I’m skipping,’ Ollie announced, ‘but Cam doesn’t have a class until this afternoon, so he’s a good boy.’

      ‘And you’re a bad boy?’ I asked.

      Ollie’s grin was contagious. ‘Oh, I’m a bad, bad boy.’

      Cam shot his friend a look. ‘Yeah, as in bad at spelling, math, English, cleaning up after yourself, talking to people, and I could go on.’

      ‘But I’m good at the things that count.’

      ‘And what are those things?’ Cam asked as we exited the building. Outside the air carried the faint scent of dampness, and the clouds looked plump with water.

      Ollie jogged out in front of us and turned so that he was facing us as he walked backward, completely ignoring the red truck trying to back up. He held up a tanned hand and started ticking off his fingers. ‘Drinking, socializing, snowboarding, and soccer—remember that sport, Cam? Soccer?’

      The easy grin slipped off Cam’s face. ‘Yeah, I remember it, asshole.’

      Ollie just laughed and turned, heading toward where the silver truck was parked. I glanced up at Cam, curious. He stared straight ahead, jaw set and eyes like chips of ice. Without looking down at me, he shoved his hands into his jeans and said, ‘See you around, Avery.’

      With that, he joined Ollie over at his truck, and I’d swear the temperature dropped to match the sudden coolness in Cam’s attitude. Didn’t take a genius or an overly intuitive person to figure out that Ollie had touched on a sore spot and Cam hadn’t been in the mood to elaborate.

      Shivering, I hurried to my car and jumped in. Not a second too soon as a big, fat raindrop splatted against the windshield. As I backed out, I glanced over, my eyes finding them. Both guys were standing by the bed of the truck, Ollie smiling and Cam with the same distant, rigid set to his expression as he spoke. Whatever he was telling his friend, he wasn’t happy about it.

       Chapter 6

      I had no idea how I let Cam talk me into riding with him and not taking two cars, but Saturday night—the night of our assignment—just before dusk, I found myself climbing СКАЧАТЬ