Copyright © 2016 Staci Hart

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Cover design by Quirky Bird

Photography by Perrywinkle Photography

Editing by Rebecca Slemons

Extra Goodies

Playlist

Pin Board

Always Right

All the Books

Sexy Kale

How to Hope

Peter Freaking Parker

A Proper Match

Gatekeeper Meets Keymaster

Christ On a Bike

Infallible

Yes/No/Maybe

Fertilized

Doublemint

Clark Kent Never Wins

Big Bad Brains

Crazy Pants

Badly Done

Keep Walking

Just Because

YouTube Saves

Crazy He Calls Me

Begging For Thread

The Construct

Lost

Keep Breathing

Burn Together

True Colors

Limbo

White Knight

Mirror

Epilogue

Hearts and Arrows

Deer in Headlights (Hearts and Arrows 1)

Snake in the Grass (Hearts and Arrows 2)

What the Heart Wants (Hearts and Arrows 2.5 Novella)

Doe Eyes (Hearts and Arrows 3)

Fool’s Gold (Hearts and Arrows 3.5 Novella)

Hearts and Arrows Box Set

Hardcore (Erotic Suspense Serials)

Volume 1

Volume 2

Volume 3

Box Set

Bad Habits (Romantic Comedy)

With a Twist

Chaser

Last Call

Wasted Words - Coming May 19

Nighthawk - a Steampunk Adventure Romance - Coming Summer 2016

Once

Short story on Amazon

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To Kandi for being the back wheel of the Tribecycle so we can go real fast.

And to Becca for being the steady front wheel who keeps us from crashing.

ALWAYS RIGHT

Cam

I’M PART PSYCHIC.

OKAY, MAYBE not full-blown, tell-the-future, Madame Esmeralda or anything, but with little more than a glance, I could tell you a number of things about a person, from the types of books they read to their favorite drink.

I’d always sorted people, just like books in the Dewey Decimal System, where everything had its place. Geeks with geeks. Chic with chic. For instance, when I first met my roommate, Tyler, I instantly knew several things to be true. He’d played sports — football I’d guessed — any man that tall and built would be crazy not to use his body for sports. He’d recently been dumped, determined by the fact that he’d come to live with me with little more than a suitcase full of clothes and a couple of boxes. And as for his favorite drink, I’d pegged him for a beer drinker. That one was just a hunch, but I’d put my money on it, and I was right.

I only used my powers for good, making matches between people I knew or strangers I encountered, planting little seeds, nudging them together. Not physically nudge them — as a five-foot-two dork in glasses, weighing in at a buck-oh-five soaking wet, I couldn’t even open some doors without grunting. But I could see patterns between people, and with a well-placed word or maybe a little bit of well-meaning manipulation, I could get people in each other’s line of sight long enough for them to actually see each other.

Although, at the end of the day, I really did it because I was in love with love.

There’s something terribly satisfying about imagining two people falling in love and then witnessing it. To know that you had a hand in them finding someone to love, especially when you hadn’t found love yourself. Not that I wasn’t looking, but my love life had been sort of nonexistent for a long time. It felt safer that way.

Besides, it’s easier to see everyone else’s business than your own, and I was perfectly happy with setting up everyone I could.

My job at Wasted Words was equal parts manager, comic book dealer, bartender, and matchmaker — the last being my favorite part of the job. Mixing up the comic boys and romance girls who came in had become my favorite hobby. I ran singles night, which was the easiest place to make magic, and bartending was another avenue to making love connections. I’d been doing it since college, making matches, but ever since I’d been hired to help open and run Wasted Words, I’d upped my stats exponentially.

It was almost too easy. Fish in a barrel, and all that. Meeting people in New York wasn’t easy, and the concept for our bar — which was also a coffee shop and bookstore, featuring an extensive comic collection — brought in an eclectic group of clientele. We had everything from corporate lawyers looking for hentai, more commonly known as tentacle porn, to teenage girls browsing our massive romance aisles. There were the college kids, especially from Columbia, as we were pretty close to campus, and then of course the standard stereotypical romance reading cat ladies and the super nerdy comic guys. Those were the easiest to match up.

For instance, there was a girl at the other end of the bar — let’s call her The Reader — with her nose in a book as she sipped on her chai. As I wiped off the bar top in front of me, I noticed she flipped the pages with the speed of a lifer, probably reading since she was a little kid. Her fingers were smudged with ink or graphite, and every time she pushed up her glasses, she rubbed a little off on her nose. Noting the black notebook under the one she was reading, it seemed a safe assumption that she was an artist of some sort. Something about her — her posture maybe, almost like she was trying to make herself smaller, or her clothes, loose fitting and a little out of style — told me that she wasn’t the ball-busting, go-getting type, but she was pretty, to be sure, with skin like cream and hair in a bun with heavy bangs.

A few seats over sat a guy who’d been watching The Reader around a pint of Guinness and a Japanese comic. His eyes would dart over to watch her, though she kept flipping pages, completely unaware, so absorbed in her book that she hadn’t sensed him, even with him throwing unspoken signals at her in waves. He had the look of the standard guys who frequented the comic shop where I worked before Wasted Words — awkward, tall, skinny by society’s standards at least. I thought he was adorable in his own right, with shaggy dark hair and a hoodie over a T-shirt of Batman eating ramen, framed like a comic cover and titled in Japanese characters that said Batman and Ramen. It’s delicious.

I imagined her looking up at him and smiling, then him moving down to talk to her. Then he’d ask her out, they’d exchange numbers, and she would blush sweetly. They’d go to dinner, talk about books and life, he’d kiss her in front of her door. And then marriage and babies and the whole lot.

I sighed dreamily.

Batman could have had a solid shot at The Reader with nothing more than a breath of self-confidence, but that was always the trick. He didn’t have any, and neither did she. Which was where I came in.

My roommate, Tyler, chuffed at me. “Leave them be, Cam.”

I narrowed my eyes at him playfully. “Don’t tell me what to do, Tyler.”

He laughed and shook his head, and all I could do was smile across the bar at him. Tyler sat in the seat he always took, near the back of the horseshoe bar where he kept me company at work. He was six feet, six inches of absolute man with friendly, warm eyes, a smile like stadium lights, and a jaw that was straight out of an Abercrombie ad. I freaking hate Abercrombie, but I’d buy everything they sold if Tyler were on the billboard in his underwear.

What a catch, right? Thing was, his fish and my fish didn’t even live in the same pond. No, his pond was full of cheerleaders and beauty queens, models and girls who also belong on Abercrombie ads and … I don’t know. Not me, that was for sure. Don’t get me wrong — I wasn’t butthurt about it or anything. It was just one of those facts of life. Nerdy girls wearing flannel and Death Star T-shirts brandishing the quote That’s no moon don’t date gorgeous ex-tight ends. They date video game testers and baristas who moonlight at Magic: The Gathering tournaments. Guys who blow their money on cosplay outfits and PC upgrades.

I smiled and jerked my chin toward the two, guiding my thoughts back to things I could change. “Look at them. They’d be so sweet together.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe he’s abusive.”

I snorted. “Yeah, right. I’m pretty sure she could take him.”

He smirked and picked up his beer. “I’m just saying. You don’t know anything about them.”

“Not true, I know at least a little bit. Look, she has ink on her fingers, so I’m betting she’s an artist of some sort.”

“Maybe she sells newspapers.”

I gave him a flat look. “No one buys newspapers anymore.”

Tyler eyed me, amused. “There’s no way you’re right.”

I hung my hand on my hip. “Really? Should I remind you of Jane and Charlie?”

“No, really, Cam. You shouldn’t.”

But I did anyway. “If it weren’t for me, they would never have gone on their first date, which means they never would have gotten married, which means they wouldn’t have their adorable babies who I’m the honorary aunt of. They hated each other, Tyler. Hated. And now they’re the happiest people I know, all thanks to me.”

He shook his head again and tipped his beer toward me. “And thus began your crusade to make matches for everyone you meet.”

“Yes, it did. Because if I can make two people as happy as Jane and Charlie are? That’s what it’s all about.”

“But I still believe in the old fashioned idea of letting people decide who they want to date.”

“But what if they do want to date, but they just don’t know it yet?” I asked emphatically.

“It’s a sick hobby, Cam,” he joked.

“It’s so satisfying. Like peeling a sunburn.”

He made a face, but he still laughed.

“Oh, or watching power washing porn.”

“What?” His lip curled.

“You’ve never seen it?” I pulled out my phone, chuckling. “Oh, man, are you in for a treat.”

He glanced around. “Are you sure I should be looking at porn?”

I rolled my eyes and handed my phone over. “It’s not actual porn, it’s just gifs of people power washing stuff. Like before and after.”

He watched it for a second before humphing. “How about that. It is really satisfying.”

“Told you. Just like I told you that girl’s an artist.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Betcha five bucks.”

Tyler sighed, and internally, I crowed at his defeat. “I’m probably going to regret this, but you’re on. You’re due to be wrong, any minute now.”

I laughed, turning to the two of them again, smiling even wider when I realized what they were reading. “Bet you twenty I can get them together.”

He pursed his lips, considering it. “If you can get him to ask her out right now, I’ll throw in dinner on me.”

“You can’t rush art,” I said with a wink and a smile as I headed over to The Reader to work my magic.

She looked up from her book and pushed her glasses up her nose, widening the graphite smudge.

“Doing okay over here?”

“Yes, thanks. Could I get a glass of water?”

“Sure thing.” I grabbed a glass and filled it with ice. “Whatcha reading?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Oh,” she said as she slipped her finger between the pages to hold her place before glancing at the cover. “Outlander.”

I nodded my approval. “A classic. Jamie Fraser is the perfect guy, am I right?”

She blushed a little and sighed, smiling softly. “This is my fourth read-through of the series. He’s just everything, you know? Soft and hard, sensitive without being weak. He’s the ultimate man.” She sighed again. “Too bad he’s not real.”

“Well, if he was, he’d only be made for one woman. At least this way, we all get to have him.”

She smiled again, her glasses slipping down just a little. “I guess that’s true.”

I set the water in front of her, and she took a sip. “So, are you an artist?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Your fingertips are smudged. In fact, you’ve got a little something right here.” I motioned to the bridge of my nose.

“Ugh,” she groaned and looked at her hands before digging through her bag for a little pack of wipes. “You’d think I’d remember to wash my hands after drawing, but I only do if I’m in the studio. Hence carrying these around like I’m traveling with a toddler. I mean, unless I’m the toddler, in which case, that makes a lot of sense.”

I laughed. “What’s your medium?”

“I love charcoal, but it’s such a mess. Clearly.” She held up her hands in display.

“That’s what I’ve heard. My boss’ boyfriend is an artist and the same thing happens to him. He painted the piece just above you.” I pointed up, and she leaned back to look.

“Oh, I love that so much, and love that it’s the first thing I see every time I walk in.”

“He’s super talented, for sure.” I leaned on the bar. “Random question, but have you ever read any comics?”

She shook her head. “Never.”

“So, there’s this Japanese comic I love — it’s called InuYasha. It’s about a girl who falls in a well and is sent back in time, into feudal Japan.”

Her smile bloomed. “Wow, just like Claire in Outlander.”

“Totally. I mean, technically it’s classified as romantic comedy, so the tone isn’t at all like Outlander, but it’s fantastic. They’re on the hunt for these jewels, and InuYasha is her protector, even though she doesn’t usually need it, being a badass herself. You should check it out. I can hook you up with a copy of the first book for fifty percent off, if you’re interested.”

“Absolutely,” she said, blushing happily. “That’s so kind of you, you don’t have to do that.”

I shrugged. “Anything to convert people to comics. I’ll have Ruby grab a copy and I’ll add it to your tab.” I pushed off the bar and smiled at her. “I’ll let you get back to your book. Just let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

“Thanks,” she said with a smile, and I felt like a boss as I made my way over to Batman. The seed had been planted, and the added bonus of convincing her to go from Outlander to manga had me giddy.

“How’s it going over here?” I asked, glad he was in front of the dish well so I could linger.

He shook his head, raking a hair through his dark hair. “Pretty good, thanks.”

I dunked my hands in the soapy water of the dish well and felt around for a dirty glass to clean. “InuYasha, huh?” I nodded to the Japanese comic in his hand, my ace in the hole.

“It’s a classic. I’ve read the series at least a half-dozen times.”

“Me too. I got them all when I studied in Tokyo for a semester.”

He looked surprised. “You can read Japanese?”

I nodded and moved the glass to the rinse well. “And speak it. Do you know what your shirt says?”

“Actually, no. Let me guess — Stupid Americans will buy anything?”

“Close. Batman & Ramen. It’s delicious. Clever.”

He looked down at it, chuckling. “I wish I’d known that all along.”

I rinsed a glass. “Do you read fiction at all?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. Song of Ice and Fire was the last series I read. You know, Game of Thrones?”

“Yup. I read all eight thousand pages.” I smiled. Got him. “So, one of my favorite fiction series is about a woman who gets kicked into the past through a stonehenge. It’s called Outlander, have you heard of it?”

He narrowed his eyes in thought. “Yeah, there’s a TV show about it, right?”

“Yup. So much skin. And the writer of the series is actually friends with George R.R. Martin.”

He looked impressed. “I had no idea”

“Right? Claire gets sent back two hundred years, into the Jacobite Rebellion. Scottish warriors. Epic fight scenes. Epic sex scenes.” I waggled my brows.

“Do you guys carry it here?”

“If we didn’t, I would have already quit. But you should watch the show first.” I dried off my hands and leaned on the bar, just like I had with The Reader. “It’s mostly a chick fandom, but you see my roommate over there?” I nodded to Tyler.

“The big guy?”

“Yeah. He used to play football and has got to be one of the manliest men I know, and he loves the show. Last time I watched it without him, I didn’t hear the end of it for a week. Don’t tell him I told you that, though.”

Batman chuckled.

“And plus. That knowledge could help you out someday, know what I mean?” I glanced over at The Reader, and he followed my gaze.

“Oh,” he said with understanding when he saw what she was reading. “Looks like I’m upping my cable subscription tonight. Thanks for the tip,” he added gratefully.

“Any time, man. Hope you like it. Give me a shout if you need anything, okay?”

He nodded, smiling as he watched The Reader. “Sure thing.”

I strutted back over to Tyler, and he raised a dark brow. “You look awfully sure of yourself, considering you didn’t even get them to talk to each other.”

But I shook my head. “Planting the seeds, man. She’s reading Outlander, and he’s reading a Japanese comic with the same premise.”

He eyed me. “You told him I watched it, didn’t you?”

I shrugged. “I had to convince him it wasn’t just for girls. You were my best argument.”

He groaned. “You used me against myself.”

“Sorry. Actually, that’s a lie, I’m totally not sorry, and you’re a fanboy for Outlander, so don’t even play,” I said with a laugh. “Oh, and by the way, she’s an artist, preferring charcoal, thank you very much. I’ll take five now and twenty on meeting …” I glanced at the soon-to-be couple and bobbled my head, “three. By the third meeting, they’ll be together.”

He sighed and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, fishing around before pulling out a ten, the tendons in his muscular forearms fluttering. I couldn’t help but watch — it was like a tiny beacon of virility, calling my name.

“Got change?” he asked.

I snatched the bill from between his fingers with a snap and a grin. “Of course I do. I work in a bar.”

Tyler

I watched Cam’s back as she opened the register and made change for me, only a little irritated. Mostly, I was amused, as I was so often with her. I’d seen her at work on couples a lot, and it never ceased to amaze me. She explained it once to me by likening it to being able to see connections between people — all she had to do was focus on that and she could bag a couple, just like that. It started with her college roommate, and once she had that win under her belt, she was unstoppable.

I smiled to myself with my eyes still on her. Her dark hair hung down her back in soft waves — you could see that her frame was slight, even in a loose black-and-red flannel. When she turned back to me, her rosy lips were tilted in a smirk, dark eyes twinkling behind her glasses.

Here’s the thing about Cam Emerson: she knows everything.

Okay, maybe not everything, but I’ve listened to her carry on conversations in Japanese, German, and French, and she knows enough Portuguese to do more than ask where to find the bathroom or library. I’ve seen her bake a soufflé from scratch that actually melted in my mouth, and I’ve watched her rebuild a laptop for gaming, lip between her teeth, hunched over the coffee table scattered with screws and hardware. I’ve also heard strings of obscenities leave her mouth when she’s watching football and disagrees with a call, which is often, because Cam is also always right.

She handed me a five-dollar bill across the bar with a look on her face that said I should have known better than to bet her. She was right about that, too.

“So what are you doing tonight?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Didn’t have plans, since I’ve got work in the morning. Kyle just texted me that he’s on his way.” I took a sip of my drink to wait for her reaction, since I knew there would be one.

She narrowed her eyes, the corner of her lip pulling into a little grimace. “Ugh.”

“I know. Maybe he won’t be so bad today.”

“We can hope.”

“He isn’t always a douchebag.”

She hung a hand on her hip. “You always say that, but I have yet to see any other version of Kyle.”

A pang prickled in my chest. “I know, but he hasn’t always been like this. When we played together in Nebraska … I don’t know how to explain it, Cam. When you go through that kind of training together, you walk away from it brothers. Maybe he’s let his fame go to his head a little—”

“A lot.”

I gave her a look. “—but he’s a good guy under all of that. When I got hurt, he was the one person who was always there for me, besides my parents. He came every day to the hospital and after, distracting me from the gravity of what happened, distracting me from the knowledge that I’d never play again, never go pro. I was devastated, Cam, and he was there for me.”

“I know,” she said quietly, her eyes soft.

I shook off the emotion. “Anyway, it worked. He helped me through my darkest days. I owe him a lot, including sticking with him through his asshole phase.”

She smiled, her glasses slipping down her tiny nose. “You’re one of the most genuinely good people I’ve ever known. So if you say Kyle is all right, I shouldn’t argue.”

“But you will anyway.”

“Of course I will. Have you met me?” she said with a laugh. “But I’ll try to be nice. For you.”

“Thank you.”

Her eyes flitted behind me. “Speak of the devil,” she muttered before stepping away to make herself busy somewhere else.

I turned to find Kyle strutting toward me with a hint of a gangster lean, smiling under the flat brim of his hat. If he’d had a ghetto blaster to soundtrack his entrance, it would have been playing Kanye. He was one of the only people who I hung out with anymore. I just hadn’t felt like I belonged, not for a long time, but Kyle was familiar, even if he’d changed in the years since college.

“’Sup, man?” he said in greeting as I stood.

We clapped each other on the back. “Hey, man.”

Kyle looked around as we parted, shaking his head. “The fuck is this place? This is the weirdest bar I’ve ever fucking seen. And you wonder why I’ve never come here before.” He took a seat next to me as he looked around with disdain on his face. “You’ve got to quit hanging out in places like this. It’s gonna fuck up your rep.”

“What rep?” I sat and picked up my beer.

“Exactly.” He smirked as he turned to face me and leaned on the bar. “What’s new, bro? I haven’t see you in weeks.”

“Not too much. I think I’m getting close to a yes for my first player. I’ve got a pretty solid yes from Darryl Johnson, I think at least, plus a few more I’m courting, but Darryl is where I’m putting most of my energy.”

He raised a blond brow. “Running back for Nebraska?”

I nodded and took a sip of my drink. “I’m heading up for homecoming. I just hope he sticks around.”

“Maybe if you’d stop being a noble son of a bitch and buy the kid a car, he’d sign the papers as soon as you put them in front of him.”

I frowned. “You know that’s not how we do things.”

He laughed and put up his hands in surrender. “I know, I know. It’s honorable, and I’m proud of you for hanging on to your integrity, doing it the ‘right’ way and all. I just don’t know how that’s ever going to pay the bills.”

“If a player doesn’t want to sign with me because somebody else bought him a car, I don’t want to represent him.”

“Fair enough.” He looked around again, wrinkling his nose. “It smells like coffee and learning. This place sucks. I just don’t get why you come here when I can get you into any club in New York.”

Cam turned the corner of the horseshoe bar and made her way toward us, and Kyle laughed a little too loud.

“Oh, right. I forgot she works here.”

I shot him a look before glancing back at Cam, who had on a smile that I could only describe as bullshit.

“Hey, Kyle. Whiskey?” She tossed a coaster in front of him that said The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them. -Ernest Hemingway.

“And Coke. How’d you guess?”

She shrugged. “You just look like a whiskey guy.”

He shrugged back and turned to me, ignoring her while she poured her drink, but I could tell she was listening to everything, the corners of her mouth tight.

“So,” he started, “you should definitely come with me to Noir tonight. We’ve got bottle service.”

“Kyle, it’s Wednesday.”

“So?”

He looked at me like I was crazy as he took the drink Cam set in front of him without offering her so much as a glance. Her eyes met mine, and I could almost hear her say, See? before she turned back to the register.

I chuckled. “You’re gonna puke at practice tomorrow.”

“Maybe, but what are they gonna do about it? I’m the number two wide receiver in the NFL. You think they’re not going to put me in because I’m hungover at practice?” The big, bawdy laugh was back, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. As if he were invincible.

I felt Cam roll her eyes even with her back turned to us. I was starting to remember why it had been a while since I’d seen him, and I looked him over. The wide-eyed kid from Nebraska was nowhere to be seen these days, but I knew that deep down, his goodness hadn’t left him completely. I just hoped he didn’t self-destruct before he figured it out for himself.

“Come on,” he urged. “Garcia and Jensen will be there, and a ton of chicks. I’ll even give you dibs.”

With that, Cam walked away like she was carrying a lemon between her shoulder blades.

Kyle finally looked in her direction, watching her walk away. He jerked his chin at her as she leaned on the bar, smiling at the girl with the book while they talked.

“Weird bar, weird chicks.”

I frowned, gripping my glass a little tighter. “Cam’s not weird.”

“Yeah, she is. I bet she doesn’t even own a single pair of heels.”

“That doesn’t make her weird,” I said matter-of-factly. “That just means she doesn’t like heels.”

He still looked confused. “She doesn’t even wear makeup or anything.”

“Because she looks fine without it. What’s your issue?”

“I don’t know, man. She’d be bangin’ if she just put a little makeup and a push-up bra on.”

I shook my head, resisting the urge to deck him. “You’re an asshole.”

But he laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. “Oh, come on, man. Don’t be so sensitive. I’m just fucking with you. Cam’s cool — you know I like her. She’s a funny chick, just not your type.”

“And what exactly is my type?”

“Not that.” He nodded to Cam again.

“She tells me that all the time.” I shifted in my seat, watching her.

“Well, then she’s smart too. Thank God you friendzoned her from the jump,” he said with a laugh and took a drink.

“We friendzoned each other,” I corrected.

“Whatever. So are you coming out tonight or what?”

“Or what,” I answered, thankful for the change of subject. “I’ve got work in the morning.”

“So do I, and it’s not stopping me.”

“Well, apparently I don’t have the job security you do.”

He chuckled. “All right, all right. Would this weekend work better for you, Princess? So you can get your precious beauty rest?”

I rolled my eyes with a smile. “Yeah, this weekend could work.”

“Good. Then it’s settled. We’ll get drunk, get you laid, hang out with the boys. It’ll be everything you need.”

“If you say so,” I muttered, not at all interested.

“I say so.”

“Then how could I argue?”

Kyle held up his glass, smile bright. “Cheers to that, motherfucker.”

I raised my glass to his with a clink and we drank, Kyle draining his in a single shot. He set the glass on the bar and stood, fishing in his back pocket for his wallet.

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah, this place gives me the fucking willies, dude.” He tossed a twenty on the bar and slapped me on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you, brother. This weekend, it’s on.”

I smiled. “Good to see you too. Good luck tonight.”

He laughed. “Oh, luck’s got nothing to do with it. Don’t get crazy here in the bookstore, okay?”

“Hey, don’t joke. You haven’t seen this place when the new comic book issues come out.”

He narrowed his eyes in concentration. “It’s like you’re trying to talk to me, but I can’t understand a word,” he joked before turning, calling over his shoulder, “Later, man.”

I raised a hand in parting.

Cam didn’t come back until he was gone, and she had an overdone smile on her face.

I raised a brow. “What’s that look all about?”

“I was told if I don’t have anything nice to say not to say anything. Plus, I made a promise to a good buddy that I wouldn’t give him shit about his assbag friend who looked like he was scared of books.”

I laughed. “I think you’re right. About him being afraid of books, that is.”

She leaned on the bar, smiling sweetly at me. “They don’t bite. Much.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, leaning toward her too. “Don’t let him know, or he might come back,” I said conspiratorially.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

ALL THE BOOKS

Cam

TYLER SMILED AT ME FROM across the bar, and I sighed, content with his company. You know, as many matches as I’d made, I’d never attempted to set Tyler up. The reason was simple: Tyler deserved the absolute best, and I hadn’t found anyone for him yet that lived up to my expectations for him. Not that I’d looked super hard, but that was beside the point.

Bayleigh pushed through the double doors just in front of the bar, waving at me cheerily as she walked past. “Hey, Cam.”

“How’s it going, Bayleigh?”

She made her way behind the bar and shoved her purse into the cubby where we kept our stuff. When she stood, she ran her hands through her blond hair, pulling it into a ponytail. “Weird question, but could you call me Leigh?”

My brow furrowed. “Sure, but why?”

She sighed and rolled her big, brown eyes. “It’s dumb.”

“I doubt that. Come on, what happened?”

“Well, I’m just sick to death of everybody spelling my name wrong. I went to get coffee this morning, and the barista spelled it Baylee. Not that it matters — I mean, it’s just coffee. But it’s gotten to the point that I spell my name to everyone I meet, whether it matters or not. Like, I met a guy the other night, and when I spelled my name he looked at me like I was crazy. So I’m trying on nicknames. At least there’s a chance someone will spell my name right if it’s more common. Leigh seemed like the obvious choice.”

Tyler tilted his head. “Spelled L-e-e?”

Bayleigh’s nose wrinkled. “Ugh. No. L-e-i-g-h. See?” She gestured to Tyler. “I’m doomed, Cam. My parents thought they were so fucking cute, those assholes.”

I chuckled. “I mean, there could be worse things, I guess.”

“I know. I know it’s dumb to get bent about it. I didn’t used to mind so much, but lately it’s been driving me insane. Guess there’s no easy way out, though. Plus, I don’t even know if I’d answer to Leigh.” She sighed. “Back to the drawing board.” She swiped her ID card on the register terminal and clocked in. “How’s it been today? Busy?”

“We were slammed at lunch today — I had to pull Elizabeth off the floor to help make lattes.”

“And Rose, too,” my boss said from behind us.

I turned to the sound of her voice. “Hey, Rosie. Finish that paperwork for the accountant?”

She rolled her dark eyes and pushed her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “Yeah, and it only took me all day. The list of things I hate about owning a store is topped by paperwork.”

“You finished? Want a drink? Scotch or whiskey?”

She took a seat next to Tyler. “Scotch, if you’d be so kind.”

I grabbed a glass and poured her a couple of fingers of amber liquid into a rocks glass.

“You’re a lifesaver, Cam,” she said as she took the offered drink.

I smiled. “I do what I can”

Rose took a sip of her drink. “Bayleigh, don’t forget about the meeting in the morning. We’ve got inventory all day.”

“Yup, and then singles night tomorrow night. I’ll be here,” she sang. “Though I still need a costume. I don’t have anything even remotely comic book-related to wear.”

“Oh,” I said, taking the unplanned opportunity to set plans into motion like a sneaky, sneaky matchmaker. “I had an idea for you — what about Spiderman’s first love, Gwen Stacy? She’s blond too, all you’d need is a black headband and a skirt and top. A lab coat, if you’re feeling adventurous.”

She nodded, excited. “I can pull that off. I think my roommate was a sexy scientist last year for Halloween.”

Rose snorted.

“Perfect,” I said. “And you and Greg will be working the bar tomorrow night together.” I pictured them behind the bar together, and the giddy rush from The Reader and Batman returned.

Tyler gave me a look that said to stop meddling, and I gave him one back that said I’d do what I damn well pleased.

Bayleigh smiled and blushed. “Yeah.”

“Greg’s great to work with, isn’t he?” I nudged.

“For sure,” she swooned. “He’s sweet and funny. Plus, I mean, when he wears T-shirts and you can see all his tattoos? I’d watch him make Harvey Wallbangers all day.”

I laughed. “I should make him squeeze fresh orange juice for the bar. Like, out here on the floor where we can watch.”

Her flush deepened. “Oh, please do, and let me know when it’s happening so I can make popcorn.”

“I’m sure that won’t get me sued for sexual harassment at all,” Rose said and took a drink.

Tyler kicked back his pint and smirked. “That’s my cue.”

I pouted. “Wait, you’re not leaving, are you?”

“As much as I enjoy hanging around, I’ll leave you girls to objectify men without me.”

I laughed. “Aw, jealous it’s not you?”

His smirk stretched a little higher. “Maybe.” He tossed some bills on the bar top. “Have fun, ladies.”

“Bye,” all three of us chimed as he walked out, and we watched until he turned onto the sidewalk and disappeared.

“Man, that boy is fine,” Bayleigh said with a sigh, shaking her head. “I can’t believe he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

“Right?” I said. “He’s had a few serious girlfriends and dated a bunch, but he’s been through the ringer. Get this — in college, his girlfriend dumped him when he got hurt.”

Rose gaped. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I wish. She was a real piece of work. But his last real girlfriend dumped him for being ‘boring’ and ‘too nice.’”

“That’s not a thing,” Rose said and took another sip of her scotch.

“I guess it is a thing, but only if you’re an asshole. Anyway, that’s why he moved in with me. He lived with her and didn’t have anywhere to go when she dumped him.”

Bayleigh sighed. “How do you share a bathroom with someone that hot and not hook up? I’m dying to know.”

Rose shook her head and propped her elbow on the bar, drink hanging in her hand. “It’s not easy. I’ve lived it, and I have to say that the outcome is inevitable. My bottom dollar is on you guys banging at some point, but don’t beat yourself up if you cave. It happens to the best of us.”

I laughed and waved them off, though I could feel the hot flush in my cheeks. “We’re just friends, guys.”

Bayleigh’s brow bent in confusion. “But he hangs out here all the time. Comes to our events. Like, you guys are close, right?”

“Like I said, we’re friends.” I absently twisted a bottle of Fireball so the Devil on the label faced me with that wicked smile on his face.

“It’s not often that the chick gets friendzoned.”

“No, friendzoned by a guy means that you just end up a fuck buddy.” I chuckled. “I guess I’m just one of the lucky ones. It’s unfathomable to me that the two of us could ever be together, even in that daydreamy, pretend sort of way. We’re too different, even down to our height. He’s six-foot-six, which makes him sixteen inches taller than me. That’s almost a foot-and-a-half. Can you imagine having sex with him?”

Bayleigh wet her lips. “Yeah, I could.”

I rolled my eyes. “Ha, ha. I mean, he’d basically crush me. My nose barely comes up to his nipples. I bet having sex with him would split me in two, if his junk is as big as I think it is based on seeing him in sleep pants.”

“Oh, my God,” Rose laughed.

“So you have daydreamed about it,” Bayleigh said as she crossed her arms.

“You’ve seen him. How could you not? But it’s like fantasizing about a book boyfriend. One-hundred-percent of the time, it’s fictional, which makes it harmless.”

Rose snickered. “Right. Totally harmless, you imagining Tyler’s giant hammerhead and what it would do to your lady parts.”

“Nah, I imagine way more of him in the shower than anything,” I joked, not really joking. “Anyway,” I started, anxious to change the subject, “it’s nothing like you and Greg. The two of you have been through a lot, especially with dating. He’s caring and giving, and so are you. You work together, which makes getting to know each other easy, and you’re equal levels of hot. You get along. Your height difference isn’t ludicrous. Should I go on?”

“None of that means that we’d be good together,” Bayleigh argued. “He’s not even into me.”

“Absolutely not true. I’ve seen you guys talking, and I can just tell. Something in the way he looks at you, the way he smiles.  Just because he’s not all googly-eyed or tripping over himself to get to you doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you — he’s not quick to jump into something these days. Rose, tell her.”

She put up her hands. “Hey, don’t drag me into it. Just because we dated for a minute doesn’t mean I know much of anything.” She took a sip of her drink and narrowed her eyes. “I should probably have an opinion about the talk of you dating one of your managers, but alas. I’m out of fucks to give.”

“So,” Bayleigh said, lost in thought, “what should I even do about it?”

“Talk to him,” Rose answered. “He skates, maybe you could ask him for lessons. It was one of Patrick’s tricks to bag me.”

Bayleigh brightened up. “I’ve always wanted to learn to skate.”

“Just think,” I said as I pulled her into my side and waved my hand toward her dream future, or the doors of the bar, whatever. “Greg’s hands around your waist to hold you on the skateboard. Sunshine and Central Park, all smiles.” I glanced over and found her looking dreamily in the direction I’d gestured. “You should make a move on him. Let him know you’re interested.”

She shifted and looked away. “I dunno, Cam.”

“Psh. What is there to know?”

“Maybe that he actually likes me? That would be nice to know before I throw myself at him,” she said, exasperated. “I’m kind of a relationship idiot. I took a job at Habits from a guy who only wanted to have sex with me, and once he did, I got shipped off to Rose to get rid of me.” Her cheeks were pink, and she sniffled, her eyes shining. “I don’t want to get hurt again or taken advantage of. That’s kind of my track record, you know? I just want a good guy who loves me and brings me donuts when I have a bad day. Is that too much to ask?”

I pulled her into a hug, and she sighed against me. “No, it isn’t too much to ask. But Greg is a good guy. He’s not going to hurt you. He’s one of the most stand-up guys I know.” Next to Tyler. I almost said it out loud, but hesitated. Not sure why. I just saw Bayleigh with Greg before Tyler. Maybe it was those high standards.

Bayleigh sighed and pulled away. “That’s true. I’ve just ended up with a long line of scumbag douchers, and I’m kind of done.”

“Well,” I said, “be glad you weren’t here earlier, because the doucheking was in here with Tyler a bit ago.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah — Kyle Churchill.”

Her eyes widened. “The same Kyle Churchill who plays for the Giants?”

I wagged my finger at her. “Ah, ah, ah. That’s exactly the look that will end up getting douche all over you. Go for Greg. He’s a catch, just ask Rose.”

She nodded. “It’s true. He and I went on a couple of dates, but I was still hung up on Patrick. He’s one of the good ones.”

“Well, then why doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” Bayleigh asked, still suspicious.

Rose shrugged. “It’s not for lack of trying. He’d hit the online meat market looking for someone, but that didn’t pan out, and then his dad got really sick and passed away a few months ago, before we opened.”

“I had no idea,” Bayleigh breathed.

Rose nodded. “Yeah. So he’s really busy outside of work. But I’m sure if you can be patient and understanding about his family life, it could definitely work out.”

Bayleigh’s big, brown eyes were soft. “Yeah. It’s really admirable that he would sacrifice so much.”

“It is admirable,” I said. “He’s an admirable guy with muscles and tattoos and a great smile, which is exactly what you need. And you, my gorgeous, loving friend, are exactly what he needs.”

She smiled, her cheeks flushing yet again. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.” I bumped her hip with mine. “I’m always right.”

Tyler

I’d come home to the quiet apartment and changed out of my slacks and button-down, opting for sleep pants and a T-shirt before settling into the couch to read.

Or: try to read.

The only books I’d ever read were for school, never for entertainment or leisure, and on hearing that truth, Cam made it her personal mission to find a book I’d love.

Over the last year, I’d read — tried to read — dozens of books, from a slew of graphic novels to high fantasy, sci-fi, and even romance. But so far nothing had captured my interest, not even the one in my lap — The Martian. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it, because I did. It was fascinating, but I kept getting bogged down by the science, which made me feel dense, and when I tried to skim forward, I felt like I’d missed something.

I’d started and stopped the page I was on probably three reading sessions in a row, and that night, I abandoned the story, opting instead to troll my phone. I was in the middle of an article on predictions for college ball that week when Cam walked in the door.

She smiled cheerily as she removed her key from the lock and made her way inside. “Hey. What’s up?” She glanced in my lap, and when she saw the book, she lit up like the Fourth of July. “You’re reading!”

Her bag hit the ground with a thump, and she bounded around the couch, flopping down next to me so we were shoulder to shoulder. Or more like shoulder to bicep.

“Tell me stuff.”

I made a face, not wanting to admit defeat, but I was pretty sure I wouldn’t pick it up again. “It’s kinda … science-y.”

Her smile fell, slipping into a pout. “Dangit, I really thought this one would be it. I mean, it’s a major motion picture, for goodness sake.” She flicked the bookmark. “You did good on this one. Look how far you made it.”

“It’s not the book,” I said in encouragement. “It’s just me. I think I just don’t like to read.”

She rolled her eyes. “Everyone likes to read. You just have to find a book that turns you on.”

I raised an eyebrow, and a flush blossomed across her cheeks as she looked up at me.

“Not like that, perv.” She laughed and socked me in the arm to divert her embarrassment. “Imaginatively. Everybody has that one book, that first book that just, like … unlocks their brain.”

I sank a little deeper in the couch. “So what was yours?”

“The Hobbit,” she said without hesitation and propped her feet on the coffee table. “It was the first novel I read that wasn’t written specifically for kids, and once I read it, I devoured everything I could get my hands on, even sneaking some of my mom’s novels. The ones on the high shelf. With penetration.”

I laughed as she continued on.

“Some kids played baseball and rode bikes. I read books. Books were what I asked for for Christmas and birthdays. They were what I spent my allowance on.”

“I think that’s the best use of allowance that I’ve ever heard. I blew mine on baseball cards and Bomb Pops on the ice cream truck.”

She shrugged. “I was weird, but so were my parents. I think it’s just an Emerson thing. But I didn’t really care, you know? I lived a thousand lives to escape from real life, because real life is boring and shitty. There’s no adventure, not like we get with Tolkien or Lewis. It’s fun to escape into a book, and I want you to experience it, so back to the drawing board we’ll go.” She picked the book up with a sigh, her fingers grazing my thigh without a thought, and she shook her head at it. “I really thought I had it this time.”

“I bet next time will be the one.”

She patted my knee and gave me a patronizing smile. “You’re sweet.”

She settled back into the couch and sank a little into the crack of the cushions. Her thigh was pressed against mine from hip to knee, and she let out a sigh. I echoed her with a sigh of my own, comforted by her warm body against mine.

“Damn, it feels good to sit down,” she said, leaning into me a little more.

“I bet.” Instinctively, I wanted to put my arm around her, but stopped myself. “Still not used to being on your feet so much?”

“Does one ever really get used to that?”

“Dunno. I figured they’d have to, right?”

“Well, if it happens, I’m not there yet. I spent most of my time managing the comic book store from the comfort of a stool behind the register. Even when we did inventory, I sat on that stool. A tired butt I can handle, but tired feet are the worst.”

I chuckled.

“Tomorrow is another long one — a meeting with everyone in the morning, managing all day, and then singles night that night. You’re still coming, right?”

“Only for you,” I answered, and that was true, even though it was sure to be a good time. I wasn’t the most social creature these days. For a long time, really. But with Cam, it was always easy.

“It makes me feel better that you’ll be there.”

“How come? You’ve got this locked with your eyes closed.”

“I dunno. You just make it easier. Like my magic feather.” She smiled up at me, and the apples of her cheeks touched the frames of her glasses.

I nudged her with my shoulder, smiling back. “Same here.”

“Anyway. I think this one will be even better than the last. Everyone loves dressing up, and dressing up as comic characters is the absolute best kind of dressing up. Is your costume settled?”

I nodded. “Just put the finishing touches on my shield.”

“Good. You’ll make a better Captain America than actual Captain America, as far as I’m concerned.”

I laughed.

“I’m serious,” she said. “You look straight out of a poster for cigarettes from the 40s. They always used the hottest models for those.”

I smirked to cover the fact that I was suddenly very aware of her thigh pressed against mine. “Aww, you think I’m hot?”

She gave me a look. “Anyone with functioning corneas would say you’re hot. I shouldn’t even limit it to that. I’m pretty sure I saw a blind guy give you a double-take the other day.”

A laugh burst out of me, and she smiled, looking smug. “Well, thanks, Cam. You’re not so bad yourself, you know. I’m pretty sure I saw a guy at Wasted Words who was one set of batting lashes away from a proposal.”

She made a noise in dissent. “Please. The only guys who think I’m hot look more like Jabba the Hut than Han Solo.”

I snickered. “Aw, come on. You’ve dated some decent guys.”

Cam laughed. “It’s true. I mean, I only date nerds, but they’ve been mostly decent, if not forgettable. But I’ll take what I can get. I mean, guys who play Magic aren’t all bad, although they’re usually serious babies when I beat them.”

“Nobody likes a sore loser.”

“Nothing hoses off the libido like a grown man in a My Little Pony T-shirt throwing a tantrum over Magic cards.”

The visual made me smile. “You should teach me how to play.”

She raised a brow. “I dunno. Are you a sore loser?”

“Not really.”

Her brow climbed.

“Listen — Street Fighter doesn’t count because you cheat.”

She gaped in mock surprise. “Sir, I do not cheat.”

“Sure, sure. And I hate steak and beer.”

“Says the guy who cheats at chess.”

I gave her a look. “You can’t cheat at chess.”

She folded her arms. “Uh-huh. You can Google it — there are strategy sites where you can put in the board and it tells you how to win.”

I folded mine back at her. “Oh? And how would you know?”

Her lips pursed. “I don’t cheat.”

“Prove it,” I challenged.

She huffed, rolling her eyes as she climbed off the couch. “Fine, but we’re playing on the board this time, no cheating phones. I practiced for at least six hours last week, so bring it on. Oh, and I’m black this time.”

I rubbed my hands together. “You can lose as whatever color you want.”

“I’m gonna beat you one day, if it’s the last thing I do, Knight,” she said over her shoulder.

“Good,” I said, smirking at her back. “Then I’ll have someone to beat for life.”

SEXY KALE

Cam

I WOKE EARLY THE NEXT morning as I usually did, making a huge pot of coffee for Tyler and I to share before cuddling up on the couch with whatever I was reading. Currently, it was Mists of Avalon, which was a favorite of mine. I hadn’t read it since I was in high school, and I was long overdue for a re-read. I’d been in a book rut, uninspired by the last three books I’d tried, but as my dad always said — the best cure for a rut was to pick up a sure thing.

I heard Tyler’s alarm sound, breaking the silence in the quiet apartment, and I did my best not to look when he shuffled out of his bedroom in nothing but a pair of sleep pants, dark hair ruffled. I waited until his back was turned to sneak a quick glance, at least — his skin was smooth and immaculate, and the taper of his long waist was of a mathematical proportion that made my ovaries clench.

Any hetero woman would have looked, I told myself for the thousandth time since he’d moved in. It made me feel a little bit better about blatantly creeping on him.

I turned my attention back to my book, sorta — I couldn’t fully focus as I listened for cues. I knew his habits so well, I could almost time the flush of the toilet, the length of his shower, the moment when he’d open that door and walk out, soaking wet, towel wrapped around his waist in front of a cloud of steam, water dripping down his abs—

Look, I know it’s vulgar, me ogling Tyler like hippies ogle kale in Whole Foods. But Tyler was some good looking kale, if that’s a thing. If it’s not, I’m making it a thing. The guy was built like a dream. Like a teenage dream you’d plaster all over your walls, spend your nights fantasizing about your wedding spread in Seventeen Magazine. The way he looked was unreal. He was so beautiful, you’d be tempted to touch him just to make sure he was made of flesh and blood and not actually a man-bot of chiseled beauty, hand-crafted by an erotic inventor of eroticness.

I attributed my lusty thoughts for Tyler to the fact that I hadn’t dated or slept with anyone in a while. My stupid, hard-up body was a traitor — the lack of physical contact had just reached unmanageable heights, forcing me into fantasizing about the unattainable guy who paid half the rent.

Life is so unfair that I’d be attracted to a guy I’d never date. We were too different, and I’d done that once before, which had resulted in nothing but humiliation and regret.

Tyler and I were friends — I was nothing but his fun and amusing little buddy, definitely not the kind of girl who he could ever publicly date. My mouth could not be trusted, and neither could my ability to walk in high heels or look pretty.

I had been what I call ‘genetically doomed’ — my father was a small, slender man who spent more time with books than he did with people. He had a collection of cardigans that would give Mister Rogers a boner, and nearly every wall in my childhood home in the cosmopolitan city of Walnut, Iowa, was lined with bookshelves. He met my mother at the University of Iowa. Classic story: he was an English major, she studied Library Sciences. She admired his cardigan across the library, and he approached her, complementing the chain on her gigantic glasses. Her cardigan too — he’d appreciated it from across the room. She smiled and said she’d gotten it at Sears, in the men’s department, on sale.

That was all it took. Love at first sight.

Neither of them had ever left Iowa for more than forty-eight hours, and after their graduation and nuptials, they moved back to Mom’s home town of Walnut to be near my grandparents, each of them taking up jobs in the public schools — Dad teaching high school English and Mom as the librarian in the elementary school.

Here’s the thing about having weird parents — they cultivate your weird, thus making weird your normal.

Looking back, I guess I should have been embarrassed when my mom did things like send me to school in clothes that were a decade out of style or with tofu and couscous for lunch. Once she even cut my hair with an actual bowl — she made me hold the orange plastic bowl while she used the kitchen scissors to hack away at it.

But instead of being ashamed, I went to school and told them that my mom had cut my hair because when it was long, I was too strong. Because of my superpowers, and all. I had a peanut gallery enthralled under a tree on the playground as I wove the tale of how I’d accidentally broken the table when I pushed away from it after dinner, or when I pulled the faucet off the shower by accident, but she drew the line when I pulled the car door off its hinges trying to open it. We’d cut it for everyone’s safety, I told them, and they bought it with wide eyes.

I’d been able to read people even then, which made it that much easier to survive the perils of public school in a small town. I knew the bullies and how to work them into giving me their lunch money, and with a smile. I knew how to get the mean girls to compliment my odd fashion choices in high school. I knew who to trust and who to avoid. And that adaptation taught me how to survive the rest of life.

I wasn’t named Most Likely to Succeed for nothing.

Of course, then I left for college. See, I’ve had this problem with authority my whole life. Maybe it’s in part because my parents never were authoritative. I followed the rules, for the most part, and when I didn’t, I had a damn good argument as to why. So when it came to college, as I headed off to the University of Iowa, I knew myself well enough to recognize that I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. I loved to learn, just not anything I didn’t want to learn. Five years in, it was suggested I should choose a major so I could get a degree. I figured why the hell not, especially after finding that I only had a handful of classes needed to do just that.

So I tallied up my classes to figure out what the shortest track to a degree would be and landed on a History major with a minor in Japanese.

Weird, I know. Like I said, it’s genetic.

I’d studied in Tokyo for a semester, and once I graduated, the last place I wanted to go after graduation was back to Walnut. I was ready for another adventure, so I decided to move to New York on a whim. My parents were almost what I’d call horrified that I wanted to stay out of Iowa, which made sense, given that the biggest city they’d ever been to was Omaha. But adventure was basically my middle name. I’d lived a thousand lives through the books I’d read, which meant I was certain I could conquer just about anything.

The first thing I did was find a job, thinking that being a counter girl at a comic shop was temporary. My boss — who looked a little something like the comic guy from The Simpsons, ponytail and all — took one look at me and hired me on the spot. I’d like to say it wasn’t based on my looks, but it would be a lie. I was basically a unicorn — a girl who knew her comics better than most of the guys who came in. And within a few months, he promoted me to a manager. That, I’m happy to say, was strictly based on my abilities.

I’d worked there for two years, content to be in an environment where I was comfortable, had the perks of reading material at my fingertips, and could wear Converse to work. But the day that Cooper Moore came in to buy comics for the first time was, unknowingly, a day that would change everything.

Cooper was one of the New York elite, a socialite and renowned playboy who found himself on the cover of gossip magazines as much as the Kardashians. The day I first met him, he looked like he was shooting for incognito in a baseball hat, shades on, and the first one in the store that day, which was a time when the nerds were usually still curled up asleep in their moms’ basements, dreaming of Sailor Moon. I knew who he was almost right away, and when he asked about some pretty specific underground comics, I knew two things: 1) we would end up being friends and 2) he was the coolest geek I’d ever met.

So, I became his dealer of sorts. Helped sneak him into ComicCon in a freaking full-blown custom-made Batman suit. And when he became the investor for his friend Rose to open the book-slash-comic bar, he asked me to help her run it, and the salary he offered almost made me faint.

Almost.

The second thing I did when I came to New York was find an apartment, which ended up being on the Upper West, subletting a room from a guy named Giovanni, who I never met. My roommate then was Francesca, who had been Giovanni’s girlfriend until she came home and found him nailing a friend of hers. There was apparently a lot of swearing in Italian as she threw all of his clothes off the fire escape — a story that my upstairs neighbor Mrs. Frank loved to retell.

A few months after I moved in — long enough for me to badger her into teaching how to make pasta and speak a little Italian — she met some Wall Street dude who moved her into his penthouse on the East Side, and the subletting carousel began. I’d been living in the apartment for two years, and in that time, I’d had no less than six roommates, including Francesca and Tyler, and he’d lived with me for almost a year. Each one ended up letting the apartment to someone else, changing the scenery every couple of months. My last roommate had sent Tyler to take her place, the guy her friend had just dumped who had nowhere else to go.

I’d never lived with a straight guy before, certainly not one who was built like a freaking stallion. But the second he told me his name, I knew exactly who he was. Everybody knew about Tyler Knight, the Nebraska tight end to watch, the sure thing for an NFL contract. In fact, he played when I was a freshman in college, and I still remember watching the game when he was injured on TV, seeing him lying unconscious on the field as they administered CPR. But the injury to his spine took away any hope he had of a career in the NFL, and we all mourned for him.

I was a little star struck with him at first. The fact that I lived with a legend was crazy enough. The fact that we were actually friends was the nuttiest thing of all.

But friends we were, falling into our relationship easily. I’d never even entertained the idea of him and me as anything more than what we were. He belonged on his shelf and I belonged on mine — the separation between us may as well have been the Great Divide. But friends was a different playing field, one that brought us level as long as the terms were in place. We balanced each other well, even down to the little things — I made the coffee, he cooked the eggs. I knew when to razz him and I knew when he needed a win. So did he. And having something familiar made it a little easier to be so far away from everything I knew.

He stepped out of his room, head to ankle in business casual — he was still barefoot — and it was all cut to perfection, without a pleat or misfitted seam to be seen. His togetherness sent another little flutter through me, while at the same time highlighting the differences between us. I’d never be considered what someone would call together. He smiled as he walked into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee pot.

“Sleep well?” I asked, abandoning my book.

“As well as I could with Kafka barking all night,” he said as he poured himself a cup.

I snorted as I stood and grabbed my coffee cup, heading into the kitchen to sit at the table. “That dog barks at his own shadow, I swear. If Mrs. Frank wasn’t the coolest old lady in the world, I’d riot.”

“For only weighing six pounds, that dog has some real pipes.” He leaned on the counter and took a sip.

“You’ve got to get a white noise machine or something. I learned that years ago — it’s top of the must-have list for living in this apartment.”

He shrugged. “I know. I just forget to actually get one.”

“There’s an app for that, you know.”

He tossed me his phone. “Great. Set it up.”

I caught it and made a face at the busted screen while he watched, amused. “When are you going to get this thing fixed? I mean, you’re all put together, but your phone looks like shit. I can’t even read the icons.” I squinted my eyes at it for emphasis. “How the hell do you play chess on this?”

But he smiled. “It works just fine. It’s what’s inside that counts.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes.

He winked and took another sip of his coffee, setting the cup on the counter before opening the fridge. He pulled out the supplies he needed to make eggs — first the long paper carton, then diced tomatoes, chives, and mushrooms he’d pre-cut, then rummaged through the cabinets for his favorite skillet and silver mixing bowl.

“Are you coming home before singles night to change?” he asked as he picked up a brown egg and cracked it on the side of the bowl.

I picked up my Dalek mug, wrapping my fingers around it. “No, I’m taking my costume and everything with me.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you — I’m bringing a friend tonight.”

My brow raised. “Oh? Do tell.”

“His name is Martin. Met him in a business class in college — he’s an accountant. We haven’t hung out in a while, so I invited him to come with, figured you could maybe set him up. He’s one of the best guys I know, real and honest, you know?”

I smiled. “Sounds like our type of guy. I’ll see if I can find a suitable match for him.” I took a sip. “How’s your day looking?”

He cuffed the sleeves of his sky-blue button down and whisked, holding the bowl in his free hand at an angle. “I have a few meetings to attend with Jack and a phone call with one of my prospects.”

“Which one?”

“Darryl Johnson.”

“Oh, he’s the one who plays for Nebraska? Under your dad?”

He nodded. “I just hope I’ve done enough, you know? This business isn’t always what you’d call honest, so to be a part of an agency that plays by the book and stands on integrity is humbling and terrifying. When everyone else bribes players and you don’t, it’s a risk.”

“Even though it’s illegal?”

“There are ways around the rules. Everybody looks the other way because that’s just how things are done. But Jack’s built something different, and because of his principles, we’ve got some of the top players in the NFL. Darryl trusts my dad, and he trusts Jack. I think he trusts me too.”

I smiled, looking into his honest face, knowing what Darryl would see in it. “I have a good feeling it’s all going to work out.”

Tyler smiled back at me. “Thanks, Cam.” He glanced down at the skillet and poured the egg concoction in with a hiss. “Well, tonight should be eventful, huh?

“Should be. Thanks for coming to hang again.”

“Hey, no worries. I hate to admit it, but it’s fun to watch you work your magic,” he said as he pushed the eggs around the skillet. “Who are you working on now?”

“Well,” I said, leaning on the table, “tonight, it’s sealing the deal on Bayleigh and Greg.”

“Tell me how everyone knows each other again.”

“So, Rose used to work with Bayleigh at Habits. Well, you know she’s a sweet girl, kind of quiet, a little shy until she gets to know you. She’s had some trouble in the guy department finding someone she can trust, so number one priority was to find her an honest dude. Greg is a super honest dude, a total catch. Rose actually used to date him — he was working at a coffee shop, and she asked him to be the bar manager.”

“He’s the skater, right?” he asked as he stirred the eggs around.

“Yeah. Anyway, Greg’s the best, and the guy just can’t seem to catch a break. Every girl he’s tried to date ends up being a disaster in one way or another.”

“And he and Bayleigh are a surefire Cam Emerson match?”

“The outcome appears to be favorable. The two of them … I don’t know. I just want them to be happy, and I think they could make each other happy. Both of them need a win, and in the exact same ways, so, yeah. I think it’ll be a satisfying match. We’ll see tonight.” I found myself smiling at the thought.

Tyler plated the eggs and chuckled again. “That excited, huh?”

“Just a little. But first, I have to count comic books all day. Good news is that I’m in charge of the playlist today.”

“Upsides.” He set a plate in front of me with a napkin and fork. “Your breakfast, m’lady.”

I bowed my head. “Thank you, good sir.” The salty steam from the eggs hit my nose, and I actually salivated, wetting my lips before digging in. An appreciative hum vibrated through me, and when I looked over at Tyler, I caught him watching me, amused. “These are damn good, buddy. You can’t keep telling me there’s no special ingredient because that’s got to be a bald-faced lie.”

He shrugged and laid his napkin in his lap. “Oh, there’s a secret ingredient all right.”

I swallowed a bite and gaped at him. “Are you kidding? I’ve been asking for a year now. What is it?”

He batted his eyes and made a face at me. “Love.”

I rolled my eyes, though I felt myself blush. “That’s adorable.”

He laughed. “It’s the whisking that does it. It’s all in the wrist.”

“That’s what she said.”

His eyes twinkled as he took a bite. “That’s how you get it all frothy.”

“Yeah, you’ve got to beat it real good or it’s limp. Nobody likes it when it’s limp.”

A laugh burst out of him. “You win.” He speared a chunk of eggs and slipped it into his mouth.

“Of course I did,” I said, making a show of taking a bite of my own. “I’m a good winner. Some would say I’m the best winner.”

We finished up our breakfast and finished getting ready, Tyler pulling on his oxfords, while I opted for skinnies, my Visit Mordor tee, and a cardigan. We left the apartment together as we always did, parting ways in the subway station, heading in opposite directions. The trains were packed for rush hour, but I caught a seat as someone got up and felt like I’d won the lottery. Those were the best days, when I could sit down on the way to work without having to maintain my balance. Because took way more brain power than you’d think.

I spent the train ride on my phone, playing chess with Tyler. I’d been practicing, and I swear I was so close to beating him I could taste it. But with my headphones in, soaking in the last moment of solitude that I’d have for the day, I smiled to myself, feeling like it was going to be a real good day.

I put my phone in my pocket when I reached my stop and headed off the train, watching the people around me. An old man trudged through the wide passage as people flowed around him, not even seeing him. I touched his arm as I passed and gave him a smile, and when he smiled back, his whole face lit up.

There were all types of people — the young executives with their phones to their ears and scarf tails flying as they hurried to their important days. There were the young kids, the kind of the age that you wondered if they shouldn’t be in school, kids who were filled with the city, like it lived in their lungs and hearts and veins. Mothers and children. Old ladies laughing together.

I imagined a story for each of them that consisted of one sentence.

An old man sitting on the bench: He loved her, but when she left the world, he was never the same.

A businessman tying his shoe: She dropped her business card in an accident of chance, and when he picked it up, he looked up to find her long legs walking away.

A teenage boy and his girlfriend: He knew every alley in Hell’s Kitchen, but couldn’t tell you the capital of any state, a fact which didn’t bother him in the least because what was there really other than New York?

I climbed the station stairs and walked the blocks to Wasted Words, which was situated just south of Columbia. Walls of windows spanned the length of the store, which consisted of two rented spaces that Rose had turned into one, building the bar right in the center, flanking it with comics on one side and fiction on the other.

I unlocked the doors and slipped inside, locking them behind me, smiling as the scent of books and coffee hit me.

The space was sweeping, with open ceilings and a loft across the back. Bookshelves lined the walls and stood in rows like broad-shouldered soldiers, with leather couches, lamps, and tables clumped in groups in between. We even had a large room in the middle of the loft people could reserve for book clubs or parties.

It also served as the ideal space for employee meetings.

I climbed one of the wide staircases that led to the second floor and waved at Rose through the glass walls. She waved but didn’t smile, never the morning person, her black hair tied in a knot on top of her head, wearing a grey V-neck and leggings. Classic Rose, looking chic without a stitch of makeup and basically in her pajamas.

She was setting up boxes of donuts next to a crate of coffee as Greg put a stack up paper cups on the table.

“Hey, guys,” I said when I walked in. I beelined straight for the donuts, wetting my lips as I looked them over. “Mmm, going with glazed. Thanks, Rose.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank Greg.”

I held up my hand for a high five. “Greg, thanks, dude.”

He smiled and slapped it. “You bet.”

Employees began to show up then, first at a trickle, then in a pour. We had twelve employees, including Rose and myself, five bartenders and five floor employees, but we were working on training everyone in everything, and everyone pulled their weight. Rose even bartended alongside the rest of us, and sometimes managed the floor, same as me. I was in charge of almost all the same stuff she was, the two of us sharing the responsibility pretty seamlessly. I was her right hand, filling in the gaps where they needed to be filled. On top of which I was responsible for ordering comics.

At twenty-five, I had acquired my dream job.

I sat down next to Greg and sipped my coffee as everyone milled around the donuts — Beau, the smirky jokester, and Harrison, his best friend who had no idea he was super hot in the nerdiest way. The two of them were like the bartending dream team of handsomeness. Then there were those employees who were mostly on the floor — Warren, the only douche of the group with the know-it-all comic book chip on his shoulder, Ruby, an eighteen-year-old firecracker with fire-engine-red hair who was training to tend bar, Elizabeth, the quiet girl who all but disappeared when you weren’t looking directly at her, Eva and Polly, the female equivalent of Beau and Harrison, and then there was Jett.

Jett was a fucking unicorn.

With a name straight out of a romance novel and abs to match, he was the assistant manager who read romance novels obsessively. He legitimately could have been on the cover of any book about romance, muscles, gorgeous smiles, and-or perfect hair.

Like I said. Unicorn. There’s only one other guy who I’ve seen girls — and sometimes guys — trip over like they do, and that’s Tyler.

Bayleigh walked in last, her blond, straight hair piled on her head as a yawn stretched her lips into an ‘o.’ Once she had coffee in hand, she scanned the table for a seat, but I flagged her and offered mine.

Next to Greg.

Which I totally set up.

She took my seat as I walked to the front of the room to stand next to Rose, watching as Bayleigh got situated. She glanced over at Greg and smiled shyly, and I patted myself on the back when he gave her a handsome smile back, leaning in to whisper something. She laughed.

I smiled, unabashedly smug.

“Morning, everyone,” Rose started. “We’ll try to keep this brief because mornings are dumb. I just wanted to thank you all for your hard work this last month. Most businesses lose a large portion of their staff in the first few weeks, but you’re all still here with smiling faces, ready to work, so thank you for that too. I couldn’t have asked for a better team. Thanks for not sucking. And that’s all I have to say this early. Cam?”

I smiled as she sat down and took a hit of her coffee. “So, our numbers are looking great, much better than we projected. As far as openings go, you guys have been killing it, which makes me look great. Keep it up.”

They chuckled.

“Singles night is tonight, and I hope we’ll see you singles there. Free drinks for you guys. Don’t forget that it’s a costume party, so if you don’t dress up, prepare to be shamed. Publicly. By me. And I’m relentless,” I said with a smile. “We’re placing our first new order tomorrow, so be sure to get any suggestions for authors or books into the suggestion box before noon. Please also be prepared for next week’s schedule to have some additional hours assigned to you for labeling and stocking. I’ll be catering the extra shifts with burritos and pizza.”

“And booze?” Beau called.

“Booze after,” I said with a laugh. “Anyone who isn’t trained as a bartender and would like to be just needs to let me, Rose, or Greg know so we can get you trained. We’d really like everyone to be capable of working in as many areas as possible. Everyone pulls their weight and steps in where we need help, because at the end of the day, we’re more of a family than anything, or at least that’s how Rose and I see it. Hope you do too.”

“Aww, thanks, Mom,” Harrison said.

I chuffed. “Rose is Mom. I’m the cool aunt.” I stepped over to the stacks of clipboards on the table. “We’ve split you all up into teams to do inventory, one to count and one to tally. Come on up when I call your names.” I grabbed the first one. “Beau and Harrison, I have you in suspense and erotica.”

They wore almost identical smirks.

“My favorite,” Beau said as he grabbed the clipboard and they headed out.

“I figured. Eva and Polly, you two are taking rom-com and half of contemporary romance.” They took their clipboard and stepped back. “Bayleigh and Greg, you’re on paranormal and historical.” They took theirs, and I tried not to look too obvious about gloating. “Ruby and Elizabeth, you’re on general fiction and sci-fi, and Jett, you’ve got the second half of contemp.”

Warren made a face. “What about me?”

I handed him a clipboard. “You’re on your own in comics with me and Rose.”

“How come I don’t get a partner?”

“Because you don’t work well with others.” I glanced around the room. “Any questions?” They shook their heads. “Then let’s get to it. Taco truck will be here in three hours, and if you’re finished with your list in time, I’ll buy your lunch.”

They cheered, and Rose smiled at me. I was the good cop and she was the bad cop, which meant I got to hand out tacos while she handed out tongue lashings.

We headed out of the room, everyone grabbing a last donut on their way.

“Wash your hands before you touch my books,” Rose said as she swept her finger across the lot of us.

“Does licking them count?” Beau asked.

“Only if you want to lose them,” Rose answered over her shoulder.

HOW TO HOPE

Tyler

THE DAY WAS CRISP, THE cool weather blowing in with a gust, carrying the familiar scent of change. For the entirety of my life, it also brought football, and the trigger of the change of seasons was one that used to fill me with nothing but lust for life. Now I was only filled with memories of that time, the longing for that feeling. Six years hadn’t been long enough to forget them completely.

I supposed I never would, which was a blessing and a curse.

I breathed deep as I headed toward the subway station, feeling the cold air in my lungs, remembering that I was alive. That made the loss easier to accept.

The day I was injured found its way into my mind as it so often did, in flashes of memories, smells, sounds. The crowd roaring. The glint of sun off the defensive line’s helmets as we squared up. The crash of pads, screams and grunts of players, like we were at war. I remembered the tackle, remembered falling, but then there was nothing, only blackness, until I woke up at the hospital.

They told me the stories of what happened, and I saw the tape once — it was all I could handle. The play ended, and everyone stood, except me. I lay sprawled out on the grass, body still. Too still. I knew watching it that I wasn’t breathing. I don’t think many people in the stadium were either.

A hush fell over the crowd, an eerie impossibility to have thousands of people nearly silent as medics ran onto the field. My helmet was removed carefully, gingerly — being paralyzed wouldn’t matter if they didn’t because I would have died right then, right there if they hadn’t.

Watching someone perform CPR on my lifeless body was one of the strangest things I’ve ever experienced. They pumped my chest, breathed for me until my lungs began to work again, both teams circling my body in silence.

I stopped breathing for over a minute before they resuscitated me. And then they moved me onto a board and I left the field in an ambulance.

A little more pressure would have snapped my neck. A slight shift in the angle would have ended my life.

My first sense of awareness was only sounds and blurred shapes in flashes and bursts, and when I finally woke, it was coughing against the hard tube in my throat. I tried to fight it, tried to pull it out, but I couldn’t. Not my hands, my arms, legs — my entire body lay useless on the hospital bed.

Terror. That was all I felt — pure terror pressing me from all directions. I was locked in my body like a prison cell. My mom called for the nurse, crying, my dad on the other side of me, telling me to stay calm, that it would be okay. But my eyes darted around the room in panic, blurring from shock and the pain of knowing that he was wrong. Nothing would ever be okay again.

Once they’d removed my breathing tube and I’d calmed down, they told me that I’d suffered a spinal injury to my top two vertebrae, said that the next seventy-two hours would tell us how much damage had been done, how much of it was permanent. They said I was young and strong, that the odds were in my favor. They said we just had to wait and see.

It was the longest three days of my life.

All that I wanted, aside from to go back and do it all differently, was to be alone. I wanted to think. I wanted to cry. I wanted to try to claw my way out of the avalanche, but it seemed like miles before I could reach the air. Before I could breathe. But I looked into the eyes of my mother and father, and that’s where I found strength.

It was weak at first, a glimmering thread of hope that forced me to smile, to tell them I was okay, that I’d be all right, even if I didn’t believe it. But at the end of that first day, as I lay in the bed I couldn’t feel underneath me, I quietly begged my fingers to move, sent the command down my arms as I had thousands of times that day, a mantra repeated over and over, until finally, they did.

There have been few times in my life that I’ve felt so elated, so emotional, so much. As if every fiber of me vibrated with hope, possibility, and determination.

The hope sprang from there. By the next morning — I didn’t sleep, just lay awake, willing my body to listen, to come back to life — I could lift my arms and bend my fingers, nothing close to full movement, but the joy in my parents’ faces filled me with even more resolve.

On the third day, I took my first steps, and it was then that the doctors believed it was possible that I’d make a full recovery. But I’d never play again.

I could never play again, but I would live.

Those first days were filled with that affirmation. Because without it, I don’t know what would have happened to me. The darkness of the knowledge of what it could have been was ever present — I could feel it at the edge of everything, and in the center of that was hope. At first, that glimmer of hope was small, the darkness heavy. But my family was there. My team was there. Kyle was there. And with every day, the hope grew, pushing the boundaries of the dark further away.

They put me in a halo and kept me in the hospital for two weeks, every day full of daily physical therapy as I regained use of my fine motor skills, starting with feeding myself. The frustration of not being able to eat pudding on my own was so high, I swore I’d never eat it again as long as I lived, and it was a promise I’d kept.

In those two weeks, my girlfriend Gretchen didn’t come to see me once. It was days before I could use my phone, and when I checked it, she hadn’t sent anything, so neither did I. What could I even say? She knew where I was, and she didn’t want to see me. I couldn’t even pretend to know why, and I couldn’t fathom how to compartmentalize that, not with everything else.

But Kyle came every day. He spent hours sitting with me, bringing me news, movies, and when I could use my hands well enough, he brought a PlayStation. The best therapy I had for my mind or body was sitting and playing Call of Duty with him, like everything was normal in those moments. Like my universe hadn’t imploded and turned into a massive black hole.

He kept coming when I made it home, every day, without fail. He saved me from myself in those days.

Gretchen came to my parents’ house a week after I was released, looking awkward and ashamed. She couldn’t do it, she’d said. She hadn’t signed up for this, for the stress of it all. At the time, I was crushed, the salt in the gaping wound, an underscore of all I’d lost. Looking back, I wasn’t surprised. Deep down I’d known that Gretchen wasn’t in it for me. She was in it for her, and when I didn’t suit her anymore, she left. If she’d loved me, she would have stayed. It was that simple. Didn’t make it hurt any less, though.

Jack Jones spent a lot of time in Nebraska too, staying for a week at my parents’ house. He and my dad had been friends for near thirty years at that point — he’d been my dad’s agent too, Jack’s first client. Jack would have been my agent, too.

Before he left town, we sat down together, he and I, and talked about my future. It was the topic he’d always made paramount, my future, like a billboard for a life I couldn’t have anymore. But just because I wouldn’t be playing ball didn’t mean he couldn’t help me secure a new future. So he offered me a job.

At first, I’d only accepted because I had no other prospects, settling on a sure thing. But over the course of the year following my injury, I poured my heart into it. I could stay connected to the game in a way that I could be a mentor, help players secure their futures. Coaching was too much pressure — as much as I loved the game, I didn’t know if I wanted to be a leader on that level. Plus, being around the game so much, the players, the energy … I just didn’t know if I could handle it. I needed separation. I needed space. And I found it the minute I had my degree in hand and moved to New York.

It was a fresh start in all ways.

I was still lost in thought as I walked into the building where I worked in Midtown and took the elevator up into the towering skyscraper where every window held a sweeping view of Manhattan — either the harbor on one side and the stretch of city extending toward Central Park on the other. Any way you looked, it was a beautiful sight.

I headed toward my small office just off Jack’s, greeting my coworkers on the way. There weren’t all many of us, as careers went — only eight hundred agent positions even existed for eighteen hundred NFL players, though we had a few agents who handled other sports, a few baseball agents, a few basketball, and a couple of guys who dealt in contracts with hockey and soccer. But football was our specialty and the foundation of our company.

Jack sat at his desk, broad shoulders hunched as he hammered away at his keyboard, looking gruff. His tie was already loose, the top button undone, shirtsleeves rolled up. He was a cowboy in the literal and figurative sense — Jack Jones played for the Cowboys in the eighties and grew up in East Texas. He was a gang-buster, the type of guy to take no shit but who was always honest, even if it lost him a client. He was a rebel, always doing things the way he said would help him sleep best at night.

I popped my head in. “Morning, Jack.”

He glanced up and smiled from under his salt-and-pepper mustache. “Heya, kid. Busy morning already — Pharaoh Carson got a DUI last night and swung at a cop when they charged him, so I’ve got a tornado of bullshit to deal with, which means we have a tornado of bullshit to deal with.” He sighed and ran a hand through his slate-colored hair. “I knew that kid was gonna be trouble, but I signed him anyway. Lemme teach you a lesson — always go with your gut. If you even catch a whiff that a player’s a punk, if you think he’s going to give you hell, you remember that you sign that contract in the same ink he does.”

I nodded. “Where do we start?”

“I’ve gotten a few things done, just some of the big stuff. I need you to start going through his sponsors and touch base. Let them know we’re on it and see if you can’t buy us some time. When’s your meeting with Darryl?”

“After lunch.”

“All right. Let’s hit the pavement on this before it gets any worse. Cathy’s been fielding calls from TMZ all morning, and as soon as Pharaoh gets his ass out of jail, I’ll be on the phone with him. Might even need to fly to Atlanta to deal with it in person, be there when he’s released.” He sighed, looking tired. “I tell you one thing — it’s days like today that I wish I hadn’t quit smoking.”

I chuckled. “I’ll handle the sponsors. Just let me know what you need.”

“What I need is a shot of whiskey and for that dick to have kept his cool, but what can we do but clean up the mess. All part of the job, just my least favorite part of the job.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I can make that shot happen at some point.”

He smirked. “At least we have that.”

With that, I headed into my office and took off my bag. When I sat down at my desk and turned on my computer, my inbox filled with forwards from Jack about Pharaoh. Shit had blown up, all right. I opened our database of contacts and dug in, starting with Nike.

Working as an agent was so much more pressure than playing football. I know it seems strange to say, but football was simple, easy. The rules were clearly defined, but as an agent, everything depended on your network, your relationships. Nothing was easy or simple, it was a web that required constant mending. And my next step, the next advancement in my career, depended on landing my first contract.

But first was Pharaoh.

It was hours before I finally came up for air. Dozens of calls, dozens of talk-downs. I’d had three cups of coffee and felt jittery, but thanks to the caffeine and the standing of Jack’s good name, they were appeased, if only for the moment. Cathy had ordered us lunch, hot Philly cheesesteaks, and had delivered them with a shot. Jack’s orders, she said.

I stood at the window for a long minute after I’d finished, just breathing, trying to push the stress of the day out of my mind. And then I took my seat and called Darryl.

He answered on the second ring. “Hey, Tyler.”

“What’s up, Darryl?”

“The usual, you know how it is. School, football, sleep, repeat.”

“Yeah, I know that routine.” I smiled fondly at the memory. “You ready for the game on Saturday?”

“Man, we’ve been studying plays, and Coach is pushing us hard. Owens passed out on the field yesterday, and I’ve never seen that tank hit the ground like he did.”

“Sounds about right. Wait until the Iowa game. If there’s one thing in the world Dad wants, it’s to murder the Hawkeyes on the field.”

He laughed. “I haven’t forgotten. What’s up with you? I heard about Pharaoh. What a dipshit.”

“Yeah, been a busy day over here. It’s a good lesson for you though — every single sponsorship he has is in jeopardy, and for what? A night out? He could have afforded a driver, but he took his Ferrari out and got tanked, and right now, he’s sitting in jail. One mistake. That’s all it takes to potentially lose everything.”

Darryl sighed. “I can’t imagine why he’d be so fucking stupid. I mean, I’d never put my career on the line like that.”

“I know it feels that way right now, but it’s different in the NFL. College ball is more pure in that way — it’s about the game, that’s it. But when you go pro, it’s about more than the game. It’s money, women, status. Fame. It’s a lifestyle, but you can decide how you let it affect you. Are you going to be a pro baller who blows all his money on a yacht and a penthouse? Or are you going to set yourself up for a future after your career?”

“Kinda like you did?”

“Yeah, kinda. My dad always told me there’s no such thing as a sure thing, so I never slacked off in school. I wanted a solid Plan B, even if I didn’t think I’d ever need it, and if I hadn’t, getting hurt would have been an even bigger deal. I wouldn’t have had a single prospect. That’s part of the reason I wanted to go into this field. To help players with their careers. To protect them and guide them. It’s not for the money.”

“Not that the money hurts.” I could hear him smiling on the other end of the line.

I chuckled. “No, it doesn’t hurt one bit. But I’m not trying to make money off you, not in the ways some of those other guys try to.”

“It’s crazy, man. Most everybody is smart enough not to talk about it, but I know for a fact these agents are courting some of them, hard.”

“How about you? Any other offers?” My stomach tightened, though my voice gave nothing away.

“Nothing official, you know. One even offered my mom a plane ticket home to see her family, but I told him no. I told Mom no. I’ll fly her there myself when I get a contract.”

I smiled. “Hell yeah, you will. I’ll be out there for homecoming and we can hang. I’ve gotten permission to be on the field for the game with you and Dad, and maybe we can work out on Sunday.”

“For sure, man. Good luck with Pharaoh and all that mess.”

“Thanks. Tell my pop I said he’s looking old today.”

Darryl laughed. “Right, so he’ll torture me with burpees in full pads? Psh. You’re on your own.”

“I’ll talk to you soon, man.”

“Take it easy, Tyler.”

I hung up the phone and it immediately rang. Cathy’s voice was on the other end.

“Nike’s on the phone for you, Tyler.”

I sighed. “All right. Send them through.” The phone beeped, and when I heard the connection open, I said, “This is Tyler Knight.”

“Mr. Knight, this is Adrienne Christie, senior rep at Nike. I was just returning your call regarding Pharaoh Carson. I assume you have a good excuse for your player?”

“Depends. Is ‘stupid’ a valid excuse?”

She laughed. “Not really, Mr. Knight. Nike’s not generally in the habit of sponsoring criminals who assault police officers. Unless there’s some mistaking what’s happened, the likelihood of Mr. Carson retaining his contract with us is very slim.”

Worry shot through me at the edge to her words, but I kept my cool and answered confidently, “We’ll know more soon. I’d just ask that you wait until some progress has been made to make a decision on what to do with him.”

She paused for a breath. “All right. I’d like to set up a meeting on Monday with Mr. Jones to discuss the issue. Is that enough time?”

“That’s fair. I appreciate your understanding.” Jack walked in, and I held up a finger. “Thanks, Ms. Christie.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll have my assistant get in touch to set up a time. Have a good day.” The line clicked, ending the call.

I let out a breath and hung the phone back on the cradle.

Jack leaned on the doorframe. “Ms. Christie? As in Adrienne Christie? From Nike?”

“Yeah. She’s giving us through the weekend to figure out what to do with Pharaoh.”

He smirked. “You haven’t met her, have you?”

I shook my head. “She’s not the rep I usually deal with.”

“No, she’s a senior rep, only handles the big stuff. She’s not much older than you, but she’s something else, let me tell you. Talk about a saleswoman. The woman’s a shark.” He shook his head and sighed. “Well, I’ve got to fly to Atlanta. I’m leaving in an hour so I can be there when he gets sprung. Need you to hold down the fort while I’m gone, but I should be back by Monday in time to meet Adrienne. Think you can handle it?”

“Without a doubt, Jack.”

“Thanks, kid. Wish me luck. I’m gonna need it.”

“Good luck. Pretty sure Cathy has a bottle of Makers to send you off with.”

He turned to leave. “God bless that wonderful woman. Remind me to give her a raise.”

I packed up and left a little while later, heading toward the gym in the dusk. The days were getting shorter, the nights longer, but the weather was so great after the blazing summer that I found myself refreshed as I made my way toward the subway station.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see a photo of my sister in a pair of bunny ears, nibbling on a carrot.

“Hey, Meg,” I answered, smiling.

“Hey. You busy?”

“Nah, just got off work. What’s up?” I stepped off the curb and crossed the street, deciding then to walk the mile and a half home.

“Just wanted to chat.”

“I’ll be home in a little more than a week, you know.”

“I know, but still. Plus, you’ll be busy and so will I. It’s homecoming, remember?”

I chuffed. “So you’ll be busy drinking?”

“I’m in a sorority. Of course I’ll be busy drinking. How was work?”

I sighed. “Busy. Pharaoh Carson got himself arrested, and Jack and I were busy putting out fires all day. But all’s well — I’m on my way to the gym before heading home to get ready for singles night at Cam’s bar.”

“What’s the theme?”

“Comic book cosplay.”

“Ooooh. I love getting dressed up. Who are you going as?”

“Captain America.”

She busted out laughing. “That had to be Cam’s idea.”

I smirked. “Yeah, it was.”

“Genius. You look the part. Is she on a mission to match you up with somebody, or are you going to troll for chicks?”

“Neither, just going to hang out.”

She sighed. “It’s been a year since Jessica. You’ve got to get back on the horse. Can’t let a slag like her ruin you like that, Tyler.”

“She didn’t,” I said simply as I stuffed my free hand in my pocket. “This isn’t about Jess.”

“Well, then what’s it about? You haven’t dated anyone since.”

“That’s not true. I’ve been on dates.”

“Right, but you haven’t dated anyone.”

I came to stop at a corner and watched the light, struggling to find the words. “I dunno, Meg. I haven’t found anyone I’m interested in enough to go for, I guess. I’m not interested in investing any more of myself into someone until I’m sure about their intentions.”

“So it is Jessica’s fault.”

My face was flat. “Would it make you feel better if I admitted she was one of many reasons?” The light changed, and I stepped off the sidewalk and into the street.

“Yes, it would. Thank you.”

I snickered. “I’ll date when I’m ready. How about you?”

“No one serious. I’m just too busy to date between the sorority and being a senior. But Jamie and Grace both got asked to homecoming.”

“They’re too young to go to homecoming with boys.”

“They’re sixteen and eighteen, Tyler.”

“Like I said, too young. Now tell me who I have to kill.”

She laughed. “Oliver Wilson and Jesse Crawford.”

I sighed. “Well, at least I know their families, which means I know where they live.”

“I miss you,” she said. “Promise you’ll come out at least once with me.”

“No promises.”

She groaned. “Come on. You’re so boring now that you’re a grown up.”

“I know,” I said with a chuckle. “You’re next.”

“Never. Maybe I’ll come to New York and use my Lit degree to work at Cam’s bar.”

“Hey, it’s not a bad gig.”

“Anything to get out of Lincoln.”

“Except you’ll miss it,” I added. “Everybody misses it. New York is lonely sometimes.”

“Well, luckily Mom and Dad have all those extra bedrooms for me when I come visit.”

“That’s true.”

“Well, I won’t keep you too long, I just wanted to say hi. Have fun tonight, and try to avoid fighting with Iron Man. See if you can’t find a pretty honey to take home, especially if Cam pushes one at you.”

I smiled. “All right. Oh, and Meg?”

“Yeah?”

“I miss you too.”

I could hear her smiling on the other end. “Can’t wait to see you. One week!”

“One week.”

“Talk to you later.”

“Bye, Meg.”

I hung up the phone and slipped it back in my pocket, thinking about what she’d said. It was true that I hadn’t dated anyone seriously since my breakup with Jessica. And it wasn’t like that wasn’t traumatic on its own. When I showed up on Cam’s doorstep, I didn’t have much more than a suitcase to my name. To be with someone, to live with someone who you thought you loved and who loved you, only to have them leave you for faults that you believed were strengths, was disorienting to say the least.

I was too nice. Too good. Boring. I went to all the clubs and parties with her even though I didn’t want to. I played her game, but it wasn’t enough. But I couldn’t pretend to be interested in what she was interested in any more than she could. I’d always known she and I weren’t meant for forever. But getting dumped like that, for those reasons? It was a dick punch that I wasn’t prepared for.

But maybe Meg was right. Maybe I should put in a little more effort to find someone to be with, really be with. Cam’s was the first face I saw when I considered my options, and I wished it were possible between us for the first time in earnest. The thought surprised me, but when I considered it, she was at the top of the list.

But Cam wasn’t interested in me, so I pushed away the idle imaginings of me kissing her or holding her and locked them up tight.

We were friends. That was all there was to it, and the fact wasn’t bound to change any time soon.

PETER FREAKING PARKER

Cam

THE DAY WAS LONG AND full of paper cuts, though the taco break was the ideal reset before switching gears into singles night. Nothing said ‘Let’s do this’ like carnitas and avocado.

Everyone was in good spirits by the time inventory was finished, and most of the staff went home to get ready for the party that night. One of the earliest concepts for the bar was a singles night once a week, an event I gladly took on. Each had a literary theme, and I had so many planned, we’d be set for a couple of years. Like Alice in Wonderland, dystopian, fairy tale, zombies, anime, Victorian, time travel … the list just went on and on. Some were cosplay. Some were almost like a book club, where everyone would be encouraged to read something, with bonus points for a prize if you did. And there was always trivia — we’d purchased special tablets designed for bars that ran trivia games — and I had ways of splitting people up so they’d meet as many singles as possible.

So far, they’d all been a success, but tonight might top them all. Everybody loves a good costume party, and when you mix it up with comics? It’s like a dream come true. For me, at least.

By seven, we had all changed into our costumes. Bayleigh was dressed, as planned, as Gwen Stacy, in a lab coat over a pencil skirt and tight top, with a black headband on and shaggy bangs. Her blond hair fell over her shoulders as she cut lemons on the bar to prep backups for the garnishes. Greg wore a Spiderman costume, stocking the bar in a skin-tight red suit, cap, everything, muscles bulging. Padding not required.

I maybe had a small idea of what his plan was when I suggested her costume.

My closet consisted primarily of flannel, jersey, and costumes, and I’d settled on Rogue — auburn wig with a white streak, black skinnies, a yellow and green tank under a brown leather jacket, and combat boots. She was my favorite. I just needed to find a Gambit of my very own, and I’d be all set.

Bayleigh sliced up the last lemon and looked over the plastic tubs. “Crap, we went through more than this last week. I’d better grab some more.”

“Think you’ll have hands for a couple of bottles for me?” Greg asked.

She smiled. “Sure.”

He scanned the platform stacked with bottles. “Grab me a bottle of Grey Goose and a couple bottles of Juarez.”

She shuddered. “Why anyone would drink well tequila is beyond me.”

He snickered. “That’s how you end up waking up in a stranger’s bathtub.”

Bayleigh giggled and trotted off, and I moved to stand next to Greg, lining up shot glasses. “So funny that you guys match tonight. Did you plan that?” I asked, playing dumb.

“No.” I could hear him smiling from under his mask. “Most girls would pick Mary Jane, but I always preferred Gwen. She was the sweet one — Mary Jane at the time was kind of shallow, but Gwen … she was the good girl.”

I pursed my lips, trying not to smile.

“Plus,” he said as he arranged liquor bottles in the order he wanted, “I have respect for girls who wear costumes that aren’t all spandex and boobs. There really is a sad lack of costumes for chicks that aren’t slutty, and I hate the slutty ones.”

I raised a brow.

He chuckled and pulled up his mask. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind looking. I just hate that it’s the norm for you guys. Like, that you feel obligated to look sexy. Personally, I think it’s sexier when it’s not all legs and cleavage.”

“Like sexy marshmallow! Or sexy hot dog! Or sexy unicorn!”

Greg shook his head, smiling. “Last Halloween, I saw a chick dressed up like sexy corn. Corn. She was wasted, running around the bar screaming ‘Shuck it!.’”

I snorted. “Oh, my God.”

“That same bar had a costume contest, and the girl who won was just wearing lingerie.”

My head tilted. “So … sexy … sex machine?”

“I guess. She walked around all night in heels, fishnets, a corset, and panties.”

“Original.”

“So, yeah. I respect a girl who doesn’t think the only way to get a guy is to strut around almost naked, dressed up like a slutty vegetable.”

“Well, Bayleigh definitely isn’t the slutty vegetable type.”

He laughed. “No, definitely not. She’s too good for that. I’m surprised she doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

I smiled. “Me too. Maybe that’ll change sooner than later.”

He glanced over, smiling again. “Maybe so.”

Bayleigh rounded the corner with her arms full of lemons and bottles, but three steps in, her shoe caught on the bar mat, and her eyes flew wide as she began to topple over. In one swift motion, Greg stepped in front of her and caught her. She fell into him — his arms were just under hers, which still cradled her loot, and she looked up at him with starry eyes and bated breath.

My nerd heart fluttered at the sight of Gwen in Spidey’s arms, and I leaned forward, waiting for them to kiss.

“You okay?” he asked, looking down at her.

She nodded, cheeks flushed. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Greg stood her up, making sure she was stable before stepping back. “Anytime.”

He took the bottles from her and moved to the bar, putting his back to us, and Bayleigh and I shared a grin. Her cheeks were still pink as she set down her lemons and smoothed her skirt, smiling down at her hands while she finished cutting the fruit.

The bar began to fill up not long after, and by eight-thirty, the place was pumping. Most of our staff turned up to party, even Warren the grump was dressed up like the Green Goblin, which matched his scowl perfectly. Well, everyone was partying except for Ruby, who wasn’t old enough to drink. Instead, she stayed in the front with the bouncer and Jett, passing out tiny capes and masks to people who came without costumes. Jett was set up at the table with her, handing out name tags. Everyone was instructed to write their name, drink of choice, and a book on their to-be-read list. Jett composed a master list, rounded up all the books, and put them on a book cart near the bar. Anyone could buy a book and a drink for the single they had their eye on for fifty percent off at the bar.

Books and booze. What reader could refuse? None, that’s how many.

I made my rounds, chatting with our crew and some of our regulars. I found The Reader and Batman — she was dressed up as Kagome from InuYasha, and he wore a kilt and tunic, though with his dark hair, he resembled Roger Wakefield more than Jamie Fraser. But either way, he looked amazing. They both did. She’d dressed up just over excitement from chewing through two books in a day, and he’d come dressed up for her, hoping she would be there.

See? Satisfying. I told them I wouldn’t at all be opposed if they named their first baby Cameron. Girl or boy, didn’t matter.

A little while later, I mixed everyone up, splitting them into teams for the trivia games based on their costumes. It was always literary trivia that covered all forms of fiction, including comics and graphic novels, so each team would hopefully have a variety of knowledge to pool from. After an hour of trivia games headed up by me, we turned up the music again, and just as I’d suspected, almost everyone stayed all mixed up with their groups, mingling with strangers well after the game was over.

I’d just set down my master game pad behind the bar when I looked up to find Tyler walking in.

Everything stopped for just one long moment.

We’d taken a different approach to his costume than the spandex route, dressing him up as Steve Rogers in a bomber jacket, cargo pants, and combat boots, with an old-timey military helmet. He wore a Captain America shirt under his jacket, which zipped part of the way, and he carried a shield we’d made him out of a trashcan and spray paint, which turned out pretty badass, I have to say. He was tall — so tall — his smile straight out of a dream or a toothpaste commercial, his jaw made out of stone cut to perfection. He waved at me, and I blinked, smiling as I waved back.

I noticed he had a friend in tow, Martin, I suspected. It took me a minute to figure out his costume — royal blue slacks, a deep red cardigan, a blue button-down shirt and red bow tie. The 35mm camera hanging from his neck gave it away … I figured he was either Peter Parker or Jimmy Olsen, but Jimmy wouldn’t wear those colors. Really, no one should wear those colors, but he was adorable in his own right, with kind eyes and a friendly smile that I found myself mirroring.

“Hey, Cam,” Tyler said when he’d approached. “This is my friend Martin.”

He stuck out a hand, using the other to push his black-framed glasses up his nose. “Nice to meet you.”

I grasped and shook it. “Same here. Peter Parker, right?”

His cheeks flushed a little. “Yeah. Glad you guessed it. I was worried I wasn’t creative enough, but I put it together last-minute.”

“Nah, you did great.” I smiled at him. He really was cute for a ninety-pound accountant, plus, I was a sucker for nerdy underdogs. My next thought was that I’d work on making a match for him tonight. My smile widened, taking stock of the girls I’d seen, sorting through them for a girl who would complement his charm. I was almost positive I’d seen an adorable girl earlier dressed up as Snow White from Fable who could be perfect for him.

“Come on, let’s get you fellas a drink.” I swung my arm in invitation and headed to the bar.

There were some open seats near the back of the bar, since almost everyone had spread out among the cocktail tables on the floor, and some people had moved further into the store, sitting on the clusters of leather couches.

We took our seats as Bayleigh made her way over with a smile. “Hey, Tyler, good to see you. Whatcha drinking?”

“Yuengling for me. Bayleigh, this is my buddy Martin.”

Bayleigh smiled sweetly. “I’m Bay, nice to meet you, Martin.”

“Bay?” I asked with a brow raised.

“What? I’m trying it on,” she answered.

Tyler quirked his brow. “Bae? Like the slang for baby?”

Bayleigh groaned and rolled her eyes. “Seriously, nothing works. I have no options. How about just calling me B?”

Tyler’s eyes squinted. “Like a bumblebee?”

She groaned again, and I laughed. “What’s your middle name?”

But she shook her head. “I’m not telling.”

My brow climbed. “That bad?”

“Worse,” she said, lips flat. “Anyway, what are you drinking, Martin?”

“Make Cam guess,” Tyler said to Martin. “It’s one of her parlor tricks.”

I laughed. “Um, let me think.” I looked him over and tapped my lip. He seemed like an unfussy enough guy, but definitely not a beer drinker. Something light without being weak. “Vodka soda.”

He smirked. “Rum and Coke. I have a sweet tooth.”

Tyler nudged me. “Look at that. Cam was wrong. I should have bet on it.”

I nudged him back, irked. “Speaking of bets, you owe me twenty bucks. Check them out.” I pointed to The Reader and Batman as they stood close to each other, smiling and blushing happily.

“Dammit,” he nearly whined, but he reached into his pocket and forked out a twenty anyway.

Bayleigh smiled at Martin across the bar. “So who are you supposed to be?”

“Peter Parker. Who are you?”

Her smile stretched wider as she poured his drink. “Gwen Stacy. I saw Green Goblin over there earlier,” she said with a nod toward the romance side of the bar. “Make sure you keep an eye on him.”

Martin leaned toward her. “Wouldn’t want him to steal you away.”

She leaned in too, handing him his drink slowly. “That would be a shame, wouldn’t it?”

I blinked. Nope. Nope. Nope. Actual Spiderman was feet away from her behind the bar, with abs I could see through his spandex and an ass that looked like it was cell-shaded from a fantasy, and she was making eyes at underdog Peter Parker in a bow tie. All my plans disappeared in a poof, right before my eyes. Greg would be alone without Bayleigh — I had no other prospects for him, and he deserved someone as sweet and loving as Bayleigh. After working on the two of them, I wasn’t ready to give up on them, not yet.

Which meant I had to put a stop to Martin.

“So, Martin,” I said a little tighter than I meant, “tell us about your job.” Because if talking about accounting didn’t kill the vibe, I was in deeper trouble than I thought.

“Oh, it’s kind of boring,” he said with a shrug and a blush, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I’m a bookkeeper for Nelson and Neilson. We work mostly with people in the entertainment industry.”

Bayleigh lit up. “Like with studios and stuff?”

“No, with the entertainers themselves.”

“Anyone I would have heard of?”

He smiled. “We do Jay-Z and Martin Scorsese’s taxes.”

She gasped. “Oh, my God, have you seen them?”

Martin’s ears turned red. “I’ve met them both. Aside from being super intimidating, they’re both actually really nice guys.”

Her brown eyes were wide and full of stars and hearts. “That’s so cool.”

“Definitely a perk of the job. Lady Gaga came in last week — she’s thinking about hiring us.”

Bayleigh leaned on the bar and propped her head on her hand.

I blinked again. Of all the accountants in all of New York, Tyler had to bring in one who rubbed elbows with Jay-Z. Or at least punched numbers for him.

Tyler snickered, and I glanced over to find him smiling at me like he’d told me so. Bastard.

So I reeled it in — phase two was to take control of the situation. “Ah, hey, Bayleigh? I need to grab a couple of things from the back, could you help me out?”

She snapped out of it and smiled at me. “Yeah, of course.” She turned to Greg. “Hey, you got this for a second?”

He gave us a Spidey thumbs up with his free hand on his hip and his shoulder blades tight.

I slipped off the stool — Tyler made a face at me, and Martin watched after Bayleigh with a look I could only describe as longing. I just gave an awkward wave.

“We’ll be right back. Come on, Bayleigh.” I grabbed her by the arm and hoped I didn’t look like I was dragging her into the back of the store.

As soon as we were through the doors to the back, I let her go.

I blew out a breath. “Man, that was close. I think Martin’s into you.”

She smiled hopefully. “Really? Do you think?”

“Absolutely, poor kid. You’re way out of his league,” I said matter-of-factly as we walked up to the liquor cage and I pulled out my keys.

Bayleigh frowned. “I don’t really have a league, Cam.”

“Sure you do, and it’s not Martin the accountant. It’s Greg with the arm porn. It’s Spiderman, not Peter Parker.” I opened the door with a metallic squeak of the hinges.

Her frown deepened. “Peter Parker is the real guy though. Spiderman’s just a mask.”

“Yeah, but Peter isn’t sexy without Spiderman,” I said as I passed her liquor bottles.

“Right,” she momentarily agreed, “except Spiderman is just for show.”

I waved a hand like I was swatting away flies. “Doesn’t matter. Greg is the hot beefy good guy, and you’re an inch away from sealing the deal.” She didn’t look convinced, so I tried a new approach. “You know, he was telling me how much he loved your costume earlier. He thought it was classy, and he said Gwen was his favorite of Spiderman’s girlfriends.”

She bit her lip. “He did?”

I nodded. “Mmhmm. I’m telling you, he’s into you. Like when he caught you earlier? He stopped you from busting your shit, breaking two bottles of liquor, and kept you from having to wash those lemons again. I mean, you probably would have fallen on them and messed up your costume. He’s basically your knight in shining armor, and for a second there, when he was holding you up, I thought he might even kiss you.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God. I thought I imagined that.”

“Nope. It almost happened.” It could have happened. Probably. “Listen, be cool to Peter, but go for Spiderman. He’s really the one you want.”

She sighed, the flush in her cheeks pink. “He really is kind of the ultimate, isn’t he?”

I grabbed two bottles of rum and handed them over, feeling instantly better. “Sure is.”

A PROPER MATCH

Tyler

THE GIRLS HAD ONLY BEEN gone for a few minutes, but Martin had been looking in the direction they’d walked since they walked away, waiting for Bayleigh to appear again. The music seemed to have gotten louder as the bar filled up and people spread out through the bookstore, only coming back to the bar to order drinks. Some of the costumes had been fantastic — I’d seen Harley Quinn walking around with a giant mallet on her shoulders, a chick Joker with long, green hair, a guy dressed in a Loki costume who actually looked like Loki, and a guy in the coolest Rorschach costume I’d ever seen with an LED screen on it to make his mask look like it was a constantly moving ink blot. There were people dressed up as manga characters, the Japanese comics Cam liked, and a few characters from The Walking Dead, then of course the ones who didn’t wear costumes and were given loaner masks and capes in primary colors.

Everyone seemed to be having fun. Cam was right — what was new. People love costume parties.

The girls finally reappeared, little Cam with her Rogue wig and leather jacket — though she didn’t ditch her glasses for the cause — somehow sweet and sexy, fully clothed in a room full of spandex. Bayleigh’s smile was tighter than it had been before, and she passed by, asking if we wanted drinks before moving down the bar to help Greg. I didn’t miss the fact that she spent a long time talking to him and away from us.

I tried to tell Cam telepathically that she was being an ass, and she held out her hands in question, like it wasn’t her fault she’d meddled.

Just as she was about to take her seat so I could give her my unsolicited opinion on the matter, a girl behind us said, “Cam?”

Cam grinned. “Sarah? Are you kidding me? I can’t believe you came!” She walked past me, and I turned to see her hug a girl in a Wonder Woman costume.

The girl let Cam go and leaned back to look at her. “You busted out Rogue, huh?”

“And I see Diana Prince is alive and well.” Cam laughed. “Damn, it’s been too long.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by, but we’ve been super busy at Shady’s since you’ve been gone. Things just aren’t the same without you.”

Her smile faded into something that looked a little bit like guilt. “I know. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

“No, I know.” She smiled back with a sad sort of comfort, but her eyes went wide. “Oh! Cam, I’d like you to meet my friend Adrienne.”

She stepped out of the way to reveal a Catwoman the likes of which I hadn’t seen since the pinup girls from the old, campy show in the 60s. Adrienne was tall, probably five-ten before the six-inch patent leather spikes she wore to match the rest of her leather catsuit, with deep brown skin and red lips, eyes big and sparkling from behind her Catwoman mask.

Cam smiled up at her. “Hey, nice to meet you.”

Adrienne smiled back. “You too. You used to work at Shady’s with Sarah?”

“Yup — she took my old job.” Cam cocked her head. “Wait, are you the Adrienne that went to ComicCon with Sarah last year?”

Sarah lit up. “Yes! I wish we’d gone on the same day so you guys could have met then.”

“Ugh, me too, trust me.” Cam turned to me, smiling brightly. “Guys, this is my roommate, Tyler.”

I stood, smiling as I extended a hand. “Nice to meet you two.”

“You too,” they said at the same time a little dreamily, and my smile stretched up on one side.

“Need a drink?” Cam asked.

Sarah grinned. “Aww, come on Cam. Guess.”

She laughed. “Okay, last time.” Her eyes squinted in concentration. “Whiskey sours.”

Adrienne’s mouth opened in surprise, and Sarah elbowed her. “See? I told you.”

We all moved to sit, and in the shuffle, Cam ended up at the far end with Martin, a fact she didn’t look thrilled about, but she smiled and made conversation all the same.

Adrienne sat next to me and Sarah on the other side of her. Sarah leaned on the bar, her gold cuffs resting on the surface.

“So, Tyler, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a sports agent.” I noticed Adrienne sit a little straighter next to me. “And you run Shady’s now that Cam’s gone?”

“Yeah, living the dream,” Sarah said with a dry laugh. “At least I get all the comics I can read and discounted passes to ComicCon.”

“How about you, Adrienne?”

She waved a hand. “I don’t want to talk about work. Work is stressful and wouldn’t approve of my walking around New York dressed like Catwoman.”

Sarah chuckled. “She’s kind of a big deal — she works for Nike.”

My eyes narrowed in thought. It couldn’t have been the same Adrienne. This girl was nothing like the ball crusher I’d talked to on the phone earlier that day, but I said her name anyway. “Adrienne Christie?”

Sarah gaped. “How’d you know that?”

Adrienne sighed. “Tyler Knight?”

I laughed. “Well, how about that.”

“Only I would do this,” she said, shaking her head as Bayleigh dropped off the new round. Adrienne picked the glass up with long, dark fingers and took a sip.

I watched her curiously. “You’re not what I expected.”

She laughed “Yeah, well, I’m off duty.”

“Or on,” I added, motioning to her costume.

Her smiled curled up in amusement. “So, how’s it going with Pharaoh?”

“Good question. I haven’t heard from Jack in six hours, so that’s probably a bad sign,” I joked.

“I’m pretty confident he’s got it in the bag. But don’t tell Work Adrienne I said so.”

I chuckled. “Deal.”

“He’s in Atlanta?”

“He is. We’re waiting to find out more, but he’s been released.”

“Well, at least there’s that. But let’s leave work at work for tonight, all right, Steve Rogers?” She raised her glass, and I raised my bottle, touching the rim to hers.

“Whatever you say, Selena Kyle.”

Cam

I leaned on the bar, trying to listen around Martin to whatever the others were talking about, but Tyler’s back was turned, and I couldn’t hear anything. With every passing second, my curiosity — and frustration — grew.

“So,” Martin started, “how do you like working here?”

I broke my gaze — which was locked on the back of Tyler’s head — and smiled at Martin. “It’s my dream job. I get to run a bookstore, which makes my nerd heart sing Disney songs. I’m lucky Cooper chose Shady’s to visit for his comic needs.”

He nodded. “That’s right, Tyler told me Cooper Moore owned the place with a friend of his.”

“Rose,” I added. “I was actually Cooper’s comic dealer before all this. Now he helps me order for the store.”

The conversation lulled, and I trained my ears toward Tyler, catching him laughing.

“Bayleigh seems cool,” he said and took a drink.

I sighed and looked back at Martin, mustering a smile. “She is.”

“Have you known each other long?”

“Just since she started here, a few months ago,” I said shortly, not meaning to be short, but Adrienne was smiling widely at Tyler, and I wondered what they were talking about.

He smiled, a warm expression that transformed his face into something a little more handsome than it was before. “Does she, ah … have a boyfriend?”

My smiled tightened. “Sorta.”

His smile fell. “Oh. Yeah, I mean, that makes sense. I would have been surprised if someone hadn’t snapped her up.”

“Me too,” I muttered absently as Tyler laughed. Adrienne did too, and with that, I found myself unable to keep still any longer. “I’m sorry, would you excuse me for a minute?”

“Sure,” he said amiably, if not a little crestfallen.

I smiled and touched his arm, relieved, thinking again about a proper match I could make for him. “Thanks, Martin.”

I slipped off my stool and walked around to the back of the bar to check the sales on the computer in an effort to look like I actually had something to do, then made my way to Greg and Bayleigh to check on them. Once my fake-important walkabout was complete, I headed back over to the group, though instead of taking my seat next to Martin, I stood just behind Adrienne and Tyler, who had angled in to face each other while Sarah checked her phone on the other side of her. She smiled gratefully at me for saving her from the third wheel seat and swiveled around on her stool.

Everyone else did the same except for Martin — Bayleigh had come his way again and was leaning on the bar, laughing with him about something.

My mood soured a little tiny bit, but I smiled anyway.

“You guys doing okay?”

“Great, actually,” Adrienne said, leaning toward Tyler. “Tyler and I actually figured out we know each other.

“Kind of,” he added. “She’s Pharaoh Carson’s rep.”

“Ah,” I said with an understanding nod. “Hopefully the mess has blown over sooner than later, right?”

Tyler smiled. “Jack’s the best at what he does, so I don’t doubt it will be.”

“Maybe I can smooth things over with my boss on the matter too. Team effort, right?” Adrienne took a sip of her drink. “Cam, I’m so jealous that you have such a cool job. This is way better than sitting in some office in Midtown every day in heels and a pencil skirt.”

“Amen,” I said with a laugh, raising my glass as I looked Adrienne over again. She was drop-dead gorgeous — she could have easily been a model. Her face was perfect, from the structure itself to her impeccable makeup, her dark hair spilling out in waves from under her Catwoman mask. And of all the women in Wasted Words dressed in spandex, she was the only one who didn’t have an errant lump or bump — just the soft, sultry curve of her breasts to her hips.

She was beautiful. Successful. Nice. And she was into Tyler.

He was into her too.

They’d be an ideal match.

I smiled at her, playing it all out in my head. In part, it made me feel a little sick, sort of like looking down off the top of the Empire State Building, dizzying vertigo. I didn’t quite understand it, though I recognized it distantly as some form of jealousy — not the ragey type, just more of a … longing, I guess you could say. But I shook my head, stepped back from the ledge, and put on my matchmaker hat. Because Tyler deserved the absolute best, and this chick was the cream of the crop.

“I’m so glad you came tonight, Adrienne.” And I meant that in more ways than one.

She smiled again. Seriously, she and Tyler could have been in an ad for teeth whitening or orthodontics. “Me too,” she said. “This place is great. It’s got everything a girl needs — booze, books, and boys.” She glanced at Tyler, and he leaned in closer.

I felt a little like puking. Must have been that taco truck.

Ruby rushed over, bright red hair shining. “Hey, Cam. I just caught some people making out in Erotica.”

I laughed. “Well, at least they picked the right aisle. Did you break them up? I don’t want to damage books out of inventory on account of bodily fluids.”

“Yeah, I had Sammy bust them up, but the guy’s pretty wasted and kind of causing a scene. What should we do?”

I turned back to the group. “You’ll have to excuse me. Enjoy yourselves, okay? I’ll try to make it back over when I can.”

They all waved, even Bayleigh, that traitor, and I followed Ruby through the crowd to deal with the horny drunks. That was my first hint that the night had been a success, and in more than one way.

Cam

From that point, it was one thing after another — the ice machine lost its shit and shot ice all over the back room. By the time we got that cleaned up, it was time for another round of games, and this time I split everyone up by neighborhood. Tyler and Adrienne ended up together, which was just another reason why they’d be great together. If she’d lived in Brooklyn, the whole operation would have been doomed.

We found more people getting fresh in the darker corners of the bookstore, and I started working out numbers to have an extra man on staff to patrol for lovebirds and general mischief.

The bar was still full when we shut it down and kicked everyone out, and the costumed singles left in a stream, some holding hands or hanging on to each other, hopping in cabs together.

Like I said, it was a success.

Tyler walked Sarah and Adrienne out, and I watched them through the double glass doors with a weird smile on my face. At least it felt weird, like my cheeks pinched in a way that didn’t feel quite natural. All this time, I’d had my eyes peeled for a match for Tyler, and now I found one. I just couldn’t figure out why I felt woozy about it. My mind wandered again to the taco truck. It had to be that, because the alternative was just too awkward to fathom.

I didn’t have feelings for Tyler. The thought was absolutely absurd.

Tyler put the girls in a cab, opening and holding the door for them, waving goodbye as they pulled away from the curb.

As he walked in, his hands were in his pockets, and he was smiling, lips together, a simple, content expression.

“That was great, Cam. You did it again — another successful singles night.”

I smiled back, taking his arm as he approached and we walked toward the bar. He smelled like leather, and I tried not to inhale super loud like a creep. “Hopefully they’ll all be this good.”

He looked down at me. “Oh, they will be. This is your zone, your field, your house. I don’t doubt the next one will be even better.”

I sighed, relieved. “Thanks, Tyler.”

He squeezed my hand between his bicep and ribs, still smiling. “Anytime.”

Bayleigh and Greg were already breaking down the bar, pulling the mats and storing the garnishes, wiping the surfaces and washing glasses. They ran their checkouts, and I went through their slips to make sure everything matched up as Sammy locked up and canvassed the store to make sure there weren’t any lingerers. Before long, we were set to go, everyone except Bayleigh and Greg.

Greg had pulled off his mask, and his hair was mussed, pushed in every direction, his cheeks a little flushed. I caught Bayleigh looking at him more than a few times, her cheeks flushed too, though not from her costume.

“You guys are good to close up, right?” I asked.

“Yeah, we’ve got it, Cam,” Greg said.

I slung my bag over my shoulder. “Bayleigh, you have someone coming to walk you home?”

“Oh, I was just going to take a cab,” she said with a hint of uncertainty.

Greg turned to her. “You live close, right? I can walk you home.”

“Oh, would you?” she asked, relieved. “That would be great.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He smiled at me. “I’ll make sure she gets home okay.”

I smiled back, completely satisfied at the prospect of them walking home together. “I know you will. Thanks, you two. You killed it tonight.”

“So did you,” Bayleigh said, waving goodbye as she smiled too, trying to suppress her excitement. “Have a good night!”

“You guys too,” I called over my shoulder as Tyler and I headed out.

Once we were outside, Tyler chuckled. “Man, you’re good, you know that? How much of that did you set up?” Tyler stepped to the curb once we were outside and threw his hand up to hail a cab.

I shrugged. “Well, I got them in matching costumes, so that was the big win.” I didn’t mention the losses. “I probably would have left any of our bartenders to close up alone, especially Greg. But him walking Bayleigh home? Totally unplanned.”

A cab pulled up, and he opened the door for me. “Lucky break.”

“You’re telling me,” I said as I slipped in.

He climbed in next to me, propping his shield against the seat in front of him, and told the cabbie our address.

“So, you and Adrienne really hit it off, huh?” I asked as I pulled off my wig and slipped my fingers into my hair to shake it out with a sigh.

He nodded, watching me. “She’s kind of a legend. Jack’s been working with her for a few years, ever since she was promoted. He’s got nothing but good things to say.”

I folded the fake hair in my lap and combed through it with my fingers, still feeling strange. “I’ve known Sarah for a long time. She told me all about Adrienne, and she really lived up to the hype. I have a good feeling about her.”

He smiled over at me. “I’m glad you like her.”

“I’m glad you like her too.” I smiled back, wondering how deeply I meant that.

He gave me a look, topped off by a smirk. “Listen, don’t go getting any ideas, trying to set us up, okay? I can seal the deal without your help.”

I put up my hands innocently. “Of course you can. No one would ever deny your ability to close. Because you are a closer.” I pointed at him for impact.

“That’s right,” he said with a nod. “I’m a closer, and I know how to ask out pretty girls in Catwoman costumes.”

I raised a brow. “And did you, Mister Closer-man?”

He smirked. “Nah.”

I pouted, though I breathed a little easier. “Well, why not?”

Tyler looked out the window. “I dunno. I just didn’t feel it, you know?”

“Well, maybe you just need more time to hang out. Like, with no pressure. I bet I can get Sarah to bring her to singles night next week.”

“I bet you could too. We’ll see, Cam. I’ll be in touch with her about work all week.”

“Did you at least get her number?” I asked, resolved, already making plans to text Sarah and get Adrienne in the bar again.

“I already have her number.”

I made a don’t be a smartass, Tyler face, and he laughed, pulling a slip of paper out of his pocket.

“She gave this to me before she got in the cab.”

I slapped him on the arm. “Well, look at you, player.”

He chuckled and slipped the paper into his coat pocket. “How about you? Find any guys you had a hankering for?”

I snorted. “A hankering. Like a steak.”

“Sure, why not,” he said and shrugged. “Man-steak. A beef slab.”

“More like pot roast. No, I was too busy to really look for myself, but I’m all right. I don’t feel the urge to date anyone these days.”

“I know what you mean. I keep telling myself it’s just because I got myself hurt, but it’s been a year. It can’t be that. I’m just … I don’t know. Content, I guess. I wouldn’t turn down the prospect, if it arose. But I’m not trying to hunt it down, if that makes sense.”

“Perfect sense. Everyone wants companionship, you know? But I don’t want to waste my time. I’m twenty-five and I already feel like I’m too old for that shit.”

He chuckled. “So true.”

The cab pulled up in front of our building, and Tyler paid him. I’d learned long ago not to protest — it was a fight I’d lose. He’d forced my feminist soul into accepting his chivalry. What made my feminist soul really twitchy was that I enjoyed it.

“So, what’d you think of Martin?” he asked as we made our way inside.

“He’s nice,” was all I could muster.

He looked down at me, raising a brow. “That bad?”

I shrugged. “He’d make a perfectly wonderful boyfriend for somebody.”

“But not Bayleigh.” We climbed the stairs.

“Bayleigh’s got a thing for Greg.”

“Really?” he asked. “Because she sure did spend a lot of time talking to Martin tonight.”

“She was just working the crowd, that’s all. It’s part of her job, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just saying that it seemed to me there was a little something there, that’s all.”

“Maybe for him,” I pressed.

“Maybe,” he answered noncommittally and let it go.

We fell into content silence, quiet and weary from the long night, dreading the morning that would inevitably come too soon. At least I’d get to sleep in a little, which reminded me to set the coffee for him so he’d still have it when he woke.

He unlocked the door, held it open for me, locked it safely behind me. We moved through the apartment in automatic motions — first changing, then into the bathroom to brush our teeth, side by side, taking turns at the sink. I set up the coffee for the next morning as he turned off the lights. And we parted ways outside my door with smiles and promises to see each other in the morning.

But once my door was closed and I lay in bed, my thoughts teetered between plotting how to get Tyler and Adrienne together, all while fighting the urge to keep them apart, which was silly. Because they could be perfect for each other. And Tyler … he deserved someone like her.

GATEKEEPER MEETS KEYMASTER

Tyler

THE NEXT MORNING WAS RUSHED after my snooze a few too many times. I wondered as I poured the coffee Cam set up for me whether or not I was getting too old to try to work a full day on only five hours of sleep, which I thought was a really old thing to wonder.

I hurried to work in a haze, and when I got there, Cathy already had a stack of messages for me to sort through, including calling Jack. None of the work I had looked easy — nearly all of them were going to be demanding answers I didn’t have.

But God bless Cathy. She kept my coffee fresh and full all day, managed the flood of calls and emails, kept the deluge just outside my office door.

Jack had gotten Pharaoh out of jail, and he’d issued a statement looking sorry and penitent. He’d received a six-game suspension with no pay and said during that time, he’d be going to rehab for his drinking. He said it was a mistake, one he’d learned from, one that had humbled him.

I, for one, knew that was utter bullshit. Pharaoh was out for himself first and foremost — he’d proven time and time again, on the field and off, that he didn’t really care. But this move was probably going to save him his career, and for that, I was grateful he’d rolled over. I just hoped he calmed down for good. Knowing Jack, he’d sat the kid down and told him exactly how it was. That we would terminate his contract if he didn’t get it together. That if he didn’t leave the aggression on the field, he was going to send his career down the drain. It was up to him to keep himself in check.

And today, it was up to me to save his sponsorships.

It was another long day, full of tense phone calls and emails, messages with Jack, organizing everything to sustain the weekend. By the end of it all, I was exhausted and ready for a drink, finding comfort in the knowledge that I’d be seeing Cam, looking forward to telling her about how the day had been. I was packing up when Cathy buzzed me.

“I’ve got a call from Adrienne Christie on line one.”

“Thanks, Cathy.” I picked up the phone and hit the line, wondering if it was a business or personal call. “Good afternoon, Ms. Christie.”

“Same to you, Mr. Knight,” she said, the all-business Adrienne back in action, though she sounded softer than yesterday. “I just wanted to give you a quick call to touch base about Pharaoh. I saw the press release today. So far, the news cycle has been receptive to his announcement about rehab, so congratulations on that. If you’d asked me twenty-four hours ago if Jack could have turned this around, I probably would have laughed.”

“I probably would have too,” I said with a smile and leaned back in my seat.

“Well, I’m glad the heat’s been turned down a little, even though it’s still the top discussion point on every sports media outlet. At least now they’re all talking about how heartfelt he is and wishing him luck in rehab instead of his general misbehavior in the NFL.”

“Anything to detract from that,” I joked.

She chuckled. “Jack did well, and so did you. Barring any unforeseen circumstance, his sponsorship should be safe.”

“That’s a relief. Thank you, Adrienne.”

“You’re welcome.” She paused for a second. “Listen, Tyler — I know it’s unprofessional to ask you this, but I was going to meet some friends for happy hour tonight and wanted to know if you were free.”

I blinked, surprised. But before I even considered accepting, a response left my mouth. “Thanks for the invitation, but I’m meeting Cam at Wasted Words tonight. Raincheck?”

“Yeah, of course,” she said, though she didn’t fully cover her disappointment. “Sure. I’m sorry to put you on the spot like that.”

“You didn’t,” I lied, turning the conversation back to work. “I’ll give you a call on Monday and we can see how the weekend treated Pharaoh.”

“Absolutely. And maybe I can cash that raincheck in soon.”

“Just say the word.”

“All right.” I could hear her smiling. “Thanks, Tyler.”

“Have a great weekend, Adrienne.”

I hung the phone on the cradle and stared at it.

I’d just been asked out by a beautiful, successful woman who I got along well with, someone whose company I enjoyed, and I couldn’t figure out why I’d opted to go to a book bar to hang out with my roommate.

Maybe it was because I hadn’t dated in a while. Maybe I was gun-shy. Off the horse too long. But deep down I knew it was more than that.

On paper, Adrienne and I made sense. There was no reason to refuse her, and even Cam was on board. I thought back to last night and the conversation she and I had about Adrienne. Cam was insistent and determined — I could see it in her eyes, she wanted me to date Adrienne. She saw it as a good match, and maybe it was, but I wasn’t really interested.

I’d rather be a bar fly alone.

No, not alone. With Cam.

My soul staggered as I sat at my desk in my office, damp palms on the cool surface.

Cam and Adrienne were nothing alike, and I realized that was part of the reason I found myself seeking Cam’s company. She was my friend, the person who I told almost everything. I found comfort in her, the familiarity, the realness of her. I knew her, and she knew me, the real me, and that was all she ever asked for.

It was in the mundane moments that I noticed her. It was watching her read, curled up on the couch with her face reflecting whatever emotion she read. It was seeing that same face all scrunched up, tongue poking from between her rosy lips as she kicked my ass at Smash Brothers. The disappointment in her big, brown eyes when another book failed to capture my attention.

But she wasn’t interested. I mean, sometimes she looked at me like those sides of beef we’d joked about last night, but I didn’t think anything of it. She was attracted to me too, but that was it. Just physical.

Wasn’t it?

I didn’t have a shot with her — I wasn’t her type. She’d said it a thousand times. But that didn’t stop us from being friends. It didn’t stop me from wanting to hang out with her. It didn’t stop me from watching her make coffee, or stretch in those little shorts she wore to bed, all the while thinking about her body against mine.

I wondered, and not for the first time, if she would ever date me. If she’d let me kiss her. If she’d kiss me back.

No, I told myself.

She’d only shoot me down, and it could ruin our friendship, put some weird juju on us that would just make living with her incredibly awkward. Not that I couldn’t handle the rejection — I’d been rejected plenty, and for a number of reasons. But rejection from Cam would be different. It wouldn’t be so easy as the others, and some of them were a level of hell I didn’t typically care to discuss.

It was then that I decided I’d hit the gym hard to clear my head and then stay home tonight. Or maybe I’d call Kyle, blow off some steam. Either way, space seemed like a smart move, and as I packed up my things, I wondered whether I was right or wrong.

Cam

Greg smiled at me from across the bar when I walked in that evening. The happy hour crowd was going strong, and I made my way around the back of the bar to jump in and help him and Beau out, happy to be busy after a long day reading and laying around like a fat-assed cat. The most productive thing I’d done was bake cookies, but I negated my productiveness by eating half of them.

I’m not telling how many dozens I made. A girl’s got to have her secrets.

Once we had the bar under control, we made our way down the line, making sure everything was stocked, wiping down the surfaces while Beau headed to the back with racks of pint and rocks glasses to send through the dishwasher. Greg and I stood at the dish wells to catch up on the more delicate wine and martini glasses as Greg washed and I rinsed, and I smiled over at him.

“How’d it go last night?”

He shrugged. “Fine. We made good money, locked it up tight.”

“Get Bayleigh home all right?”

“Yeah, she lives close by, so it was no big deal.” He smiled that winning smile of his, his tattooed arms dunked in the soapy water.

I smiled back, picturing the two of them together. “It was really great of you to offer. She’s so adorable.”

He chuckled. “She is. A real sweetheart.”

“Hey, you’re one to talk. You guys are two of the best people we have working here, no lie.”

“Is that why you schedule us together all the time?” he asked with a brow up and a smirk on his lips.

I smirked right back. “One reason.”

He laughed and handed me a glass.

“I bet the crowd last night ate up your costumes last night. Cool that you guys matched.”

“I’m sure it didn’t hurt the tip jar one bit. Though I don’t know if I’ll wear a full spandex bodysuit again.”

“Aww,” I said with a laugh. “But the ladies sure loved it. I’m thinking I should have you, Beau, and Harrison all work a shift dressed up as Spiderman, Superman, and Batman. Beau’s got the hair for it, I bet it’d even make that little curly-cue in the front. I’m a thousand percent sure we could all make a killing.”

“So, bookstore, bar, and strip club?”

“Hey, who said anything about stripping? I’m talking about covering you head to toe in beautiful, breathable spandex.”

He laughed. “It was fun. There were a few Mary Jane’s in the crowd who wanted pictures. Bayleigh was the only Gwen.”

“Well, she’s one of a kind.”

“And Harley Quinn took a picture hammering my ass.”

I snorted.

“Your roommate’s costume was great, too. Original to go for Steve Rogers over the full-on Cap.”

“It was his idea,” I said as I took another glass from him and rinsed it off.

One brow rose. “Really?”

“No. But it was his idea to make a shield out of a trashcan lid.”

He snickered, but the crowed had lined up again, and before I knew it, a few hours had passed. The Friday night rush was bumping at Wasted Words, and I scanned the crowd, looking for Tyler. He should have already been there, but he was nowhere to be seen, so as soon as there was a lull in work, I pulled out my phone to text him.

But I found a text from him.

Hey, I’m exhausted from last night and a long day. I’m just gonna hang here, but maybe I’ll see you tonight, if you’re home before I crash. If not, tomorrow is college ball, which means you’re mine, all day. Have a good shift.

My heart did an awkward backflip, and I read the line again. You’re mine, all day.

Then, I freaked out.

What the hell did he mean his? He said it like he was talking about my heart or my soul or my vagina. Maybe all three. My thighs squeezed together at the thought. I mean, we watched football every Saturday that he wasn’t traveling, so of course I’d be there. Of course we’d be together. But his?

I don’t doubt that anyone attracted to the Y chromosome would oppose to being his for any length of time. An hour. Several weeks. Life. Whatever.

I’d be the last person to complain. I cared about Tyler a lot, maybe even more than I was willing to admit. I made the mistake of letting myself really consider it for the first time, but I didn’t get very far before the memory of Will blazed through me. I shrank away from the thought.

Familiar anxiety bloomed in my chest, and I took a breath to steel myself.

I had always been a floater in high school, not belonging to any clique, though not what you’d call a loner either. I was enough of an extrovert to be comfortable in most social situations, friends with everyone and no one, a quirky installment in the school. I was the girl who wore and acted upon and said what she wanted, gaining me the simultaneous freedom and isolation I’d earned.

Sophomore year, I was placed in AP physics with the seniors. I’m generally pretty unflappable, but being in that class with all of the older kids was intimidating, and being partnered for the year with Will Mercer did nothing to help that.

Will was that legendary guy everyone knew and loved, from the band nerds to the cheerleaders and everyone in between. He was always nominated for something — student council president, homecoming court, basketball awards, and he honestly seemed like one of the nice guys, the kind who didn’t seem to take advantage of their status for personal gain, which made him all that more appealing.

It started off innocently enough. He didn’t have a girlfriend at the time — his on-again, off-again relationship with Kenzie Schroeder was, at the time, in the off position. We worked well together, made easy by his charming conversation and our mutual interests of sports and comics. He was smart — smart and beautiful and funny — and over the course of the first few months of the school year, our chatting and laughter turned into looks that burned and lingered, full of something deeper than I could grasp, at the time. All that I knew was that every day, that fifty-five-minute class was what I lived for and longed after.

We were deep into fall when I found myself sitting next to him at his kitchen table, working on a project. When I looked up to speak to him, I found him just watching me, his face soft, and I froze when he leaned in and kissed me.

He wasn’t my first kiss, but his was the first that I felt from the tip of my nose down to my toes.

I remembered his smile, so strong, begging for my trust. I remembered his warm hand on my cheek and his lips against mine, even now, even years later.

Every day I was at his house, every day kissing him, every day in his arms. At school, we kept our distance, passing furtive glances at each other in the hall, his hand brushing mine in class. But when we were in his room in the quiet afternoons, there was nothing between us. No walls, no rules, just him and I, our hearts. We spent hours talking, kissing, holding each other. And then I decided I didn’t want to hold back. I wanted to let go. So I gave myself to him.

He was gentle and sweet, every touch full of worship, taking his time with me, knowing I was a virgin. It was the first time I’d given anyone my heart, and I believed he would care for it — his eyes and lips told me so.

Afterward, I lay in his arms, and he whispered promises. He asked me to be his date for homecoming, asked me to be his. But I already was, and I told him so.

I left his house that day feeling like I could fly. The rest of my night was spent looking for a dress for the dance, and I lay in bed that night, staring at my ceiling with a smile on my face as I daydreamed about every moment of the day that had been, of the nights to come, of the time between, of holding his hand down the halls and being kissed at my locker.

The next morning, I was still high, choosing my outfit carefully, taking a little time on my hair, even wearing mascara and a little lip gloss. I wanted to look good for him, worthy of standing next to him, and I was filled with hope and nerves at the thought of seeing him again.

Nothing prepared me for what happened when I did.

I’d been beaming as I walked the busy hall before the bell rang — I could feel the warmth in my cheeks and the light in my eyes. He was tall enough that I caught sight of him easily, my heart flipping when I did. And then my stomach flipped, and both landed in my shoes.

His arm was slung on Kenzie’s shoulder, and he was looking down at her, laughing at something she’d said. He looked at her like he’d looked at me just the day before, and I wondered if it had all been a dream.

They stopped at her locker, and he pressed her up against it and kissed her, just like I’d imagined he would do to me. Except she wasn’t me.

I didn’t realize I’d stalled in the hallway, classmates streaming around me like I was a stone in the river, and my eyes locked on Will as my chest burned with hurt and shame.

He looked up and saw me, his smile slipping away when our eyes met.

I sucked in a breath before I turned and bolted.

I wound my way through people, eyes blurring with tears, needing air, needing sky, needing out of the building where I felt like I’d be crushed and crumbled if I’d stayed.

I heard him behind me, but I didn’t stop, not until I was under the bleachers. I didn’t want him to see me cry, didn’t want him to see me at all, didn’t want him to know he’d hurt me. But it was no use.

His eyes were so sad when I turned to face him, the pain evident when he apologized. He wasn’t thinking when he asked me, he’d said. We would never work, he told me. He said it didn’t matter how much he liked me or how much I liked him — we were too different, from different worlds, and how could people who weren’t alike work out? Plus, he and Kenzie were both nominated for homecoming court and had a better chance of winning if they were together.

That moment was the first time I’d ever felt like I didn’t know him at all. So I looked up at him with my eyes full of tears and heart busted in a thousand pieces and told him he was right. That it was my mistake because I’d thought we were a lot more alike than we actually were.

He hugged me, whispering apologies before he kissed my hair and walked away.

For a long time, I sat under the bleachers and cried. I’d been stupid, so stupid and short-sighted. How could I have thought he’d really wanted to be with me? His words had been empty, meaningless, but I’d believed every one. I thought it was real, but I was a fool. He’d betrayed me. And for what?

I’d given him everything, and he took it with no intention of giving himself to me.

So with a broken heart, I sat there in the cool dirt under the shade of the bleachers and wrote a list of rules while I waited on my face to stop looking like a puffed up raspberry. And those rules were something I still lived by.

1) Know who you’re dealing with and put them on their shelf.

2) Don’t date anyone not on your shelf.

3) When something seems too good to be true, it probably is.

And follow the rules I did, even though following them meant that I was lonely. I went back to being friends with everyone and no one, not caring, or pretending not to care. I asked for a new lab partner and endured the year of classes with Will, doing my best not to meet his eyes when he would watch me from across the room. And every time I saw Will and Kenzie in the halls or the cafeteria, a little piece of me squeezed and hardened to bolster myself against the hurt.

By the time I went to college, I was solidly detached, dating guys from my shelf, and only from my shelf. Some were great guys, guys I could have been really happy with, but they weren’t it for me. I didn’t feel like it was a matter of trust, but who knows how it really was, because from the inside, I was likely too blind to see.

Tyler should be with someone like Adrienne, not someone like me. My guts twisted at the thought of him with her, and I realized it was the first time since I’d known him that he’d had a prospect I felt could be real. But my feelings for Tyler didn’t mean anything. I’d put them aside a thousand times if it meant he could be happy.

He’d meant the text message to be taken only as a friend — it all of a sudden seemed ludicrous I would have thought it would be any other way. That he would require my undivided friend attention for the day so we could talk shit and kid around. Not that he’d never say something like that to his guy friends like Kyle or he’d end up with a meaty fist in his pie hole.

No, I was just reading too much into it, that was all. Just thinking a little too far out of the box.

And as if I needed a sign, I looked up and found Adrienne and Sarah taking seats right in front of me.

“Hey,” I said, approaching the bar, willing my heart to slow as I tossing coasters in front of them. One said, Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why. - Kurt Vonnegut, and the other said, Every blessing ignored becomes a curse. - Paulo Coelho. “Didn’t expect to see you ladies again so soon.”

Adrienne smiled, her dark cheeks flushing. “Us either. We were actually at another bar but decided to swing by.” She glanced around hopefully. “Is, ah, Tyler here?”

She’s perfect for him. They’ll be perfect together. Now, take no mercy. I smiled, feeling better at the prospect of setting him up, certain I’d feel eve better than that once they were together and happy. “I think he’s coming up here in a bit. Let me hit him up. What are you ladies drinking?”

“Whiskey sour for me,” Adrienne said.

“Same,” Sarah added with a smile.

I poured quietly, composing my message to him in my head, and the first second I got, I shot off a text.

If you haven’t taken your bra off yet, you should come up here. Adrienne just showed up asking about you, and she looks amazing. Like, ah-maz-ing.

The dots bounced as he typed out a response. Too late. I’m already free and clear of all underwear. And then he sent a shrug emoji.

Come on. She came all the way down here looking for you. So hitch up your knickers and get down here, Knight.

Dots again. Then they stopped. A pause, then they started and stopped again for another pause. The next time they bounced, they didn’t stop.

Can’t leave a pretty girl at the bar all alone. Give me a bit and I’ll be over.

Did he mean me? I shook the thought away, almost laughing out loud, wondering what had gotten into me. Of course he didn’t mean me. He’d never mean me.

Atta boy. See you soon.

I smiled as I slipped my phone back into my pocket, applauding myself for having put everything back to rights. His weirdly invigorating text went unaddressed, and he was on his way down here to hopefully ask out a pretty girl who wasn’t me. Everything was right in the world.

“He’s on his way,” I said.

Adrienne lit up, eyes sparkling and smile bright. “Oh, good. I hope it’s not weird that I’m here — he just mentioned he’d be here tonight and thought I’d stop in and say hi.”

I shrugged and joked, “I mean, it’s a little creepy, but Tyler’s not easily spooked.”

She laughed, and the sound was disarming. For a high-powered ad representative for Nike, she was nervous about Tyler. I took that as a solid sign that she was genuine. She was forward and honest, smart, and if what I’d heard from Sarah was true, she was one of the good ones in the world.

“So,” I started, fishing for more information, “you talked to Tyler today?”

“Just for work. I sort of asked him to come out, but he said he had plans to be here. After last night, I thought we hit it off, and he seems like a great guy.”

“The best,” I said with a smile as I leaned on the bar.

“And he doesn’t have a girlfriend, right?”

“Nope, no girlfriend.” I smirked. “Looking to fill the spot?”

Her lips were red, curling into a smile. “I think I am. The thing is, I’m a Type A kind of girl — I’m not afraid to go after what I want, you know? People play dating games: wait three days to call or text, don’t look desperate, blah, blah, blah.” She waved her hand as if to wipe the construct away. “But I don’t play games. I want to get to know him better, so that’s what I’m going to try to do. Hopefully I don’t come on too strong — that’s a problem for me sometimes,” she said with a chuckle.

Sarah laughed too. “I call her the Badass Honey Badger.”

“I can relate,” I said, amused. “Well, you came to the right place. I’m his gatekeeper.”

She chuckled. “So is this an interview to see if I’m the keymaster?”

I snickered. “Well, you just won major points for a Ghostbusters reference, so you’re well on your way to securing the job. This is your second interview, by the way — the first was last night.”

“And how’d I do?”

I smiled, admiring her for so many reasons. “Real well.”

“Well, hit me with your best shot,” she said as she leaned on the bar.

“All right.” My smile faded into seriousness. “Grape or strawberry jelly?”

She laughed. “Strawberry.”

I nodded. “Good choice. Unicorns — yes or no?”

“I’m a believer.” She raised her glass.

“Whiskey or vodka?”

“Depends on what night of the week it is,” she said before taking a sip of her drink.

I snickered. “Last long-term relationship.”

She swallowed, voice a little tighter when she answered. “David. We dated for three years, broke up because he was fucking someone else.”

“Cold. So, no stranger to heartbreak, huh?”

She shrugged. “What doesn’t kill us, right?”

I watched her for a moment, wondering if I could have crafted a more ideal girl for Tyler. “I like you, Adrienne.”

She smiled in a way that made me believe, all the way down deep to my gut, that she was genuine. “I like you too, Cam.”

“If you hurt him, I’ll rip your face off, even though you could probably crush me with your thighs. Just know I’m a fast runner.”

Adrienne chuckled. “I won’t hurt him. I promise. I don’t play games, remember?”

“I believe you.”

Greg flagged me from the other end of the bar, nodding to the crowd of chicks who had lined up in front of him.

“Be back when I can. Keep an eye out for Tyler for me. And Adrienne?”

“Yeah?”

I smiled. “Congratulations. You’re in.”

She laughed as I walked away, feeling as sure of myself as I did uneasy.

CHRIST ON A BIKE

Tyler

I DIDN’T FEEL ANY LESS confused as I made my way to Wasted Words, still sifting through my thoughts for answers. I’d turned down a date with Adrienne for Cam, if I was being honest with myself, and then Cam pressured me to come to the bar with the intent to convince me to ask Adrienne out.

I shook my head as I crossed the street, having opted to walk again to give me more time alone. Nothing made sense, not my feelings about Cam or my feelings about Cam trying to set me up with someone else. But she’d made it clear once more that she wasn’t interested in me at all. I just hated that it bothered me so much.

When I walked into the bar, I spotted Adrienne and Sarah, sitting across from Cam. When Cam looked up and saw me, her content smile spoke to my heart — it was a smile that knew me. And then Adrienne turned and smiled — hers was a smile that wanted me.

I only wished her smile had been on Cam’s face instead.

I took a deep breath, putting on a smile of my own as I greeted the women and took a seat in the empty seat next to Adrienne. Cam didn’t ask what I wanted, just poured me a beer and set it in front of me, sending me an encouraging smile before walking away to keep Sarah company.

Adrienne shifted in her seat next to me, tucking her hair behind her ear. She looked amazing, as Cam had said — a denim shirt unbuttoned low, tight black jeans, and suede flats. Her lips were red, lashes long as she looked up at me.

“I feel like I shouldn’t have surprised you like this.”

I smiled, not wanting her to feel unsure of herself. It was almost unsettling that someone so strong could be so nervous. “I love a good surprise.”

“Not me. I actually hate surprises. Once, I actually punched my ex-boyfriend when he walked me into a surprise party.”

A laugh burst out of me. “Wow, I bet nobody saw that coming.”

“He definitely didn’t. It was just my first reaction. Wham, right in the cheek. It hurt like a son of a bitch, too.”

“Did the party end up happening?”

“Yeah. I felt better once I had a drink, and Dave was fine too, other than being a spectacular baby about it, whining and looking at it in the mirror for days,” she said and took a drink.

I laughed again, comfortably amused.

Adrienne turned to angle herself toward me as she leaned a little on the bar. “Really, though. I hope it’s not weird that I came. I just couldn’t stop thinking about you after last night, and I wanted to get to know you a little better. See if there’s more to it, if you were interested.”

She was so forward, and in a way that would have normally caught me off guard, but there was something so honest about the admission that I found myself charmed. But I didn’t answer right away, glancing at Cam, who gave me a reassuring smile.

Adrienne was still watching me, smiling. “You can say no, Tyler. I sprung this on you pretty hard, even after getting shot down this afternoon.”

I chuckled. “Hey, I didn’t shoot you down. I just had plans, that’s all.”

She picked up her drink, hanging it between her fingers. “If you say so. Felt kind of like a shoot-down, but I’m nothing if not persistent. How do you think I beat out three of the best reps in the business for my job?”

I turned to her, mirroring her, leaning on the bar. “Persistence is an admirable quality. Being determined is how you get what you want out of life.”

Her face softened. “Football lesson?”

I nodded. “But it’s relevant to all of life, I’ve found. Just as important as knowing when to let go.” I took a drink. “So what did Cam say about me before I got here?”

“Oh, well, she interviewed me.”

I smirked, shaking my head. “Of course she did. Did she give you too hard of a time?”

“Not at all. She had some very important questions for me, like if I was a grape or strawberry jelly kind of girl.”

“How’d you answer?”

“Strawberry. Anything else is blasphemy.”

I laughed, in part because Cam really was that good in the matchmaking department — strawberry was my favorite to win the great jelly debate too.

Adrienne watched me, smiling with her lips sealed and eyes bright. “Go on a date with me, Tyler Knight.”

“I thought I was supposed to be asking you out?” I smiled, though discomfort had settled in.

She shrugged. “I’m a girl who knows what I want, and I want to have dinner with you.”

She watched me with big, brown eyes, waiting for an answer with her long, dark fingers around her drink. After a second, her red lips curled into a smile.

“Come on, Knight. Do I have to beg? I’m not above it.”

But my eyes darted to Cam who stood at the tap, pouring a beer in jean shorts and a flannel, smiling across the bar at a girl she was pouring for.

“What do you have to lose?”

Nothing. Everything. I looked back to Adrienne. She was sexy and fun, and I actually did like her, a lot. But I didn’t want her like I felt like I should.

On the other hand, I trusted Cam to know what I didn’t, what I couldn’t. She saw something there, and Adrienne seemed like a great girl.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Maybe I’d have a great time, get my head back in the game. It was just a date, one that Cam sanctioned. Maybe her intuition would serve us well. Maybe some magic would happen like it did for so many of the matches Cam made.

So I took a breath and made a decision with a smile. “I’d love to take you to dinner, Adrienne. Just say when.”

And her smile widened even more, face glowing when she answered, “When.”

Cam

I didn’t have much time to hang out once Tyler showed up, and I counted it as a blessing, not wanting to get in the way. They chatted for a long while before Sarah and Adrienne left, but it was late by that time, and Tyler was dead in his seat from his long day without a full night’s sleep. I tried to send him home, but he wouldn’t leave without me, which meant he kept drinking to keep himself occupied. So once the rush died down and Beau and Greg could handle the end of the night, I clocked out and grabbed him by the arm to get him into bed.

We stepped out into the cool night, and I zipped up my hoodie, stepping to the curb to look for a cab, but Tyler stopped me.

“Let’s walk. It’s so nice tonight.” He smiled crookedly at me, his lids a little heavy.

I laughed. “It’s cold and you’re drunk. Let’s just grab a cab.”

“I’m not that drunk. You want my sweatshirt?” he asked earnestly and started stripping.

“No, I don’t want you to be cold,” I chuckled and stopped him.

“Come on. It’s only twenty minutes. Let’s just walk. Please?” He made a puppy dog face and begged.

I sighed, unable to deny him. “All right.”

He had this big goofy grin on his face as we started walking down Broadway toward our building, and I couldn’t help but smile too, content and happy with him. I didn’t want to talk about Adrienne, even though I knew I should, and I struggled with the thought that something I’d normally be dying to hear all the gory details about was the last thing I wanted to bring up.

A guy who looked like Jesus rode by on a bike, both man and machine covered in blinking Christmas lights, and we watched him, waving.

He didn’t wave back.

“New York is weird,” Tyler said.

“So weird and awesome. We just saw Christ on a bike. You don’t get that kind of entertainment in Walnut.”

He laughed. “I mean, maybe at a college party in Lincoln, but not just walking home for sure.”

“How much do you miss home?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes worse than others. I mean, I could take or leave Lincoln itself, but I miss my sisters, my parents more than anything.”

“I wish I’d had a big family like you. Being an only child was kind of boring. I had to make my own fun.”

“Having three little sisters was mostly a pain. There was a lot of squabbling over important things like hair brushes and who was sitting where in the car. But man, I miss them. They’ve mellowed out some now that they’re older. Like, I never thought Meg and I would be as close as we are. Before high school, my parents had the hopeless job of making sure we didn’t murder each other.”

I laughed and stuffed my hands in my hoodie pockets.

“Dad always made pancakes on Sundays. Of course, you cook for me now, and you’re a way better cook than he is.” We stepped off the curb and crossed the empty street.

“Hey, you cook for me too.”

“Eggs don’t count as cooking.” He sighed. “I dunno. My family and I just used to spend a lot of time together, and it’s weird sometimes that I’m not a part of that like I used to be. But I couldn’t stay there, and not just because Jack offered me a job. Too many memories I can’t shake live in that town.”

His words were somber, and I hooked my arm in his, squeezing it in lieu of a real hug.

“Anyway,” he continued, perking up a little, “it’ll be good to go home next weekend and see everybody. Get my fill of Dad’s pancakes. What are you gonna do when I’m gone?”

“Oh, I dunno. Probably mope around, contemplate how I could ever survive without you.”

He looked down at me, grinning again as he booped my nose. “It’s true. You can’t live without me.”

I ignored the flush in my cheeks and laughed. “It’s true, but neither could you. Do you even remember how to make coffee?”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “It’s not rocket science, Cam.”

“No, but you’d be late every day if you had to make it yourself.”

“That’s probably true,” he conceded. “How’s it going with Greg and Bayleigh?”

I caught a hint of disdain in his voice. “Fine. He walked her home last night and told me all about it.”

“He kiss her?” Tyler asked skeptically.

“Not yet.”

“So, no.” He was smirking again.

I made a face at him, and he laughed.

“You look like a cartoon character.”

“Bullwinkle?”

“Ha, ha. No, you look like a character in a Pixar movie. Giant eyes, tiny nose, big smile. And you make all these little faces. Like when you’re concentrating, you stick the tip of your tongue out, but always on the right side. Never the left.”

I laughed, feeling self-conscious. “Must be my critical brain at work.”

His nose wrinkled. “Wouldn’t that mean it would always stick out the left? That’s the logic side, right?”

“Yeah, but when information crosses the hemisphere, it reverses sides. That’s why super right-brained people are sometimes left-handed. Or that’s the rumor, at least.”

“See? And you’re smart, too. You’re so busy matching everyone up, but how come you haven’t found a match for yourself?”

I took a breath. “Because it’s easier to see everybody else’s connections. Mine’s too muddled by my own perspective.”

He made a noncommittal noise. “Adrienne’s nice,” he said out of nowhere, and my heart jolted.

“She is nice. I like her.”

“She likes you too.” He didn’t elaborate, but I could almost hear him thinking. I took the pause as an opening.

“You guys looked good together. I told you it was a good match.”

“You know best.”

I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, so I made light of it so there would be no question. “I do. I’m glad there’s no question on the matter or I’d bust out my list of conquests.”

He laughed. “So instead of a little black book—”

“I have a little pink notebook. And scrapbooks with engagement announcements and wedding invitations.”

“Not to brag.”

“Who, me? Never.”

He smiled down at me again as we walked up to the building, though when he reached for the door, his lips stretched in a yawn.

I sighed and walked in. “You shouldn’t have waited for me tonight.”

He gave me a look as we headed to the stairs. “Like I was going to let you walk home alone.”

“I only walked because you insisted, Drunky McTankerson. I would have taken a cab.”

He chuffed. “Not safe. You need muscle.” He made a tough guy face and flexed.

“Easy, boy. No need to break out the gun show for little ol’ me.”

The grin was back as he stripped off his sweatshirt. “Psh, now they’re really getting unfurled.” He stopped on the landing and gnashed his teeth, flexing his arms in front of him like a bodybuilder.

I laughed until my face was contorted as he hammed it up, changing positions.

“Yeah, you like that?” He shifted, making a show of it. “How about that?” He moved again, and I have to admit, it wasn’t easy to keep my eyes off his biceps. “And a little of this?”

“I’ve seen this show, beefcake. Remember you walk out of the shower every single day in nothing but a towel?”

We walked up to the door, and his smile was as sideways as his mental state. “Yeah, I’ve seen you looking. You’re a fan of the gun show. Free admission.”

“Oh, my God,” I said, giggling and rolling my eyes to play off the flutter in my chest. “You’re so drunk.”

I swung at his chest playfully, but he grabbed my hand, all of a sudden dead serious, his eyes dark. I didn’t realize how close we were, and I looked up at him, stunned silent.

“I’m not that drunk, Cam.” The words were barely above a whisper, and I couldn’t breathe.

He was about to kiss me.

I laughed awkwardly and way too loud as I took a step back. “Yeah, you are. Super drunk. Open the door, nerd.”

He smiled, but it took a moment for him to erase the look that had been in his eyes. My heart was still racing from the adrenaline of it as I watched him unlock the door.

We didn’t say much once we made it inside, just went through our routine of changing and brushing our teeth, joking when we did speak. I didn’t want to be serious, didn’t want to think about what had just happened. He was just drunk, that was all, probably caught up in the fact that I was ogling his bod. He knew I thought he was attractive, it was just the energy of that, nothing more. I was sure of it.

I poured him a glass of water and grabbed him a couple of ibuprofen, finding him climbing into his bed, shirtless, with a thump.

I smiled as I approached his bed, handing him the pills and water, and he smiled back gratefully before knocking them back. He set the glass on his nightstand as I fussed with his covers.

“Maybe I was wrong.”

“About what?” I asked absently as I pulled his blanket up over him.

“About you being able to live without me.”

“Oh?”

He met my eyes, saying gently, “Maybe it’s me who can’t live without you.”

I turned out his light so he couldn’t see my face — I wasn’t sure what expression I wore. And all I could do was laugh and say playfully, and maybe a little patronizingly, “Goodnight, Tyler.”

He sighed in the darkness and answered, “Night, Cam.”

And I made my way to my room, slipping into bed as I wondered how life could be so cruel.

INFALLIBLE

Cam

THE STEADY HUM OF THE crowd filtered into the kitchen from the TV as I pulled the fundido out of the oven. The cheese and tomatoes bubbled around chorizo, and I swear to God, I actually salivated when the smell of the dip hit my nose.

“Incoming,” I said as I made my way into the living room, setting the small cast iron skillet on the trivet next to the chips and salsa we’d been nibbling on.

Tyler didn’t take his eyes off the TV, just muttered, “No. What the hell are you doing? Throw it! Throw it!”

The quarterback was sacked.

He rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air. “This,” he gestured to the screen, “is why A&M won’t make the playoffs this year. Their passing game just isn’t strong enough to compete.”

I snorted and sat down next to him, leaning in to dip a chip in the cheesy mess. “Getting sacked by Purdue tells me they’ve got bigger issues, like lack of a decent offensive line. He didn’t have a receiver to throw it to.” I took a bite and moaned.

Tyler huffed and changed the channel to put on a different game. “I don’t think I can watch any more of this. It hurts too bad.” He landed on the Tennessee-Georgia game and tossed the remote on the table, leaning forward to dig into the dip beside me. He moaned when he took a bite too. The sound gave me a deep feeling of satisfaction.

“You ready for next weekend?” I asked. “I’m kinda sad you’re going to have to witness the Huskers getting shucked by the Hawkeyes.”

He snickered. “Not a chance, Cam. You guys are gonna get ruined. There’s not a single defensive lineman for the Hawkeyes who can stop Darryl. He’s too fast.”

“No one’s infallible.”

“True, but Darryl’s the closest thing I’ve seen in a long time.” He tossed another chip in his mouth. “What’s cooking in there?” He nodded toward the kitchen.

“White chili for Mrs. Frank.”

“And us?” he asked hopefully.

I smiled. “And us.”

“I thought old people weren’t supposed to eat spicy stuff.”

“Not Mrs. Frank. I swear she makes the spiciest Bloody Marys I’ve ever tasted.”

He chuckled. “You going up there later?”

“Yeah, after the game. What are you doing tonight?” I stuffed a dip-slathered chip in my mouth.

“I’m going out with Adrienne,” he answered, something undecipherable in his voice.

Thankfully, I had a full mouth to keep me from giving myself away. You’re glad. It’s good. Best thing ever. They’re perfect together. Stop being weird, Cameron. I swallowed and took a long sip of my beer. “Good,” I said, sounding completely normal. “Where are you going?”

“Frenchie’s — it’s a French-American hipster bistro, or something. That’s what Adrienne said, at least. She asked me out.”

A laugh shot out of me. “I love that. She’s got some pretty serious lady-balls.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you like her. I don’t know when I became so dependent on your approval, but it really makes me feel better knowing you set it up.”

It was like last night hadn’t even happened. I wondered if I’d imagined the whole thing, him nearly kissing me, saying things I didn’t know how to take. He just sat there next to me, eyes on the screen, sipping his beer like everything was fine.

All I could do was pretend everything was just fine. So I swallowed hard and did just that.

“Well, I’m happy to set you up. After you brought home that Julia chick, I had to stop letting you make your own decisions on the matter. She was a mess.”

“She wasn’t that bad.”

My face was flat. “She laughed like a horse, and she called a soccer goal a touchdown.”

He laughed. “She could have been taught the proper terms.”

“Yeah, but you would have had to live with that laugh. And by proxy, I would have had to live with that laugh.”

He sat back on the couch smirking, and I tried not to pay attention to how his Huskers shirt stretched across his broad chest. “Oh, come on, Cam. You have to admit that your standards are high.”

“Well, someone has to keep them high. Otherwise you’d be dragging home girls who are all wrong for you.”

Tyler’s brow rose. “And what’s ‘all wrong’ for me?”

“Well,” I said, taking a sip of my beer to buy me a second, “if I didn’t monitor you, you’d be bringing home who knows what. Nerds. Short girls. Girls who aren’t into the things you’re into.”

He shrugged and took a swig of his own beer. “Far as I know, there is no right or wrong. I don’t really think about people like that. Categorized.”

“And that’s exactly why you need my help,” I said with a smile.

He laughed and shook his head. “If you say so, Cam.”

“So what do you really think of Adrienne?” I asked, morbidly curious, as if I was asking for something I shouldn’t know, like what color underwear she wore.

“She’s smart, interesting,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “We have a lot in common — not just in work, but she enjoys some of the things I do. Football. Law & Order.”

I giggled. “It’s like a crime-based soap opera.”

“Don’t mock my favorite show, snob. Anyway, seems like a good match, on paper, at least. We’ll see how it goes tonight.”

“You don’t seem overly enthusiastic.”

He raised a brow at me. “Well, what would make you feel better about it?”

I squirmed. “I dunno.” Not going. The logical part of my conscience punched the pouty part in the nose. “I’m excited to hear about it when you get home tonight.”

“Who says I’m coming home?” He waggled his brows, and I laughed, trying not to think about the actual possibility of that.

“Ugh, ew. It’s like thinking about my brother doing it,” I lied.

Wet blanket: thrown.

He looked a little hurt, though he covered it with mock offense. “I mean, I know I’m hideous and all, but way to bruise my ego.”

“Don’t even pretend like you don’t know you’re male model material, Tyler.”

He made a face. “But still. Your brother?”

I shrugged. “I never had a brother, so this is what I imagined it would feel like.” Minus the ladyboner I got every morning watching his exit from the shower, but I wasn’t telling him that. The fib seemed to have quieted him, and I felt better and worse.

“Hmm,” he said with a frown and trained his eyes on the TV, taking another pull of his beer.

“Oh!” I perked up a little. “So Bayleigh texted me, and guess what she said?”

“That she’s running away with Martin to Vegas?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Ha, ha. No. Greg almost kissed her in the liquor cage!” I bounced a little on the couch as I did John Travolta disco moves, even though I may have been embellishing about Greg — she signaled him, leaned in for it, but he ended up patting her on the arm. Like anything could be less romantic than a pat on the arm.

He frowned, brows drawn. “Hmm,” he said again.

“You’re not actually still banking on Martin, are you?” I asked.

“I dunno, Cam. I think he really likes her.”

Now I was frowning too. “Well, that’s kind of your fault, getting his hopes up like that when you knew she was into Greg.”

“I didn’t know she was into Greg — I only knew that you thought she should be into Greg. I’m going to disagree with you on this one, Cam. I watched them the other night and didn’t get a single hint that he was into her. Not one. But I did watch her and Martin, and I’ll tell you something, they didn’t look the same way as she and Greg did together.” He took a drink. “Not that I’m an expert or anything.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for him to get hurt.” I touched his arm, feeling cowed, hoping he knew I meant it.

He sighed. “No, I figured you didn’t. And anyway, it’s not like he’s really hurt, just has a thing for a girl who may or may not like him back.”

“Well,” I said cheerfully, “maybe I can find him someone too.”

“You realize it’s not your responsibility to matchmake the world, right? People have been handling it on their own for thousands of years before you.”

“But I’m so good at it,” I joked.

“Yeah. I guess you are. But did you ever think to give it up and leave people to their own devices?”

I shrugged, feeling a little foolish, a little meddlesome. The truth was that it kept me busy and fulfilled enough that I didn’t often consider the fact that I was alone. But rather than admit all that, I said, “It makes me feel good to bring other people to happiness. I find it satisfying.”

He looked at me with deep brown eyes, eyes that believed me and accepted me, even when I was presumptuous and proud. Eyes I could fall into, if I looked long enough.

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” he said.

“Good.” I smiled like it was all okay, like he didn’t affect me the way he did. “I hate arguing.”

“Liar.”

“Fair enough. But I hate arguing with you.”

“Liar.”

I laughed and punched him in the arm. He pretended it hurt, bless him, rubbing the spot my tiny hand smacked into his bicep. And then I settled into the couch next to Tyler, through the afternoon and into the evening, trying not to think about his date later or what it would mean. Trying to remind myself that he didn’t belong on my shelf. He belonged on the shelf with the Adrienne Christies of the world.

Night had fallen, and the game we were watching had all but ended when he finally hauled himself off the couch.

He yawned and stretched, arching his back a little. “Guess I should go get dressed. I’m picking Adrienne up in a half hour.”

“Ugh,” I groaned as I picked up the remnants of our afternoon munchies and beer. “It’s not fair. A girl can’t get ready in any less than an hour. That’s a plan and simple fact.”

“Not true. I’ve seen you get ready in ten minutes.”

I rolled my eyes. “I mean real girls.”

He didn’t respond, and when I looked up, he had a look on his face that I couldn’t place.

“What?” I asked.

He shook his head, breaking eye contact as he walked over to help me clean up. “You’re as real a girl as I’ve ever seen, Cam.” He reached for some beer bottles. “Here, let me help you with that,” he said before I could respond.

I waved him off, trying to will my heart to slow down. “I’ve got this. Go get ready for your hot date, mister.”

He scooped up beer bottles. “Too late. Already going.”

I chuckled and followed him into the kitchen, tossing beer bottles in the recycling before setting my armful of snacks down on the counter. Tyler turned on the water and picked up a sponge.

“Get out of here, Tyler. Go on!” I karate kicked him in the butt, and the bridge of my foot spanned one of his rock-hard ass cheeks.

He laughed and put up his hands. “Fine, fine. I don’t want you breaking any appendages trying to hurt me.”

“Ha, ha, tough guy.” I turned and made my way back into the living room as he headed toward his room.

By the time I’d cleared everything and had all but the fundido to deal with, he walked out of his room looking simply beautiful. His tailored shirt was light gray, sleeves cuffed just above his elbows, top button undone. Black pants and belt with a slate gray buckle that you couldn’t help but look at, even if it wasn’t anything special, just a small flash of metal around the line of his waist. He wore deep gray suede oxfords, and as they tread through the apartment and to the bathroom, I found myself frozen in place, watching him inspect his reflection through the frame of the bathroom door.

Something changed, shifted in that moment, and I realized I’d just covered up the fact that I cared about him in ways I wasn’t prepared to deal with. Maybe I’d been hiding the fact that I wanted him more deeply than the simple rules of attraction, knowing he could never really be mine.

Maybe I’d been wrong about everything.

He turned and caught me looking, smiling brightly as he made his way over to me, and I snapped back into action, grabbing the skillet and keeping my eyes on the remnants of the dip inside to avoid meeting his eyes.

“Don’t get into any trouble, you hear?” I said to my hands as I rounded up the dip with a spoon. “If Jack has to fly back to bail you out of jail, he’s not gonna be happy.”

He laughed as he scooped up his keys. “You wouldn’t bail me out?”

“Psh. I don’t have that kind of cash, Knight. Tell Adrienne I said hi.”

“All right, I will.”

I looked up, my hands stilling. “And Tyler?”

He was turned toward the door, his face angled back to look at me, eyes expectant.

“Have fun.” I smiled, lips closed, swallowing hard as I fought the feeling that I was sending him on a death march.

He smiled back, a crooked smile full of mirth. “Thanks, Cam.”

And with that, he was gone.

I looked into the cheese as if the configuration of sausage and tomatoes would tell my fortune like a soothsayer’s tea leaves. But I found no answers. So I sank into a chair at the table and ate it all out of spite.

Tyler

I left the apartment feeling like she’d had more to say — the sensation was so strong that I fought the urge to turn around and go back to talk to her. But Cam was Cam, and I was me. And she’d made it all too clear that the two of us were separate, even referring to me as her brother.

I shuddered at the thought. I had enough sisters to know for a fact that how I felt about Cam wasn’t even in the same universe.

On the walk to Adrienne’s apartment, I considered the last few days.

Last night I’d almost kissed Cam. I don’t know what had come over me. Maybe it was just being a little drunk, like I only needed a tiny break in my inhibitions to make a move. But she’d backed away. Laughed. Rejected me in the way only she could, in a way that didn’t hurt so much as it stung. All I could do about it was to pretend like it hadn’t happened, though I wished I had the courage to find that part of myself that wasn’t afraid and let it loose.

But she was her. I was me. And we weren’t together. She didn’t want me.

No, she wanted me to date Adrienne.

I puzzled over it all, tried to push it away and pump myself up for the date, but by the time I reached her apartment, I was still distracted, feeling distant, lost in my thoughts.

I should have been cheered by Adrienne’s smile. I should have appreciated the way she looked in the deep red dress she wore. I should have felt better when she hooked her arm in mine and we made our way to dinner.

But I didn’t.

Our salads had been carried away before she asked me if I was all right, and I took a sip of my wine, knowing I had to at least get my head straight enough to entertain her through dinner.

“I’m sorry. I’m fine.” I sat back in my chair, watching her across the flicker of the candle between us, doing my best at small talk. “Cam says you do cosplay?”

She smiled reassuringly. “I really just go because Sarah hates going alone. Too many creeps, she says. But it’s fun dressing up. She’s so into it, watches anime pretty much nonstop. She’s read more comics than I’ve watched Law & Order.”

I chuckled. “Well, if what you say is true, that’s impressive.”

“Sarah’s convinced me to read a few, but it’s not really my thing. I actually prefer non-fiction.”

“I’m the same way. Cam’s been trying to find a book for me to fall in love with since I met her, but so far, no luck. The last one was The Martian. Should have watched the movie first, but she wouldn’t let me.”

“It’s a good one. You into movies?”

“Over books, definitely.” I shifted, turning my wine glass by the stem, struggling to keep the conversation going. “I feel like I should ask you your sign or something.”

She laughed. “Scorpio. Don’t look so scared — I’m at least self-aware enough not to stab people with my opinions. Often, at least.”

“I’m a Pisces.”

“Ah,” she said knowingly. “Go with the flow. Selfless, loyal. Cam’s good. Astrologically, we’re a match made in heaven.”

“She just seems to know things, like a sixth sense. She’s just hyper-observant, I think.”

“Well, it’s a pretty impressive trick. So you used to play for Nebraska, right?”

I took a drink and nodded. “Tight end. Injured junior year. Jack offered me a job, thankfully, because I couldn’t go back.”

She bit her lip. “I read a little about it. I’m so sorry.”

I smirked. “You studied up on me?”

Her cheeks flushed. “I make sure to at least search my dates’ names on the internet. That’s just being responsible.”

I laughed. “Maybe I should take notes. It’s been a minute since I’ve dated.”

“Any reason?”

“No, nothing specific. Just hadn’t found anybody I was interested in enough to pursue.”

“Well, I’m glad I chased you down.”

I smiled and lied. “Me too.”

She took a sip of her wine. “So, what does Tyler Knight do for fun on the weekends?

“Cam and I watch football every weekend that I’m not traveling. In the summer, she dragged me to a bunch of indie films and a couple of conventions, but otherwise, not much. I’ve been told I’m boring.”

She chuckled. “Well, I have to disagree with that. Were the cons all that bad?”

“Nah. I actually had a great time. She’s easy to get along with — like she’s just one of those people who makes everything fun, you know? I just like to mess with her about it.”

“So what about you though? I mean, what are you interested in?”

My brow dropped a hair, and I tried not to frown. “I play chess, and video games sometimes. But mostly, it’s football. It’s just that’s only a few months out of the year. The rest of the time, I’m pretty open, so I just tag along with Cam wherever she’s going. Otherwise I’d probably just be addicted to Netflix like the rest of the population.”

“It’s a real epidemic. So, you two are close, huh?” She took a sip of her drink, watching me.

I sighed, not knowing why I kept bringing her up. “Yeah. I mean, when I met her, I’d just come out of a long-term thing that didn’t end well. I have friends, don’t get me wrong, but …” I paused, not even sure where I was going with any of it. Not that I could stop rambling. “Everything changed when I was injured. You look at your life, the course of it, and you think you’ve got it figured out, you know? But then one day it’s gone. That dream disappears, and you’ve got to figure everything out.”

“I get that,” she said quietly.

“Well, everyone else I knew got their dreams in one way or another. Part of me is glad it turned out this way. I’ve seen what going pro has done to some of the guys I know, and even though I’d like to think I’d hold onto who I am, who knows if I could have. In any event, I just didn’t fit anywhere after that. I want to stay connected to the game, but sometimes it hurts. And Cam … well, she was the first person in a long time who didn’t care about any of that. She just saw me. So, the short answer is yeah. We’re close.”

“I’m glad you have her.”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah, me too.”

“Do you … are you two …”

I shook my head. “Cam’s never shown any interest in that,” I said, answering too honestly, catching myself too late.

“And what about you?”

I shifted in my seat and smiled. “Why are we talking about Cam? I’m on a date with you.”

“Because you keep bringing her up,” she said without accusation.

“She’s been working really hard to set us up.”

She smiled. “I could tell by her interview that she was on a mission. Sarah said she used to set people up at the comic shop when she could, though the ratio of connectable patrons was a little off.”

“Then you’ll also know she’s got a knack for it.”

Adrienne shrugged. “Sure. But no one’s infallible.”

“She just said that to me earlier, though I don’t know if she’d ever admit to being wrong without a fight.”

“Do you have a thing for her?”

“I …” I started to say I didn’t, but the words wouldn’t pass my lips. Instead, they hung up in my throat with the truth. “It doesn’t matter.”

Her smile was knowing. “It matters to me. I’d rather not go to dinner with guys who have things for cute comic book dealers.”

I looked down at my hand where it rested on the table, feeling like a fool. “I’m sorry, Adrienne.”

She put up a hand. “Don’t be, really. I mean, I’m not going to pretend like I’m not disappointed. But I wanted to see where it goes, and here it is.”

See where it goes. The words rang through my brain. All I needed was to be brave enough to make a move, a real move on Cam, consequences be damned. Because I couldn’t shake her, not now. Not until I knew for sure.

She watched me. “You just realized it, didn’t you?”

I nodded.

“Well, then I’d call dinner a success. Just not in the way I’d been hoping.” She took a sip of her wine, and the server brought our dinner, setting it in front of us, warm and steaming.

I wasn’t even sure I could eat — the pit in my stomach seemed to occupy all the space.

“So,” she said matter-of-factly, picking up her fork, “what are you going to do about it?”

I watched her for a second and took a drink. “Isn’t this weird for you, Adrienne?”

“A little,” she said with a shrug. “But I want to help. So, what’s your plan?”

I shook my head, sighing. “I … I don’t even know. You have to understand that Cam is dead set against a relationship on the grounds that we’re too different. I’m not sure how to broach the subject with her. I’m not even sure exactly how I feel, other than a little dizzy.”

She chuckled and speared a potato wedge. “You don’t talk to a lot of people about this sort of thing, do you?”

“None. Just Cam. I can’t exactly sort it out with her though.”

“No, not this time.” She slipped the fork into her mouth, chewed and swallowed as she thought. “What’s stopping you?”

“She compared me to her brother earlier today, is that enough of a reason?”

She winced. “Maybe. Do you think she meant it?”

I sighed, staring at my food. “Sometimes I get these … I don’t know, vibes from her. I know she’s attracted to me, but she denies having any feelings for me that aren’t strictly platonic. And if I don’t handle this carefully, it could blow up in my face. She’s my roommate, for God’s sake.”

Adrienne nodded. “And one of your closest friends, it would seem.”

“And that.”

“And you could lose her.”

My heart squeezed tight. “And that,” I said softly.

“Well, the way I see it, you have two options.”

I picked up my fork and poked at the grilled broccoli on my plate briefly before setting the utensil down again.

“You can tell her how you feel, or you can leave.”

I frowned. “I can’t just keep it to myself?”

“Nope. You’ll implode from the pressure. Once you know, that’s it. You can’t un-ring the bell. The knowledge alone changes everything, and there’s no going back.”

“I don’t want to leave,” I answered solidly.

Her dark eyes met mine. “Then you know what you have to do. Honestly, you could still end up having to leave. If she doesn’t want you the same way that you want her, it would mean the end of it all anyway.”

It was sound logic — I could find no fault other than that being honest about my feelings with Cam scared the hell out of me. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a wise woman?”

She laughed, white teeth flashing. “A time or two. One thing about being the boss is that you learn how to see the available options and outcomes on the fly. You learn how to pull the trigger with the knowledge that you’ve made the best decision, even when it’s terrifying.”

I felt my way through my thoughts, looking for the path to the answer. “I can’t just go in guns blazing, but I don’t think I need some grand plan to tell her how I feel, either. I have no idea what to do,” I said half to myself.

“I think you’ll know, when the time is right.”

I nodded, picking up my fork again. This time, I took a bite. She made it sound so simple — the thought filled me with hope and fear and uncertainty. But Adrienne was right. I had to tell her. I imagined it as I ate in silence, her rejection. Her acceptance. Her happiness. Because that was really all I wanted. Her happiness was my very own, and if what she said was true, if she really believed us to be so different that she couldn’t think of me as more than a friend, then I would find a way to accept that.

I wouldn’t lose her friendship. We would find a way through it together. Because I’d regret it until the end of my days if I didn’t tell her what she meant to me.

I swallowed and drank my wine. “Thank you, Adrienne. I’m sorry, really. I’ve never had a date quite like this before.”

“It’s all right. I have to admit I was crushing on you pretty hard for a second there.” She chuckled. “The hunt continues. I’m sure Mr. Right is just around the corner. Maybe I’ll even enlist Cam’s help.”

“Just keep coming to singles night. I’m sure she’ll have you set up by Christmas.”

Adrienne laughed. “A girl can hope.”

Dinner passed easily, though my mind was on Cam. I longed for a moment to myself before I went home, and after I walked Adrienne to her apartment, I made my way through the streets to our building, circling it a few times before working up the courage to go in. Partly, I hoped she’d already be asleep. Partly, I didn’t know what I’d say, if I’d even say anything.

But mostly, I knew that when I walked through our door, nothing would be the same.

YES/NO/MAYBE

Cam

EVERYTHING’S FINE, I TOLD MYSELF as I raised a hand to knock on Mrs. Frank’s door, smile firmly in place, happy for something — anything — to distract me from thinking about Tyler and Adrienne.

Kafka went ballistic, his bark high and loud, and I heard Mrs. Frank approach, shushing him along the way.

She opened the door with her face soft, skin like cream, wrinkled in a way that didn’t look weathered, her wispy white hair in a bun pinned on top of her head. Kafka bolted out, running in circles around me.

“Cam!” she said with a friendly smile, holding out her knobby hands for me. “What a surprise. Come in, come in.”

“Hi, Mrs. Frank.” I leaned into her arms, my hands full of food containers, and I kissed her on the cheek. The sweet scent of rose oil hit my nose, a familiar smell that always reminded me of her.

Kafka barked, hopping and scratching at my leg.

“Oh, come here, you brute,” she said, bending to scoop the little Yorkie into her arms, and I followed her inside.

It was always like walking into a time capsule, the story of her life as told by her belongings. She had depression era china and glassware that she’d told me actually contained radioactive material. A tea set from occupied Japan. Lamps from the sixties, quilts that she’d crocheted. Every single thing in her home had a story, and I’d heard dozens of them.

“I made some spicy white chili for you,” I said as I followed her through the apartment, her frame even smaller than mine under a velvet dressing gown, embroidered with flowers.

She glanced back at me over her shoulder with a brow up. “Really spicy or Cam spicy?”

I chuckled. “Well, I could stomach it, so probably not spicy enough. I packed some extra fresh jalapeños though. Oh, and I made cookies. Cornbread too.”

“White or yellow?”

“White. Is there really any other kind?”

She laughed and set Kafka down, turning to take the plastic containers from me. “No, there isn’t.”

Mrs. Frank shuffled to the fridge and packed away the soup, leaving the cornbread and cookies on the counter. She opened the plastic bag with the cookies in it and snagged one, taking a big bite as she turned.

“Mmm,” she moaned appreciatively. “At my age, you always eat dessert first. It’s a God-earned right.”

She pulled out a chair and sat, and I took a seat next to her.

“It’s sweet of you to think of me, Cam. I’m glad for the company. Kafka too. He gets bored with just me to keep him company … I can’t even take the poor boy on a walk anymore.” She waved her hand. “Getting old is for the birds.”

“‘Time can’t change me, but I can’t trace time,’ as David Bowie would say.”

“He was a very, very wise man. Tell me what’s new. How’s work? How’s Tyler? Tell me some stories about youth and love.” Her blue eyes were dreamy, so blue they were almost grey.

“Well, work is great, and everything is going well. We did another singles night a couple of nights ago that was a smash, a costume party.”

“Oh,” she said, her cheeks flushing, “I love a good costume party.”

“I think nearly everyone does. It’s fun to pretend. You should come.”

She laughed and waved me off.

“I’ve been making matches at work still, including Tyler.” My voice was tight, even I heard it, and Mrs. Frank raised a brow.

“Oh?”

I smiled, but it was paper thin. “Yeah, and the girl I set him up with is something else. You’d like her. She’s strong and beautiful, but somehow soft and kind too. She complements him well, and I’m really happy for him that it’s working out.”

She nodded and took a bite of her cookie. “How long have you been trying to convince yourself of that?”

I blushed. “Since yesterday.”

She smirked. “And Tyler really likes her?”

“He seems to. Why wouldn’t he?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I sort of thought maybe he was holding out for you.”

I shook my head, embarrassed. “No, you’ve got that all wrong.”

“I don’t think it’s all that wrong.”

“He and I aren’t the same.”

She raised a brow. “Since when does that matter?”

I frowned. “Since always. He should be with tall, pretty girls like the one he’s on a date with, not dorky midgets like me.”

Mrs. Frank polished off her cookie and dusted off her hands before picking Kafka up. “That’s just silly, Cam.”

“When girls like me get mixed up with guys like him, they get hurt. I’m not interested in being hurt.”

Her fingers massaged the dog’s ears, and he closed his eyes, leaning into her hand. “You think Tyler would hurt you?”

“Not on purpose.”

“Hmm,” was her only response.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s on a date as we speak with a girl who’s absolutely, unerringly amazing.”

“Well, I’ll give you my advice, not that you asked for it. But when you’re ninety-four, aside from having dessert first, you also know to say your piece because who knows if you’ll get another chance.”

I chuckled, and she smiled.

“You can hem and haw about Tyler until the end of days and it won’t change the way you feel or the way he does. You’re not the type to shy away from a problem — you’re the sort that meets it head on. You’re as unstoppable as a Category 5 hurricane. So why shy away from Tyler? You care for him.”

“I do care for him, but not like that.”

She gave me a look at said she knew better.

My cheeks were hot. “Well, I mean who wouldn’t be attracted to him? You’ve seen him.”

She sighed. “Yes, I have. Have you seen yourself?”

I didn’t answer.

“If you care for him, you can’t wait. Life’s too short. Take it from someone at the end of the road looking back.”

“But,” I argued, “he’s on a date. One that I set up.”

She shrugged. “Maybe it’ll work out. Maybe it won’t. Just think about it. Don’t pass up the opportunity just because you’re scared.”

I thought about him almost kissing me the night before and wondered what would have happened if I’d let him, if I hadn’t pulled away. I thought about his lips against mine, imagined how they would feel.

But I wasn’t ready for that disappointment. Don’t date anyone not on your shelf, I told myself, as if repeating it could make it easier to follow through with.

So I thanked her and smiled, changing the subject to her, asking for a story of her past, and she happily obliged with a tale from when she was growing up on a farm in Texas during the depression.

It wasn’t long before she was tired, so I hugged her, squeezing her small body tight before petting Kafka on the head and leaving for my own apartment.

I trudged down the stairs, uncertainty seeping into me, stealing the joy from talking with Mrs. Frank. And the first thing I did after changing into leggings and a T-shirt was hop up on the counter with a gallon of double chocolate fudge and a brain full of what-the-fuck.

I shoved the spoon into the carton crammed between my thighs.

To say I was confused would have been the understatement of the century. I wanted his date with Adrienne to work out so I could hold faith in the universal rules I held to be true. I wanted it to be lukewarm so he could still be single and I wouldn’t have to share him. I wanted it to be a disaster so he’d come home and see me. I mean, really see me. See me as more than just good ol’ Cam, and when he was completely sober.

But I wasn’t … I don’t know. Enough. Sophisticated enough. Sexy enough — at all, if I were being honest with myself. I wasn’t even tall enough, for God’s sake. I was just a fairy-boned dork in glasses with her nose in a book and her head in the clouds.

I turned on music, and even the shuffle on my phone knew I was a mess, playing a random assortment of music from Tool to Chuck Berry, and somehow, every word and every note made me think of Tyler.

I shoveled a rude bite of ice cream into my mouth and ate it too fast, sending a shock of pain behind my eyes and around my head in a burst. Through the blinding pain of the brain freeze, I reached for my glass and chugged the warm water, holding my breath for the second it took to warm my head back up.

What? I’m a pro ice cream binger. I come prepared.

I was halfway into the gallon when decided I should probably stop. I took another bite, rolling the freezing chocolate around in my mouth. I figured I should go to bed. Maybe read a book. I shoveled my loaded spoon into my mouth again, nodding in solidarity. But first, I would definitely stop eating.

So I took another bite. For good measure, and all.

I heard his key in the door and looked toward the sound with wide eyes, not expecting him home so soon. I didn’t move otherwise, not with my thoughts flying through my brain at the speed of light.

When he stepped through the door, he looked … different. Like his body was charged up and tight, determined, but a spark of fear flickered behind his eyes. Eyes that locked on mine with an intensity I didn’t anticipate. Intensity that stopped my heart.

He didn’t break the silence between us, just closed the door and locked it, deposited his wallet and keys on the small table near the door.

I ripped myself out of the trance unwillingly, my eyes finding the ice cream for a distraction as I dug in for a gigantic scoop.

“Hey. How’d it go with Adrienne? Tell me I was right about her.” I stuffed the spoon in my mouth and closed my lips, pulling it out without fanfare, though there was too much to eat at once. I looked up as I pulled the remaining lump out, lips parting as I scraped the top layer of ice cream off.

His eyes weren’t on mine. They were on my lips.

“You were right about her. She’s great, Cam.” His tone was obscure, but his words told me enough.

I smiled and swallowed, feeling the cold move down into my chest. “Told you. Did she look great? Tell me she showed off her legs,” I chattered, my voice a little too high. “The girl’s got some stems.” Shut up, Cam. Stop asking. Stop talking, for God’s sake. The spoon entered my mouth again to stop anything else from coming out.

He nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets, making no motion to sit. It made me nervous for some reason, and I felt the blood rush to my cold cheeks. “She looked great. She’s beautiful, Cam. Smart. Funny. Gives good advice, too. We have a lot in common. It was a good match.”

My laugh sounded like horse-laugh Julia. “Good. I mean, I knew she would be. You guys are basically perfect together, you know? The first second I saw you and her together, I just knew it.” I kept rambling as I dug my spoon back into the ice cream with an edge of violence. “Did you kiss her?” I tried to sound innocuous, but it came out a little like an accusation.

Ice cream in.

He watched me, the look in his eyes enigmatic. “No. Are you jealous?”

I laughed again nervously, hanging my mouth open, hoping I looked gross enough that he’d stop watching me like he was. “No. I mean, why would you even say that? Jealous.” I swallowed and blew air out between my lips so they flapped. “Everything’s fine, Tyler. So fine. I set you up with her. I basically want you to make little beautiful babies who play football or win beauty pageants or are supermodels because your kids would have like the longest legs in the whole world. I even want you to kiss her, if you haven’t already. Have you?” I asked, not giving him time to answer before saying, “No, I don’t care, because I’m not jealous. You should kiss her. You should leave here right now and go over there and kiss her instead of looking at me like that, because when you look at me like that, I want you to kiss me instead.”

I froze.

He didn’t.

He sprang to life from still as stone, moving across the room, around the table with burning eyes and a small, crooked smile.

“You want me to kiss you?” he asked, closing the distance.

“I — no, that’s not what I meant.” I stammered. “Yes. I mean, no! Maybe.”

He stopped in front of me, pressing his hips against the counter between my knees, spreading them apart. His hand found my cheek, and he said softly, “You want me to kiss you right now, Cam?”

“I…” I breathed, looking up into his eyes, unable to say anything, drunk from the proximity of his lips. But he didn’t wait for me to speak. I think he already knew the answer without me having to say a word.

He inched closer until his nose trailed up the bridge of mine, his lips so close that I could feel them — every nerve reached for him. If I’d moved a half an inch, our lips would have met, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe as I sat on the counter in my kitchen with Tyler Knight’s hand in my hair, his breath mingling with mine, with nothing to separate us save a few layers of clothes and a gallon of ice cream. And after that long, stretched out moment, he kissed me.

The moment our lips touched, we both pulled in a long breath through our noses, lungs sipping the air like it was the first time. He was strong, even in something so tender as a kiss, his lips closing over mine, his tongue running across my bottom lip in his mouth, hand guiding my jaw to put my mouth where he wanted it.

There was no thought other than him as he filled every sense, my brain and body and heart and soul overloaded with Tyler. And everything was blissfully simple, without consequences or questions, no wondering or uncertainty.

He broke away, but I couldn’t open my eyes, just stayed where I was with my head tilted up to his, lips parted.

“Wow,” he whispered.

My lids weighed a thousand pounds, but I pried them open to meet his gaze. “Wait, am I daydreaming?” I asked, not at all kidding.

He laughed softly, thumb stroking my cheek. “You’ve daydreamed about this?”

“Maybe.”

He bent his head, lips on a track to mine. “Me too.”

He kissed me again, this time deeper, his tongue brushing my lips that parted for him. My arms wound around his neck, and I was so mesmerized by his lips, I barely noticed him move the ice cream out of the way. He slipped his hand into the small of my back, sliding me to him until I was flush against his waist. His arm was strong around me, his free hand in my hair, and my legs curled around his waist, squeezing to bring him closer still. Our lips moved together, tongues circling each other, breaths shallow, hearts hammering.

I decided then that I could kiss Tyler forever.

He broke away again, laying a small kiss on my lips, then my cheek as he cupped the back of my head and tucked me into his chest.

“Wow,” I whispered, unable to form any other coherent thought.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. Even sitting on the counter, my head tucked easily under his chin, since he was basically a giant. A giant and a fairy.

I laughed, a small sound, my heart filling with the sound of his heart beating under my ear.

Tyler’s heart.

Tyler had kissed me. Twice.

My smile fell as my brain whirred with questions and doubt and curiosity.

The first question was the easiest. I swallowed, not daring to pull away to see his face. “Why did you kiss me, Tyler?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“For how long?”

“Too long.” His fingers shifted in my hair.

My heart ached. “Why now?”

“Because once I knew I wanted to be with you, I had to do something about it, even if you said you thought we weren’t right for each other. I never believed it, you know. I just thought you didn’t want me. Plus, you said you wanted me to kiss you. I don’t think I could have asked for a more obvious sign.”

I pulled back and looked at him like he’d told me he was from the future. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What do you mean?” He looked genuinely confused. Beautifully, blissfully unaware.

“Because you’re… Tyler, you’re so amazing that some days I can’t believe you’re even real. You’re beautiful and kind, loyal, strong. You’re funny and smart and just … you’re the ultimate. And you could have had Adrienne Christie, who’s an actual goddess. You left your date with a goddess and came back here and kissed me.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t make any sense that you’d want me.”

He stroked my cheek, his dark eyes soft. “Maybe not in your universe, but it makes perfect sense in mine.” He brought his lips to mine again, and I melted like a pat of butter in his arms. When he broke away, he said, “Come here,” and grabbed me around the waist like I was sack of sugar. He carried me to the couch and sat down with me straddled across his lap.

I looked into his eyes, not entirely certain as to how I’d come to this point and even less certain as to what was next. If it seems too good to be true, it probably is. Maybe he’d only wanted a kiss. Maybe he didn’t want more from me than what he’d taken already. Maybe he just wanted to have sex and get it out of his system before he ditched me. My heart sank at the thought.

“What happens now?” I asked, trying to breathe through the anxiety, looking into his eyes for answers.

“What do you want, Cam?”

“To kiss you again,” I answered quietly, honestly.

He smiled and pulled me into him again. His sweet lips were against mine, the smell of him in my nose and his solid chest under my palms. Then my fingers cupped his jaw. Then slipped into his hair. His hands found my hips — nearly circling them — and he pulled me down just enough to feel him pressing against me.

I broke away and peered at him, afraid for the first time since he’d kissed me. “I … I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

“I’m not either.”

I pouted a little.

He chuckled, brushing my bottom lip with his thumb. “What I mean is that I care about you enough that I want to do this right. This isn’t just … I don’t know. Messing around. Not for me. I don’t want to screw it up by rushing things. You just …” His eyes found my lips. “I didn’t know you could kiss like that. You’ve been holding out on me,” he said with a smile.

It was my turn to laugh, and the nerves and anxiety slipped away. I felt like I was on a roller coaster, equal parts terrified, elated, and trying not to puke.

He was still smiling at me, one hand on my hip, the other catching my chin between his thumb and forefinger. The look on his face nearly killed me — it was full of adoration and awe.

If ever a boy could get a girl knocked up from across a room, it was Tyler Knight.

“So,” he said, his smile climbing on one side, “besides more kissing — which I can most definitely provide, on demand and at your leisure — how do you want to do this?”

I thought about it and had zero answers. “I … I don’t know, Tyler. I’ve never done this before.”

Shock passed across his face. “Wait, you mean … are you a …”

My entire face was on fire. “A virgin? God, no. I mean,” I scrambled, “I’m not what you’d call super experienced or anything, but I’m not a virgin.”

Relief was his new expression. “Do you mean boyfriends then?”

My blush deepened, somehow. “To answer your question, yes, I’ve had boyfriends. I’ve just never lived with anyone I’m dating, and I’ve never dated anyone who was already my friend.”

“Me neither.”

“So we’re in uncharted waters. What should we do?”

“Wing it,” he said definitively.

I smiled. “Can I kiss you again?”

“On demand and at your leisure.”

And I laughed and kissed him until my lips were swollen, sure they’d never get their fill.

Tyler

Over the course of a few minutes, kissing Cam became one of my most favorite things in the world.

I don’t know what it was about it, exactly. I think she could read me just as well as anyone, better than anyone. She anticipated me, knew somehow what I wanted or needed and gave it to me. She gave and gave and gave, her small body pressed against mine, her hands in my hair as little moans and sighs slipped past her lips.

I hadn’t kissed a girl so much in one sitting since high school, but I wasn’t frustrated now like I had been then. Instead I savored every second,  every moment as it stretched into the next. I kissed her until her mouth was red. I kissed her until she was breathless. I kissed her until we lay stretched out on the couch with her in my arms.

I don’t know what time it was when she curled into my chest, when her breath slowed as my fingertips traced circles on her back. I knew she was asleep, but I didn’t dare move, lying just like that for a long time, with music playing softly from the kitchen and her small body against mine. I smiled up at the ceiling, happy — deep-down soul happy — for the first time since I couldn’t remember when.

For most of my life, I’d worn a label. The Good Guy or The Tight End with Promise or Carl Knight’s Son. Always something. Inside of that, I’d always been me. But people wanted those labels to give themselves one of their own. Tyler Knight’s Friend. Girlfriend. Coach.

But Cam didn’t want my label. She had her own. Truth be told, I think she was afraid of mine.

I can’t say I blame her. Most of the time, I was too.

She wasn’t like the other girls I’d dated. She was real and good and true, and she wanted me. I felt more safe with her than any woman I’d ever been with.

My eyes began to close, but I didn’t want her to have to sleep on the couch with the lights all on. So I turned and slipped an arm underneath her back, then her knees. She half woke up when I stood, picking her up. She was the slightest thing, just a wisp, and I carried her to her dark room, laying her down, tucking her in. I slipped off her glasses and brushed her hair from her face, watching her for a moment before taking a step away.

Her small hand slipped into mine. “Stay,” she said, her voice rough from disuse. And there was no way I could refuse her, even if I’d wanted to.

“All right,” I whispered and unbuttoned my shirt, stealing into my room to put on sleep pants. When I came back, she hadn’t moved, and I pulled back the covers to slip in behind her. She shifted until she was pressed against my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her and drifted away to sleep.

FERTILIZED

Cam

I WOKE UP SLOW AND easy, remembering the night before like it had been a dream, smiling to myself at how real it had felt.

Tyler shifted against me, and my eyes flew open.

Not a dream.

It was real.

He was real, and as I rolled over to face him, I smiled, in awe at the sight of him stretched out in my bed.

His mouth hung open just a touch, his neck long, dark lashes against his cheeks. I followed the line of his broad shoulder, the curves of his muscles, his bicep. Tricep. Forearm. Just so many muscles. Part of me wanted to peek under the blanket to feast my eyes on the rest of him, but regrettably I stopped myself.

I didn’t feel creepy watching him sleep, smiling in the morning sunshine at my sleeping giant. Everything felt right. It made sense. He was so … everything. Beautiful. Kind. Smart. Funny. And he kissed me. He kissed me for a long, long time. He held me and slept in my bed, content and happy. Or at least he seemed to be.

I felt like a princess in a fairy tale. I hoped it was true. Real.

If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.

Will filled my thoughts, followed by the old anxiety. It was like a replay of my shame from so long ago, but as I watched Tyler sleep, I reminded myself that things were different now. Tyler wasn’t Will — I knew Tyler, trusted him. And we were adults, not teenagers in high school driven primarily by hormones.

Tyler was an exception to the rules. So I decided to shut up and go with it until I had a reason not to.

I didn’t want to wake him, but somebody had to make the coffee, so I slipped out of bed and padded into the kitchen, humming as I set up the coffee machine. While it brewed, I sat down with my book. As many times as I’ve read Mists of Avalon, I never tired of it. In fact, every time I read it, I caught something new. A new line, a new phrase or moment that spoke to me. The tale of King Arthur, the women of the court, the lore of the Druids, the angst and intrigue … it was magnificent, and every time I picked it up, I was immediately immersed.

I was into my second cup when Tyler shuffled in from my room, shirtless and yawning, hand mussing his hair.

“Morning,” he said as he approached, stooping to kiss my cheek.

I nearly swooned. “Morning. Coffee’s made.”

“Taking care of me again.”

“Any time.” I closed my book and leaned on the table, watching his back. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?” he asked as he poured a cup.

“For staying with me last night. For kissing me.”

He turned, his eyes twinkling. “Thanks for kissing me back.”

I snorted. “Like I could have refused.”

“So now it’s out of obligation?” He sat next to me, smirking, and I tried to keep my eyes on his, rather than on his bare chest.

“To my very womanhood, yes.”

He took a sip of his coffee, watching me over the edge of the coffee mug with Darth Vader’s mask on it that said Who’s your daddy? “So what time do you want to leave for the game?”

I glanced at the clock on the wall and did some quick math. “Well, it starts at one, so probably eleven with traffic. We’re riding back with Kyle, right?”

He nodded. “If that’s okay.”

“Sure. I’m glad he’s so generous with his tickets. Home side, fifty-yard line? That’s choice.”

“It is.” He sat back. “Eggs?”

“Only if there’s bacon.”

Tyler pushed his chair back and smiled. “There’s always bacon.”

He moved around the kitchen, gathering supplies, pausing to pick up the abandoned ice cream carton and give me a look as he tossed it in the trash.

“Hey,” I said, laughing, “it’s not my fault your sexy mouth superseded ice cream preservation.”

“Oh, that’s definitely your fault.” He smiled crookedly at me, and I picked up my book again, enjoying the moment, though I couldn’t really concentrate on reading with shirtless Tyler making me breakfast.

Excitement flittered through me at the fact that Tyler and I were actually happening. It was happening, and it was easy and simple and not weird. I mean, it was weird in the way that it was completely unbelievable, but being with Tyler had never been weird.

I wondered if I’d get to see him naked, and my uterus might have exploded at the prospect.

“How do you want your eggs?” he asked.

“Fertilized,” I said, and he laughed over his shoulder at me. I shrugged. “Over medium is good.”

“What are you thinking about?” he asked as he laid bacon into the pan.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one asking that question.” I said with a brow up.

He laughed. “I mean, we just stepped into all of this out of nowhere, and I want to know where you’re at.”

I nodded, not sure how to answer without gushing. “Well, I’m still in shock, I think. I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around it, even though it feels natural. It feels good. How about you?”

“Well,” he started as he washed his hands, his eyes down, “I think I’m a little in shock too. I really thought you were going to shoot me down and it was going to get weird.”

I laughed and shook my head. “You’re crazy.”

He shrugged and grabbed a kitchen towel, slinging it over his naked shoulder when he’d wiped his hands. “I believed you when you said you said stuff like I was a brother to you.” He raised a brow, smirking “Still feel that way?”

“Nope.” I popped the ‘p’ and smiled.

He chuckled, leaning over to kiss me before heading back to the stove to prod the bacon.

“As for where we’re at — I don’t have a lot of expectations from you or us, not at this point. Just be honest with me. And bear with me, because I’m crazy.”

“I’ll always be honest with you, and I already know and love your crazy.”

“Yeah, but this is going to be a whole new level of crazy.” I thought about telling him about Will, but decided against it. I’d tell him eventually, but not less than twenty-four hours after he kissed me and while he was cooking me breakfast.

He shot me a smile. “Consider yourself bear-ed with.” He turned back to the skillet to crack the eggs, and I watched his back with wonder, half expecting him to break out in song or for woodland creatures to appear to help him cook.

His phone chimed with a text, still on the table by the door where he’d left it last night. When he walked over and looked, he sighed.

“What is it?”

“Kyle gave the two tickets next to us to twins he’s trying to bang.”

“Oh, God,” I said with a hint of dread, remembering the last game we went to.

“Should be interesting.”

“Hopefully it’s not as intense as last time, that redhead and her friend — the underage one who got trashed?”

“And subsequently kicked out.”

I laughed. “You can’t show your boobs to the jumbo camera without consequences.”

“The best was the look on your face.”

“Which also ended up on the jumbo camera.”

“Damn, I wish I’d been able to get to my phone in time to snap that.”

I shook my head, remembering the embarrassment. “I should have made you sit next to them.”

He put up his hands — one with a spatula in it — and said, “I mean, it’s not like most guys wouldn’t be thrilled to sit next to a nineteen-year-old drunk girl with an itchy trigger finger on her bra, but I’m glad it was you and not me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Like I said, you should have seen your face.”

I chuckled and rolled my eyes, picking up my coffee. “Gee, thanks. Maybe today won’t be so bad. Maybe I can help them take it easy on the booze.”

“I’ll wish you all the very best of luck with that,” he said as he plated our breakfast.

I watched him quietly, chasing the fleeting thought that maybe we’d just slip back into being friends. I imagined him just pretending like last night didn’t happen, but when he turned to me with the plates and sat down next to me and I looked in his eyes, at his smile, every doubt fell away.

We tucked into breakfast for a quiet moment, and I watched him furtively, trying not to stare. But as I absently nibbled my bacon, I thought about his arms, thought about the warmth of his body next to mine all night, thought about his kisses, so sweet and new and full of hope and promise. And the only thing I knew for sure was that I wanted more.

“So,” he said after a little bit, “we have a couple of hours before we have to leave.”

“Are you a mind reader?” I asked with a small smile.

“Why?” He was amused, the corners of his lips curling.

“Because I was just thinking about how badly I wanted to kiss you.”

His smile broke open like sunshine. “Then maybe I am a mind reader, because I was thinking the same thing.”

DOUBLEMINT

Tyler

SHE WAS THE PRETTIEST THING I’d ever seen, sitting next to me that morning. Her hair was wavy and a little unkempt, like she’d just come from the beach, her brown eyes big and full of laughter behind her glasses, a high flush in her cheeks like she so often had. She could have been glowing for as happy as she looked.

We ate our breakfast, laughing and talking like we always do, but everything had changed. Everything, from the way she looked at me, the way she smiled. Hers was a smile I knew well, one I’d seen in a hundred versions, but the one she gave me then was one I’d only come to know the day before.

A jolt of excitement sprinted through me at the knowledge that I’d be kissing her the second she finished her eggs.

I didn’t waste any time, either. I scooped up her plate as soon as the last bite was gone, stacked it on mine, and took it to the sink. When I turned, she stood behind me bearing a shy smile.

It was the first time since we’d first kissed that we actually stood next to each other, stood so close. I’d never been with anyone so small — the top of her head barely came to my underarm, and when she hugged me, her arms slipped around my waist naturally. Her cheek was warm against the skin of my chest, and I ran my fingers through her hair, holding her against me, shifting to rock us slowly.

“It’s not as strange as I thought it would be,” she said.

“Us?”

“No. You being a giant.”

I chuckled, and when she looked up at me, propping her chin on my chest, I bent down to pick her up around the waist. Her arms wound around my neck, and I held her there, arms locked, keeping her close enough to kiss, though her feet were dangling a foot off the ground.

“The only thing I don’t like is that you’re so far away,” I said.

She giggled. “When you pick me up like this, I feel like a kid.”

“You’re not a kid,” I said gently. “And you know what you said yesterday? About not being a real girl? Well, you are. You’re the most real girl I’ve ever known.”

And when her face softened, her eyes velvety brown and full of emotion, I brought my lips to hers to tell her how much I meant it without speaking a word.

Hours later, we were walking into the stadium, decked out in Giants gear. Cam had on prescription aviators and a Giants baseball cap, her Manning jersey was half-tucked into her jean shorts, and her pretty legs were long and tan. She laughed and skipped ahead of me, her Converse bouncing and arms waving.

“It’s game day!” she crowed, not caring that some of the other fans gave her a look.

We grabbed beers and found our seats — some of the best seats in the house, if you asked me. It was a half an hour before the game started — players were leaving the field from warm up, and music bumped over the speakers as everyone filed into the stadium.

“What do you think, will Kyle’s girls be blondes or brunettes?” she asked as we sat down.

“Blondes. With spray tans.”

She chuckled and propped her feet on the seat in front of her. “In matching outfits.”

“Jean shorts with their butts hanging out.”

She gave me a look that said I’d wounded her feminist heart.

“What? Kyle has a type. I personally don’t care if their butts hang out. Or if said butts are tan.”

“Ugh,” she said with a curled lip before punching me in the arm with her tiny fist.

But I laughed and caught her arm, pulling her to me for a kiss.

She sighed, lids heavy when she broke away. “That’s not always going to work, Tyler. But for now, kissing me is a really great way to apologize.”

I smirked and sank into my seat, propping my feet next to hers. She lined her tiny sneaker up to my big one, then propped her other foot on top. They were the same height.

We looked at each other and laughed.

“Excuse us, I think our seats are over there,” someone said, and I looked up to see two girls pointing just beyond me, to the other side of Cam.

“Oh, sorry.” We moved our feet, and the girls shuffled past. Cam gave me a look when their spray-tanned butts moved past her eye level, and I tried not to laugh.

They were pretty girls — long blond hair, great bodies — but they looked a little out of place with flawless makeup and curls, brand new hats stiff on top of their heads and crisp jerseys on brandishing Kyle’s name and number. But they’d dressed the part in the spirit of participating, and they had matching kind smiles, so for that, I approved of the two.

Cam stuck out her hand. “You’re Kyle’s friends, right?”

The one sitting next to Cam smiled and took her hand. “Yeah. I’m Tracey —”

The other one popped her head around and waved. “And I’m Casey.”

“We’re twins!” they said at the same time.

Cam laughed. “Oh, my God. You two are adorable.”

They bubbled and giggled. “So are you.” Tracey said. “You’re so tiny! I love your glasses. I wish I could wear mine, but I swear, I’m so blind, they’re like magnifying glasses. I look like a creepy owl when I wear them.”

“I doubt that,” Cam said with a laugh.

Casey nodded. “It’s true. One time, she scared the crap out of the little kids who live down the hall just by looking at them.”

Tracey sighed. “If the zombie apocalypse happens, I’m screwed.”

Casey leaned around her sister. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Cam leaned on her arm rest toward the girls and smiled conspiratorially. “This is our first date, but I think he’s a keeper.”

Casey giggled. “Uh, totally. He’s dreamy.”

I waved a hand, smirking.

“So, how do you two know Kyle?” Cam asked.

“Well,” Casey started, “we were at Noir the other night—”

“You know, the one with the aerial dancers?” Tracey added.

“Oh, of course,” Cam lied.

“So we met Kyle and some of his friends there at the bar. They brought us into VIP, and we ended up hanging out all night. So fun.” Casey said.

“So fun,” Tracey echoed.

The beer vendor came past our aisle.

Casey wrinkled her nose. “So many carbs. Guess they’re not serving gin and tonics here, huh?”

“Maybe up at the bar,” I answered, trying to be helpful.

Tracey waved a hand. “No way am I walking up and down those stairs a billion times. Beer it is.” She stood and ordered a couple of drafts from the guy, who smiled and cooed at the twins before making his way on, calling for his wares.

Cam had settled back into her seat, and her hand found its way into my lap, her small fingers twisting through mine as the announcer came on to introduce the players. Oddly, it was always the hardest part of the game, hearing the names of players I knew, the cheers of the fans, feeling the adrenaline hanging in the air. It was easier when the game was going to forget they were anything but pieces in a game, but in the beginning, it was always hardest not to imagine myself on that field.

Kyle ran onto the field through the arches, past the cheerleaders, hands in the air. We all cheered for him, Tracey and Casey bouncing and laughing, and he pointed over at us as he ran past, eliciting squeals from the girls, even Cam.

We sat back down when the excitement had passed, and before long, it was kickoff.

Cam and I talked strategy most of the game, with interludes for joking and laughing and drinking. I took every opportunity to kiss her that I could, my hands always finding her, touching her whenever and however I could — fingertips, arms, legs, anything. I didn’t want to be separated from her. Like during halftime when she leaned on my bicep and I couldn’t do anything until I’d placed a soft kiss on her lips, or when the Giants scored and we all hopped out of our seats and I scooped her into my arms. Or once, just in a quiet moment when she peered at me with her lips in a sweet smile — a smile that told me more than words could — and I took her tiny chin in my hand and kissed her.

I felt like a teenager again, pumped full of infatuation and bliss and longing for her. In part, I think it was the understanding that we wouldn’t have sex, not yet. The kiss was a connection to her that anticipated the rest, promised her more. As much as I wanted to sleep with her, I was enjoying the wait.

By the third quarter, the twins were tanked: they went from adorable to slurring so quickly, I almost got whiplash. Cam tried a few times to intervene, first by buying them each a gigantic water that probably cost twenty bucks, then by trying to distract them when the beer guy came back around — and he kept coming back around, either because they were pretty or because they were throwing money at him or both.

Casey was the first one out. She sat down, and the next time I looked over, she was slumped over in her chair with her hat pulled down low, chest rising and falling slowly. Tracey didn’t seem to notice or care, just stood next to Cam, hanging on to her, slurring and talking and telling Cam how cute she was. She even kissed Cam on the lips once, and took about a hundred selfies with her. And Cam endured it all like a champ, entertaining the drunk girl through the end of the game.

The Giants won, and it was a good game, though I tried not to be salty about the fact that I hadn’t been able to talk to Cam as much as I would have liked, since she had her hands full with the twins.

The stadium emptied out, but we stayed put. We settled in, killing time before we’d meet Kyle — showers and talking to the press were top of the list for him. Tracey was still talking Cam’s ear off, until she announced, loudly, “I have to pee. Come with me to pee, Cam.”

“All right,” she said as she stood, but when Tracey stood, she teetered and almost fell over. She grabbed Cam around the shoulders.

“Whoa,” she said.

Cam shot me an alarmed look as she buckled under the taller girl’s weight.

“Hold up, there,” I said, moving to Tracey’s other side. She grabbed my arm gratefully.

“Thanks,” Tracy said, grinning. “You’re sweet. He’s sweet, Cam.”

Her ankles were like rubber when we tried to walk, and she wobbled, putting all her weight on Cam, who looked worried.

“I don’t think I can get her there alone, Tyler.”

I nodded and took a little more of Tracey’s weight. “No worries. I can take her.”

Tracey pouted. “Cam, come have girl time in the bathroom with me. Don’t make me go alone.”

I pictured her passing out on the can and agreed. “You should probably come with us.”

“What about Casey?” Cam asked.

Tracey made a chuffing sound. “She’s fine. She always passes out. I swear, I can’t take her anywhere.”

“Think she’s okay by herself here?” Cam asked, seeming unsure.

I glanced around the stadium, which had mostly cleared out. A man and his wife sat across the aisle.

“Excuse me,” I said to them, “Do you think you could keep an eye on our friend while we help this one to the restroom?”

They nodded, smiling.

“Thanks,” I said, relieved. “All right, let’s go.”

“Thanks, guys,” she cooed. “You’re the best, you know that?”

Cam chuckled. “I mean, we try.”

We climbed the stairs without anyone dying or breaking an ankle, and once we got Tracey to the bathroom, Cam helped her in. I heard their voices echoing in the empty bathroom.

“Don’t leave me, Cam.”

“I’m right here, Tracey.”

“You’re so pretty.”

“So are you. You have the prettiest hair I’ve ever seen,” Cam said, and I could hear her smiling.

“Nuh-uh. Your skin is amazing.”

The toilet flushed.

“Promise you’ll friend me on Facebook, Cam. We need to be friends on Facebook.”

Cam laughed. “We already are. You friended me earlier, remember?”

“Oh, my God. Duh. I’m so glad we’re friends.”

“Me too. Come here, let’s wash your hands. Oh, your lipstick is a little out of whack. Let me fix it up for you.”

“I want to put you in my pocket and carry you around with me. You’re like the best taker-carer of people in the world.”

I laughed to myself, leaning on the wall outside the bathroom. When they reappeared, Tracey grabbed my arm and hung her weight on me.

Her eyes were glassy, and she smiled lazily. “You’re so tall. And strong.”

“Thanks,” I said, amused.

We made our way back to our seats, but as we descended the stairs, I scanned the empty rows, looking for Casey or the couple we’d asked to watch her.

“Are we on the wrong aisle?”

Cam twisted to look behind us. “No. Our seats are right here.”

“Oh, God.” I looked around for her but found only a few people scattered around.

“Why would those people leave Casey there? They said they’d watch her,” Cam said, frustrated.

“Wait,” Tracey said, her face contorted in confusion, “those nice German people across the aisle?”

“Oh, God,” I groaned again before depositing Tracey in the chair that had just occupied Casey.

“Oh, God,” Tracey echoed, the words full of warning as she hung her head between her knees.

I turned to Cam, who had taken the seat next to Tracey and had a hand on her back.

“You stay here and keep an eye on Tracey. Let me go look for Casey.”

Cam nodded, and I whipped my phone out of my pocket, texting Kyle as I flew up the stairs two at a time. Your twins are wasted.

My phone buzzed. Just the way I like them.

No, as in I’ve lost one and the other is about to puke a pony keg on the fifty.

Shit. Hold the fort, brother.

I cursed him under my breath as I walked around the stadium. It was nearly empty by that point, just vendors left closing up, but no one had seen Casey, and by the time I’d made my way around to our aisle again, I’d all but lost hope. But as I descended the stairs, I saw two blondes in Giants hats — one passed out like she’d been there the whole time, and the other with mascara running down her face. She looked up at me with a red nose.

“I threw up.”

I looked at the slop between her feet. “I can see that. Where’s Cam?”

Tracey looked around, confused as she wiped her nose. “She was just right here.”

“Fuck,” I muttered and ran a hand through my hair, pulling out my phone. First, a text to Cam: Are you okay? I’ve got the twins. The second to Kyle. Get your ass here right now, bro. Now.

When I looked up, Cam was jogging down the row toward us, looking relieved.

“They keep multiplying and dividing like a science experiment,” she said when she reached us. “Where’d you find her?”

“Right here.”

Her face bent, confused. “How the …”

“No idea.”

She sighed and looked out onto the field. “I thought I saw her across the way, so I went over to check.”

Tracey glanced up at Cam with a hangdog look on her face. “I threw up.”

Cam’s face softened. “You sure did. Where’s your water?”

She looked around. “I dunno.”

Cam bent down and found it under the seat. “Here you go. Rinse your mouth out.”

Tracey tried to smile. “Thank you.”

Cam turned to me. “We’ve got to get them out of here.”

My phone buzzed with a text from Kyle. I’m waiting out front.

On our way, I answered. You owe me.

I slipped my phone back in my pocket and hung my hands on my hips, assessing the twins. “All right. Do you think you can get Tracey?”

“We’ll manage. What about Casey?”

“I’ll have to carry her.”

Cam sighed. “At least you’re big and strong.”

“He’s so strong,” Tracey added helpfully.

I pulled off Casey’s hat and handed it to Cam. Underneath, the girl looked a mess, lipstick smeared, face slack. I picked her up and slung her over my shoulder. She was heavy and awkward to carry, complete dead weight.

Cam eyed me warily as she helped Tracey up. “You sure you’ve got her?”

I shifted Casey and tried to smile. “My buddy Jimmy would say she’s gone full Gumby. But yeah, I’ve got her. Probably easier this way than if she was moving around.”

She braced herself under Tracey. “If you say so, hero.”

I chuckled. “All right. Let’s do this.”

We climbed the stairs in mostly silence, all of us concentrating on our tasks, aside from Casey, who snored softly on my shoulder. The looks we got on the way out were full of laughter and pity, and a couple of cops asked if we were okay. I wasn’t even mad, just ready to get out of there, get the girls home, and have it all behind us.

I hopped Casey a little on my shoulder to adjust her as we walked down the ramp, and within a second, something warm trickled down my forearm and the front of my shirt.

It took me a second to realize that Casey was peeing.

“Son of a bitch.” I hissed, but I didn’t stop walking, just charged on. The damage was done, and I had nowhere to put poor Casey.

“What’s wrong?” Cam asked, alarmed.

“I’ve got piss on me.”

“Are you serious?” she asked, her voice flat.

Tracey laughed, then hiccuped, skidding to a halt as she burped up a mouthful. It hit Cam’s shoes with a splat. Tracey’s eyes were huge and horrified. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”

Just when I expected Cam to lose her shit, a laugh burst out of her. It was a deep belly laugh, and her face scrunched up as she paused and bent over, hinging Tracey with her.

I’d stopped and walked back to meet her, unsure what I was dealing with. “Are you okay?”

She put up her hand and swiped it back and forth, head hanging as she laughed and laughed. “I just … I can’t. It’s too much."

I found myself smiling, fighting back laughter. “I’m not counting this as a date.”

Cam stood back up, face red as she blew out a breath and shifted to get a good hold of Tracey. “Oh, I am. I so am. Come on, Tracey. Let’s get some food in you.”

“Pizza sounds good,” she swooned.

“Pizza does sound good,” Cam answered with a laugh.

When we found Kyle’s Escalade, he got out, looking at the four of us like we were crazy. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I threw up,” Tracey said.

He assessed us all. “What’s all over you, Knight? Is that … is that piss?” His face wrenched, disgusted.

I opened his door and laid Casey into the back seat. “Sure is.”

“Whoa, whoa, man. This is brand new.”

I spun around, fuming. “What the fuck do you suggest? That we just leave them here? Put them in a cab and hope they make it home okay? These girls are here because of you, and we’ve been taking care of them all day. I don’t give a fuck about your leather seats or if you get puke on your floorboards. We’re taking these girls home and making sure they get there safe.”

Kyle held up his hands. “You’re right, man. It’s cool, God. Just let me get some towels.”

My jaw flexed, my eyes following him as he scrambled to the back, returning with towels. I held out a hand for one, but he walked right past me and to the car, wiping off the seat before laying a fresh towel under her. He tossed another one to Cam. “Will you clean her up, please?”

Cam didn’t answer, but she did as he asked, for Tracey, not for Kyle. I knew by the hairy eyeball she shot at him that she was having none of his bullshit.

I pulled off my shirt and wiped my chest and arm off with it, and when I looked back at Cam, she was paused, towel in hand, looking at me like a popsicle on a summer day. I smirked and made my way over to help her get Tracey in the front seat as Kyle fussed around his SUV, adjusting the seats and laying towels, producing a plastic bag out of thin air for Tracey. Then Cam and I climbed into the third row, maneuvering around snoring Casey.

Kyle rolled the windows down. “You guys smell like shit.”

“That’s actually the only bodily fluid that we don’t smell like,” Cam shot as she buckled her seatbelt.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I threw up,” Tracey said.

“Yeah, I heard.” Kyle’s voice was flat as he rolled down the windows.

“The girls had a little too much to drink.” I settled back into the seat, and Cam and I shared a look.

Kyle shook his head with a frustrated sigh. “I can see that. Why didn’t you take better care of them?”

My eyes narrowed, and I glared at him in the rearview. “Because they’re fucking grown women, and I’m not a babysitter.”

Cam scowled. “And anyway, we did take care of them.”

Kyle scoffed. “No, you lost one and the other one’s about to puke in my brand new Cadillac.”

“Hey, man,” I shot. “Watch your shit, okay? I’m the one who just carried one of them out of a football stadium, not you.”

“Whatever,” Kyle said, pouting. “We’re all tired and pissed off, okay?”

Cam’s scowl disappeared as she leaned into me. “No, you’re pissed on.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “And you’re puked on.”

“What a pair,” she said, smiling up at me.

And all I could do was kiss her.

CLARK KENT NEVER WINS

Cam

KYLE WAS RIGHT, WE REALLY did smell terrible.

We made it across Jersey and back into Manhattan with Tracey only vomiting once more. Kyle made a show of it, and I really, really hoped there was some errant corn under the seat that could cook up and get nice and smelly just for him.

Tyler sat next to me, shirtless and beautiful, hair ruffled by the wind from the open windows. He held my hand in his lap, playing with my fingers as we sang along to Kyle’s music, too loud and too silly. He’d turned up the radio almost immediately once we got on the road — he was sulking pretty hard. Not only were his twins ruined for the night, but they’d stunk up his car. The asshole hadn’t even thanked us, not that we did any of it to help him. Because fuck him.

When we made it to the girls’ apartment, the guys helped them inside, Tyler carrying Casey — he’d already been marked, he said — and Kyle was the first one back in the car.

He turned, leaning on the arm rest to look back at me, his intentions hidden, though his cool, blue eyes glinted like metal. “What’s with you and Tyler?”

I shrugged and played dumb. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He smirked. “Yeah, you do. Did you sleep with him?”

My eyes narrowed. “Fuck you, Kyle.”

He put up his hands. “Hey, I don’t mean it like that. I’m just worried about him, you know? Like, I don’t know what’s gotten into him, if he’s having a breakdown or something, because you’re not his type. You’re the last person he would date, under normal circumstances. So I’m just trying to figure out if he’s okay, that’s all.”

My cheeks flushed from the shame of his words. “Aren’t you a hero.”

“I can be. I mean, I get what he sees in you, you know? You’re a good girl, and you’re all about him. It’s sweet. Doesn’t help that you’re pretty. You look good in a Giants jersey.” He had on sunglasses, but I could feel his eyes on me.

“Thanks,” I muttered, uncertain what else to say.

Tyler opened the door and climbed into the middle row, putting the seat down to let me up. I settled in next to him, hoping we were going home.

Kyle turned around and started the car. “The guys are meeting up at a bar, which was where I was supposed to take the twins. You guys still want to come?”

“I think we’re ready to get home and shower the day off,” Tyler said, and I gave him a look that I hoped told him how much I would thank him for that later.

He shrugged and gave us a sour, one-word answer: “Whatever.”

It wasn’t long before we were finally home — I even found it in my heart to thank Kyle for the tickets and the ride, even though I felt like keying his car just for being a douchelord. And the second he drove away, I felt a thousand times better.

We passed Mrs. Frank and Kafka in the entry, checking her mail. She beamed at us when she saw we were holding hands, winking at me after she took a second to note Tyler’s shirtlessness.

I sighed as we walked up the stairs.

“I feel the same way,” Tyler said.

“I just want a shower and pajamas, stat.”

“You take it first,” he offered.

“No, you go. Your showers are quicker, and you got peed on.”

He chuckled. “All right, if you insist.”

We rounded the landing. “Sometimes I wonder why you hang out with Kyle.”

He blew out a breath. “Sometimes I wonder the same thing. I mean, today was especially bad, since his plans to bang a set of blond twins were foiled.”

A laugh burst out of me. “I just pictured Kyle in a top hat and monocle grumbling, Foiled again!”

Tyler unlocked the door, chuckling. “He’s so pissed.”

“And he didn’t even get pissed on.”

He snorted. “If only he had, though. Can you imagine how mad he would have been?”

“Yes, and I would pay good money to witness it.”

We walked inside and I clicked on the lights, moving straight to the bathroom to swap out my sunglasses for my actual glasses. He walked in behind me, smiling at me in the mirror, pee shirt still hanging over his naked shoulder.

“You sure you don’t want to go first?”

I smiled back. “I’m sure.”

“All right,” he said, bending to lay a quick peck on my lips, and I made my way out as he turned on the shower.

Within thirty seconds, my thoughts had run completely away. Everything that had happened between us clattered through my brain like a freight train.

It all started with Kyle.

I replayed our exchange in the car, hearing his words. You’re the last person he’d date. And he was right. Why would Tyler really want anything to do with me? I’d been through this before, but losing Tyler would be a thousand times harder than what happened with Will and I.

We were in a vacuum, an insulated bubble, holding reality at bay. I felt the speed at which we were moving, even though we weren’t moving physically fast. My heart was already his, and I wondered how much of him wanting me was just the newness, the excitement of knowing that I wanted him that fueled his need to be near me.

Maybe when we went back to our lives, it would just disappear. Evaporate. And then where would we be?

I tried to shake off the anxiety, but in the five minutes it took him to shower, I’d wound myself up like a pair of gag teeth. When he walked out of the shower in nothing but a towel and a smile, that puff of steam behind him like I’d seen a million times, I thought my ribcage might explode. When he bent down to kiss me on the way to his room and I felt the steam rolling off of him, what was left of my heart stopped. And when I walked into the bathroom to shower myself, I was certain the whole thing was inches away from imploding.

It couldn’t be real, I told myself as I stepped into the steaming shower. Kyle had said it right — You’re the last person he’d date. We weren’t a good match. We didn’t make any sense. None. It didn’t matter that I wanted to be with him. We were doomed from the start.

He’d regret being with a girl like me. I knew it as deeply as I knew my store, the bar, my comics. I was a Clark Kent with no other stronger self to redeem me. And he was the Lois Lane, the beautiful, unattainable one who needed someone larger than life. Clark didn’t have it in him to be with Lois. Only Superman.

But I was no Superman.

I felt a little shaky as I exited the shower, drying my hair with a towel, drying my body, my heart too soaked to break.

Tyler glanced at me over his shoulder as I walked out. He smiled, and I tried to return it, but it felt wrong, betraying my fears. Before he could notice, I ducked into my room and closed the door to dress mindlessly. Leggings. My Batgirl T-shirt. Taco socks. Then I took a deep breath and stepped out to face the music.

A book lay split open in his lap, and I smiled as I sat next to him, my back against the arm so I could face him.

“You’re reading,” I said, not ready to face the truth.

He nodded and closed the book to look at the cover. He held it up in display, though I’d known what it was the second I saw him holding it.

The Hobbit.

My chest ached at the smile on his face as he looked at the cover. “You said the other day that it was the book that turned you into a reader, so I thought it could do the same for me. I found it on the shelf the other day, and when I started it …” He met my eyes. “Why didn’t you ever give it to me before?”

“Because I was afraid you’d hate it,” I answered honestly.

“I don’t hate it. Cam, I love it. It’s brilliant.”

“Kiss me,” I said, not wanting to think about the reasons we were the same or different, only wanting to feel his lips against mine.

He smiled and leaned in, cupping my neck. “Anything you want.”

I pulled in a breath through my nose as our lips met, the clean smell of him working its way through me as our mouths moved together with ease, like they knew what to do, fitting together effortlessly.

I couldn’t figure out how it could feel so right and still be wrong.

You’re the last person he’d date.

I broke away, laid a hand on his chest. “Tyler …”

His thumb grazed my collarbone, and I hung my free hand on his forearm. “What?”

“I … I don’t know if this is right.”

Worry passed across his face, furrowing his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean … we’re so different.” I struggled to find the words. “We come from different places, different worlds. I’ve never been with anyone like you before.”

“I’ve never been with anyone like you, either.” He smiled, thumb shifting against my skin. “And I feel more at home than I have in a long time.”

I shook my head, unwilling to let myself believe it was true, repeating Kyle’s words aloud. “I’m the last person you’d usually date.”

“And that’s my mistake. I’ve been looking in the wrong place all along.” His eyes searched mine. “What’s this really about, Cam?”

“What if tomorrow, whatever this is between us is gone? What if it’s just … I don’t know. A mirage. What if you’re just drunk on me? What if when you sober up you don’t want me anymore?”

“And what if it’s not? Do you think I’m not sincere? Don’t you trust me?”

I squeezed his arm. “Of course I trust you, but I’m not your type. I’m not the girl who can rub elbows with important people or get along with guys like Kyle just because I have to. I’m not the girl with mile-long legs and a closet full of designer dresses who spends her nights going to parties and clubs.”

He frowned. “None of that means anything to me.”

But I just kept talking. “I’m not the popular girl. I’m not the cheerleader, and that’s who guys like you end up with, not the drama girls or the band nerds.”

“Cam—”

“No. I’m not the kind of girl you normally go after, and I think that’s a sign that this isn’t right for you. I don’t want you to wake up one day wondering how you got stuck with someone like me.”

His brow dropped, and his eyes, hard and fiery, pierced my heart. “Cam, listen to me. There are no cheerleaders or popular girls. There is no right or wrong. There’s just you and me. Part of the reason why I want you is because you’re not like the other girls I’ve dated. You’re exactly who you are, and that’s exactly why I want to be with you.”

I took a shaky breath. “Why won’t you just let me break up with you?”

“Kiss me.”

I sighed, chest aching. “Tyler—”

“I mean it. Kiss me. If you don’t feel it, if you don’t want me, then walk away. But don’t walk away because of some presumption about how I feel.” Fear and pain flitted behind his eyes. “Kiss me, Cam, and tell me if you still want me.”

“All right,” I said softly, my pulse quickening. His hand tightened in the curve of my neck, his fingers in my hair, and I leaned in, closing my eyes.

My lips connected with his without needing to see — they could have found him in the dark or a thousand miles away. I breathed him in, slipped my tongue into his mouth, and he let me in. He let me kiss him without prompting, without guiding me, just let me lead on my own. But I didn’t need any convincing from him. I let my heart go, and it took over. My hands were in his hair. His hands were around my waist. I was in his lap. And I didn’t want it to end.

When I finally broke away, my eyelids were heavy, and I looked up at him, knowing it wouldn’t be easy to walk away from him, and I couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I just hoped he didn’t end up walking away from me.

I lay cradled in his arms and touched his cheek, feeling the slight scratch of stubble over his hard jaw. “I still want you,” I whispered, unable to deny it.

And he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to mine. “Then don’t fight it. I’m yours.”

Clark Kent Never Wins

Tyler

I tightened my arms to bring her as close as I could to kiss again, this time taking her lips like she’d taken mine, trying with everything in me to ease her mind.

I hated that she wasn’t certain. That she didn’t feel right. Because I did. I felt so right about her that it was an absolute truth, she and I, and undeniable fact of the universe. I’d do whatever it took to convince her I was serious about her, that it wasn’t a passing feeling for me.

But even then I knew there was only so much I could do. If she didn’t get out of her own head, we could be doomed.

I tried not to think about that.

Instead, I thought about the sweetness of her lips, her fingers in my hair, her small body against mine. And just like the night before, we kissed for what felt like minutes or hours, until our bodies were heavy and lips swollen. When I broke away, she looked at me with hooded eyes.

“Can we go to bed?” she asked, her voice rough.

“Whatever you want, Cam.”

I kissed her again to punctuate the promise, and when she sat up with a sigh and climbed off the couch, I felt the loss of her warmth like an omen. But I made my way to my bedroom to change, meeting her in the bathroom where we brushed our teeth like we had a million times before.

But now, it was different. I watched her in the mirror as I scrubbed my teeth and she tied back her hair and picked up her toothbrush. Her T-shirt was small, maybe even a kid’s shirt, with an illustration of Gambit on the front flicking the ace of hearts. She didn’t have on a bra — I couldn’t help but notice the curve of her breasts, shifting slightly as she brushed. When she bent over the sink, my eyes found the swell of her ass in tiny black sleep shorts, and I marveled that anyone could make something so mundane as brushing their teeth so sexy.

It took every ounce of willpower I had not to pop that ass, if nothing more than just to hear her squeal and giggle.

We switched places for my turn at the sink, and afterward, I moved out of the way so she could wash her face, leaning on the doorframe with my arms folded.

She sighed and pressed a hand towel to her face. “I can’t believe the weekend is already over.”

“I know. Work tomorrow is going to suck.”

She turned to me, her face a little sad, and she moved close, laying her cheek against my bare chest as she wrapped her arms around my waist. “I’m sorry I’m a mess, Tyler.”

I held her close, slipping a hand into her hair, holding her against me. “Don’t be sorry. I get it. Feel better?”

“I do. I think I might need a lot of reassurance, and I’m afraid it’s going to push you away.”

“Don’t be afraid. I don’t scare easy, and I’m patient. Just talk to me when you have doubts so I can remind you of the truth.”

“You’re too good to be true, Tyler.” Her voice was tinged with regret.

“Nah. I’m just me, and I know you. I trust you, and if you trust me, then we’ll be fine.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment as she leaned on me in the silence, and I just held her and let her be. “Will you stay with me again tonight?” she finally asked.

There wasn’t anywhere else I’d rather be. I bent down and kissed her hair. “Of course.”

She sighed again, this time the sound full of relief, and propped her chin so she was looking up at me. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I bent down as best as I could with her in my arms, neck straining to kiss her. She rose up on her tip toes to meet my lips.

She took my hand, and I followed her to her dark bedroom, the two of us climbing into her bed in silence.

We found each other in the dark. She tucked into my chest, and I wrapped her up, both of us quiet, though I felt the weight of the silence as we lay together. Two days ago, I couldn’t have been here, in her bed. Two days ago, and for a year before that, we were separate. But with a word and a kiss, I’d been let in. I’d let her in just the same.

But I could lose it all again with another word, a word I hoped I’d never hear. How strange it was that something so small could end a thing, or begin one. That something so simple could change two people so deeply.

“I don’t want to sleep,” she said softly.

“What do you want to do?” I asked, my heart thumping.

“Kiss you more.”

I chuckled. “Kiss me more.”

So she arched her back, pressing her body against mine, and she did.

Our legs wound together, hips meeting. My hand moved down her ribs, down the bend in her waist, to her hip as her legs tightened, bringing us even closer together. I rolled until I arched over her, kissing her deep, trying to separate our hips. Because with her so close, I didn’t know if I could keep my cool.

Her hand trailed down my chest, down my abs, around my waist, fingers slipping just under the band of my jersey sleep pants. Her hips rolled toward mine again, legs squeezing to bring us closer together, and I let her, happy to give her what she wanted, hoping I could hang on and not push her. Her thigh was so soft under my palm, and I dug my fingers in gently. A soft hum passed her lips, and I let go to touch her face, wanting nothing more than to hear that sound again.

She broke away, leaning back.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah. Better than fine. We’ve barely touched and I already don’t know if I can stop.”

“I know.” I kissed her tenderly.

She sighed. “Can we wait a little longer?”

“We can wait as long as you want, Cam.”

She didn’t say anything, and I wished I could see her face. “Why are you perfect?”

“I’m far from perfect.”

“You’re spot on, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Ditto,” I said and kissed her again, hoping she knew how much I meant it.

BIG BAD BRAINS

Cam

THE AGGRESSIVE BEEPING OF MY alarm woke me the next morning, and I loathed the sound, not because it woke me up, but because it meant I had to get out of bed. And Tyler was in my bed.

He sighed, still mostly asleep as I turned off the offending noise, and when I looked back, I paused for just a second to watch him. The sun streamed in softly through the window, and he lay on his back, one hand under his pillow, the other on his chest. The muscles of his arms, his chest and stomach, the curves and shadows of his long body as he lay next to me simply beautiful.

I was filled with a sense of possession and wonder, the feeling so strong that I needed to transfer the emotion, pass it to him so he’d know how I felt, so I slipped back into bed and curled into him, pulling the covers up to my chin.

He wrapped his arms around me, turning so I was tucked in his chest. “Morning,” he said, voice rough.

“Morning.” I nestled deeper into his chest, eyes closed, breathing deep, wishing I could stay right there all day.

“I don’t wanna go to work.” His words rumbled through me.

I chuckled. “I was just thinking that.”

“What are you up to today?”

I leaned back so I could see him. “Rose and I are working together all day on administrative stuff. Super boring. But at least we have each other, and there will be drinks at lunch, so I guess I can’t complain. You?”

He propped his head on his hand and looked down at me. “Jack is back from Atlanta, so we’ll have a busy day getting caught up, I’m sure.”

“We’re lucky our bosses don’t suck.”

“We’re lucky our bosses love whiskey.”

I laughed. “Ugh, it’s so warm right here. Six in the morning shouldn’t exist.”

He ran his hand around my waist and pulled me a little closer. “The early bird doesn’t want to get out of bed?”

“Not when it’s Knight time. Get it? Knight?” I poked his chest.

He laughed, his brown eyes soft. “This weekend’s been …”

“A disaster?” I joked.

“The football game, maybe. But I was going to say unexpected, and in the best possible way.”

My heart fluttered. “I still can’t believe it even happened, which makes it that much harder to get back to the grind.”

He lay down on the pillow next to me again, close enough that his face wasn’t blurry for lack of my glasses. I could see all the little details — the flecks of amber in his dark irises, the occasional blond eyelash, the creases in his lips.

“Are you still worried?” he asked. “About us?”

“Right now, no,” I answered truthfully. “But I worry about when we’re apart. My imagination is … well, it’s big, and it runs away. This scares me.”

He smirked. “You don’t say?”

I chuckled, so thankful he could joke about it when I’d tried to break up with him the night before. Shame washed over me. “Big brains are sometimes a big problem.”

But he smiled. “I love your big brains. The bigger the better, I always say.”

“I love big brains and I cannot lie.” I sang, wiggling my butt as much as I could while laying down.

He tried to spank me as I jiggled, and we laughed. When we’d stilled, he pushed my hair back and trailed his fingers under my ear, down my neck.

“Okay, so you need reassurance. I can reassure you.” He crinkled his eyes in thought. “Let’s see. How can we be together all day and also be at work?” he asked.

“Hmm,” I hummed, thinking. “Pocket voodoo dolls?”

“Too morbid,” he said. “Texting and emailing seems too obvious.”

I chuckled. “So passé.” I got an idea and rolled over onto my back, holding my hand up. I took off my thumb ring and reached for his hand. Problem was, his hand was gigantic — he could basically palm my entire face. But in some twist of fortune, it fit snugly on his left pinkie.

He inspected his hand. “I like it. It kind of puts out that Godfather feel. Does it make me look dangerous?” He made a menacing face.

I laughed. “No.”

Tyler smiled. “Well, I’ve got something of yours, but that doesn’t really help your big brains remember that I think you’re amazing.” His face lit up, and he rolled away from me. “Hang on, I’ve got it.”

I smiled and reached for my glasses, propping myself up in bed as he walked out and back in, climbing back in on top of the covers to lie down on his stomach.

“Give me your hand.”

I laid my small hand in his big one, and he revealed his worn, faded friendship bracelet, smiling like he’d had the best idea ever. I’d never seen him take it off before, not as long as I’d known him. The ties were frayed and crimped where it had been knotted for so long.

I laughed. “Seriously, Tyler? First of all, isn’t it against some law of the universe to recycle a friendship bracelet someone else gave to you?”

He shrugged. “I bought it with my allowance when I went to the Grand Canyon with my family. I was twelve. I got it to give away, but I never wanted to give it to anyone, besides Kyle. But we were in college, and college football players don’t exchange friendship bracelets.”

The thought faltered my smile, and I reached for his face, leaning forward to kiss him. “Okay,” I said, leaning back. “But second problem is that you’re giving me a symbol of friendship to remind me that you think of me as more than a friend.”

He smirked. “Well, if I told you I bought it to give to my one true love, would you believe me?”

I laughed, trying to forget he’d just used the word love. “No, I wouldn’t believe you.”

“Good, because it would have been a lie. But really, Cam,” he said as his finger stroked my wrist, his eyes on my hand. “I’ve worn it since I bought it, and for all those years, I wanted to give it to someone. No one’s ever deserved it before, not like you do. Will you wear it?” He met my eyes, his words full of hope, colored with uncertainty.

My chest ached. “Of course I’ll wear it, Tyler.”

He bent and kissed my palm. “Thank you,” he said as he wrapped the bracelet around my wrist and tied it tight. “Now, come on, let me make you some eggs before we start this shitty day. Because the sooner we start, the sooner it’s over and we’re back here together.”

I smiled, feeling a hundred feet tall and bulletproof. “Lead the way.”

I made coffee while he showered, he made the eggs while I watched him. We dressed and headed to the train station together, where he picked me up like he did, with my feet dangling off the ground, kissing me sweetly before we parted ways. I skipped nearly all the way to work, unlocking the door to Wasted Words and humming as I walked through the quiet store and to the office.

Rose was already there, hair in a messy bun, wearing leggings and an oversized sweater, prepared for a day locked in the office, no doubt. She yawned, waving at me when she saw me.

“Morning,” I chimed.

Her eyebrow rose, and she looked me over, skeptical. “What are you so chipper about?”

I shrugged and set down my bag. “Aren’t I always chipper in the mornings?”

“Maddeningly, yes. But you’re extra-special chipper this morning.”

“Well, it’s a fine morning, wouldn’t you say?”

Her suspicion deepened. “Seriously, what’s this all about?” She motioned to all of me.

I smiled. “I maybe hung out with Tyler all weekend.”

She still looked confused. “What do you mean? You always hang out with Tyler all weekend.” Then it dawned on her. “Oh. Oh, you hung out with him?”

I giggled like a teenager. “I mean, he didn’t hang out. Or in. Or, I mean, we didn’t—”

Rose snorted. “Yeah, I get it. Now, spill the details.”

I pulled out the chair at my desk, which faced hers. “Well, I set him up on a date with Adrienne—”

“Hot Catwoman?”

“Yeah. And when he left, I ate a gallon of ice cream and regretted it completely.”

“The ice cream or the date?”

“The date. The ice cream was a blessing. But he came home early and kissed me.”

“Just like that?” she asked, disbelieving. “He just opened the door and marched up to you and kissed you?”

I wrinkled my nose, but I was smiling. “No. I maybe told him I wanted him to.”

She laughed. “Oh, my God.”

“I just blurted it out like a crazy person, and then he marched up to me and kissed me. We spent all that night and yesterday and last night together.”

Her brow was up again. “And you didn’t hook up? How is that possible? Tyler is a lot of man. I don’t know if I would have been able to resist.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t exactly easy. I’m a little worried about that too, the size of the man. I have genuine concern for the well-being of my vag.”

“Your vag can handle more than you think.”

“Maybe. Can you bruise your cervix?”

She laughed. “I don’t know. Google it.”

I opened my laptop, curious, typing in the search. “Ugh. Yes. Shit.”

Her smile fell. “Seriously?”

I turned the computer to face her and held a hand out in display. Her face wrinkled up as she read.

“Ouch. There’s nothing you can do about it either.”

I sat back in my chair. “Yeah, can’t exactly ice that.”

“I mean, you could …”

Now my face wrinkled up.

She was still reading, and she leaned a little closer to the screen. “Oh, my God. Did you know your vagina gets longer when you’re turned on?”

My jaw hung open. “Get the fuck out.”

“No, apparently that’s for real. Look.” She turned the laptop so we could both see.

I read through. “Holy fucking shit. So he can’t just go ram his rod in there.”

“Well, I hope he doesn’t do that anyway.”

“Me too. It also says it’s lower before your period. What the fuck, it’s like an accordion.”

She laughed. “Or a slinky.”

“Ew.”

Rose shook her head. “So you slept in the same bed?”

I sighed and closed my computer. “Yeah. We just kissed. Like, for hours.”

“He didn’t even get to second base?”

“Nope, because if there were base action, it would have ended up in at least a triple. We’re holding out. I’m not quite ready for that … I mean, he’s still my roommate. Not that I’m trying to wait like a month or anything, but I want to make sure we’re smart about things before we just go banging.”

She nodded, appeased. “Fair enough.”

“Plus, he’s got to be the best cuddler in the world. Like, he’s just so big.”

Rose laughed. “He really is huge.”

I sighed and rocked my office chair back and forth. “I dunno. He didn’t pressure me and I was okay with that. I don’t think I’ll hold out long though.”

“I wouldn’t fault you for caving.” She smirked at me and shook her head. “You and Tyler. I mean, I hate to say ‘Finally!’ but seriously, Cam. You guys have been circling each other for as long as I’ve known you.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t see it that way at all. I didn’t think he could ever want someone like me. He was just my buddy from the start. My really hot buddy who was too sexy for his shirt.”

“So sexy it hurts.” She laughed. “I’m not as attracted to the good boys, but for you, he’s kinda perfect.”

You’re the last person he’d date. I pushed Kyle’s voice away, touching Tyler’s bracelet to remind me of his words from this morning. But it was too late. My smile had fallen, and Rose’s did too.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. It’s just weird, you know? He’s a filet mignon, and I’m tofu. We don’t really make a meal that’s not laughable.”

“I think he’s like peanut butter and you’re like jelly. Why do you focus so much on your differences?”

I huffed. “Because people work based on their commonalities, not their differences.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Some people would say that they work based on elements you can’t control.”

“Well, those people are dumb. It’s chemistry and math. People are like pegs and holes.”

She snickered.

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean. It’s the things that are the same that make them fit into each other.”

“So one puts their peg in the other one’s hole.”

“Yeah, but it has to fit.” I made a rude hand gesture using the OK sign and my index finger.

“It can fit tight, right?”

I tightened the O around my finger. “I mean, if it doesn’t fit tight then it’s kind of a loss anyway, right?”

“It’s too early,” Rose said with a laugh. “I think we’re delirious.”

I chuckled. “Maybe.”

She let out a breath. “I’m just saying. Let it be what it is and don’t overthink it.”

“That’s like saying, ‘Hey, Cam, could you just stop breathing for the indefinite future?’”

“True. But you can try.”

I sighed. “Yeah, I can try.”

Tyler

I walked into work that morning with a spring in my step — everything seemed brighter, bigger, better than it had been the last time I’d been there. Jack was already in his office, sleeves rolled up, phone hooked in his shoulder as he jotted down notes.

I waved as I walked in, and he flagged me, motioning for me to come inside and wait.

“Sure thing. Got it. No, sir, I feel the same way about it.” He laughed. “You and me both. I’ll talk too you soon, Jim.” He set the phone back on its cradle and smiled at me. “Good to see you, kid.”

“You too. I’m sure glad you’re back.”

He chuffed. “That makes two of us. Atlanta’s hot even in the fall, especially with the press lights pointed at you.”

I nodded. “Everything looks good on the PR front. I think you did it, Jack.”

His smile fell. “Yeah, well. Pharaoh at least has an inkling of self-preservation. I’ll give him credit for that. Rehab was the only way to save him, even if it is a farce. He’s not an alcoholic. Just stupid.”

“And mouthy.”

“Yes, and that.” He leaned back in his chair. “You did well without me, Tyler. Cathy said you held down the fort well, and it looks like his sponsors are placated. I appreciate you handling it all without me — I had my hands full with Pharaoh. How’d you feel about it?”

“It felt good. I mean, it was stressful and shitty — no one wants to get yelled at by an angry mob of corporate reps — but I felt capable. Like I knew what to do and how to keep things tamped down.”

He nodded. “Well, no one can say you’re not ready. You even held down the Nike account.”

I smirked and took a seat across from him. “Thanks to Adrienne. I ran into her last week.”

He raised a brow. “Oh?”

“She asked me out.”

The other brow raised. “Oh?”

I leaned back in my seat, amused. “Yeah, but it wasn’t quite right. I think we’ll be friends instead.”

His brows fell. “Oh.”

I chuckled. “I had a bit of a realization, thanks to Adrienne, and I ended up spending the weekend with Cam.”

“You spend most of your weekends with Cam.”

I gave him a look.

His brows popped up again. “Oh! Well,” he said with a laugh, “it’s about damn time.”

I smiled. “I’ve gotta be honest — I wish I’d made a move a long time ago.”

“Everything in its time. I’m happy for you, kid. You deserve a good girl who’s going to treat you right after all the disappointment you’ve suffered. Cam’s a good girl, and a good cook. You can’t go wrong with a girl who sends you to work with baked goods.”

“I’ll tell her you said so.”

He smiled at me from under his mustache. “How are things with Darryl?”

“The same. Just sort of holding out to see him this weekend for the game.”

“Ah, yes. It’ll be good to have you on the field with him for the game. I know at least two other agencies are after him, and who knows what they’re promising him.”

I shook my head. “He’s a good kid, wants what’s right. Wants somebody to look after him, and that’s what we do. Not just after ourselves. I have faith.”

“I’m glad.” He turned to his computer. “All right. Let’s work on getting caught up. Go get settled in, answer your emails, and then come on back. We’ll take lunch in here and we can bring each other up to speed.”

“Sounds good.” I made my way into my office and took a seat, turning on my computer to start the day. And what a long day it was.

The emails were many. The phone calls didn’t stop. Jack and I spent every minute we could discussing everything I’d done and everything he’d done, getting all the data in order to ensure we didn’t leave any loose ends. Pharaoh was set to check into a luxury rehab facility in two days, and we only had two sponsors on the fence about sticking with him, both of which we set up lunches with later in the week.

We ended up taking dinner in Jack’s office too, and I’d had no time to check my phone, but I’d been thinking about Cam all day. The cool metal against my pinkie was a reminder of her, the strange newness of having the ring on my finger just like the strange newness of our relationship — something I knew that in time I’d not think of strangely unless it was absent.

It was a comfort, and I’ll admit that I didn’t want to get used to the feeling. I hoped it always felt this new.

By the time we were ready to pack it in for the night, it was after nine, and I was so ready to be home, I could barely stand it. When I finally checked my phone, there were a couple of texts from just after noon:

Kyle: Hey, man. Sorry about yesterday. Let’s have a drink soon. Say when.

Cam: Hope your Monday is less shitty than mine! Can’t wait to see you tonight.

I smiled and texted her back. It was the shittiest, but I’m on my way home to you now.

And with that, I slipped my phone in my pocket and left as fast as I could.

CRAZY PANTS

Cam

I GLANCED OVER MY SHOULDER to look at the fridge, contemplating its contents for the hundredth time that night. It may as well have had a bomb in it.

My phone sat on the shelf between the milk and the kimchi, where it had been since I’d walked in the door. It was for the safety of my budding relationship that I deposited it in its cold quarters, a place where it would be safe from my fingers, which itched even now to check for messages or fire off an awkward text.

I’d like to tell you I’m not this neurotic all the time, but it would be a lie. I’d been thinking about Tyler all day, but I hadn’t heard from him at all. I sent him a text, and he didn’t respond, and my brain couldn’t maintain its chill.

Now, don’t look at me like that — I knew he had a crazy day ahead of him, but like I’d told Tyler — I had an overeactive imagination, and between that and my anxiety about what was going on between us, I was basically a wreck. My thoughts through the day went something like this:

I can’t wait to hear from him.

I’m sure he’s just super busy.

He’ll text any minute now.

He’s probably dead.

No, he’s definitely in Adrienne’s office, banging her on her gigantic power desk.

Stop being crazy.

I bet he’s been thinking about you like you’ve been thinking about him.

Maybe he got in an accident and has amnesia and will never remember kissing you ever again.

So I put my phone in the fridge.

It hadn’t really helped. Neither had my book, which was sitting in my lap, ignored.

I’d like to say I had no idea why I was so twisted up about Tyler, but it would be a lie. It wasn’t like I hadn’t had boyfriends before, but I usually only dated my equals. Especially after Will. But I told myself again that Tyler was different, and by rule, I should let him in. I trusted him, I really did. But years of working against doing the very thing I found myself doing wasn’t doing me any favors.

The scale didn’t feel so even when it came to Tyler, and that anxiety I’d felt with Will was as fresh and tender as it had been that day all those years ago. Because I didn’t know if I could handle Tyler leaving me with as much grace as I had Will.

I smiled wryly at myself — I’d always prided myself on being a chill girlfriend, never needy with my man, not caring if the guy I was dating had plans, but here I found myself, having to hide my phone so I wouldn’t obsessively stare at it or worse: send him some crazy-shit message.

I sighed and sank into the couch, fiddling with Tyler’s bracelet, wishing I had someone to talk me down. My best friend was Jane, who I hadn’t seen since Christmas. She was so busy these days with two babies under three that she went hard all day and was passed out by nine every night. Mostly, I just didn’t want to bother her because I knew she had her hands full.

My next closest girlfriend was Rose, and although I knew she’d gladly tell me to stop being ridiculous, she’d already been doing that for most of the day. It had started off fine, honestly, but the longer I went without hearing from Tyler, the louder the voice in my head grew -- to the point that I was certain he was going to walk in the door and dump me.

A cold chill rolled down my back at the thought.

I took a deep breath and closed my book with a snap. There was only one thing to be done.

I walked into the kitchen, opened the cabinet under the sink, grabbed the all-purpose cleaner, and headed to the bathroom.

By the time the mirror was spotless, the sink had been detailed, the floor around the toilet was mopped, and the bathtub was nice and shiny, I felt a little better. I took the opportunity of a freshly cleaned tub to shower, sighing under the steaming hot water, letting it rinse away my worry. Or at least dull its edge a little.

I’d feel better when he was home. But I also had to find a way to stop myself from worrying. I’d always had anxiety — not enough to decide to medicate, but enough that in certain situations, like the one I was in, my thoughts would run away, dragging me behind them until I was lost. Most of the time, I could logic my way out of it. And it wasn’t all bad — that same anxiety made me a thorough worker.

But in a relationship? I’d scare him off if I wasn’t careful. He’d been so good to humor me so far, but everyone had a limit.

I had to get it together. And to get it together, I had to have faith.

Put so simply, it sounded easy. But if my behavior over the last few days was any indication, I had a long way to go to get there.

My shower ended with the squeak of the faucet and a fluffy towel against my skin. Glasses were on, and once my hair and body were patted down, I opened the door, tucking the towel tail between my breasts, thinking about my phone in the fridge.

When I looked up, Tyler stood in front of me. It took me a millisecond to realize it was him and not a rapist, and in that millisecond, I jumped about four inches and screamed at around a hundred decibels. My hand jerked — the same hand holding the end of the towel — and it dropped, landing in a pile at my feet.

I froze.

He froze.

And then I sprang into action, bending over to grab the towel and clutch it to my chest, face steaming red. When I looked back up, he was smirking — tall and dark and smirking at me with fire in his eyes.

“Honey, I’m home.”

I laughed and dropped my face into my free hand. “Oh, my God.”

He pulled me into a hug, careful not to disturb my towel or touch any naked skin that would have been considered out of bounds. “Can you greet me like this every day when I come home?”

“I want to die.” I muttered into his chest.

“Why? That was seriously the highlight of my day.”

I laughed again, feeling ridiculous. “Let me go put some clothes on.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Not too many,” he whispered as he pulled away, winking at me before turning into his room.

I felt giddy and a little lightheaded as I dressed in the dim room, hearing him moving around the apartment and into the kitchen. I’d just pulled on my shorts when I heard his footsteps in the hallway.

When I turned, he was leaning on the doorframe in his pajamas, holding my phone, looking amused. “So I found this in the fridge.”

I smiled sheepishly. “Weird.”

“Care to share why?” he asked with a smirk.

I walked over to him and reached for it. “Nope.”

He held it up. “Ah, ah, ah.”

I jumped for it, and he held it out of my reach.

I hung my hands on my hips and glared at him. “Not fair.”

“Why was your phone in the fridge, Cam?” He bent, reaching with his free hand to wrap his arm around my waist, pulling me to him. When he stood, he took me with him. “Come on. Tell me.”

“No. It’s embarrassing.” I wound my arms around his neck to make it a little easier for him.

“More embarrassing than screaming like you were in a horror movie and ending up accidentally naked in the hallway?”

My cheeks flushed. “Yes.”

He kissed me, and I melted into him. When he broke away, he nuzzled in my ear. “Please, tell me.”

“It’s dumb,” I muttered.

He pulled back to look at me and smiled. “I’m sure it isn’t. What’s going on? I promise, I won’t think it’s dumb.”

“I dunno, Tyler,” I said, and then it all just fell out of my mouth like verbal vomit. “I just … I didn’t hear from you all day, which isn’t a big deal, don’t get me wrong. Like, it’s not your fault, I knew you were busy,” I rambled, “but I just kept thinking about you and wondering if you were okay, if we were okay, and I was losing my mind, so I put my phone in the fridge so I’d stop checking it, okay?” I took a breath.

His smile fell. “I’m sorry, Cam. We were just so busy—”

“No, no. Don’t apologize, seriously. It’s my anxiety, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just don’t want you to think I’m crazy.”

“Well, I mean, you did put your phone in the fridge,” he teased.

I tried to smile.

He kissed me again and walked me backward toward the bed, laying me down. “Tell me what I have to do, Cam.” He crawled onto the bed, hovering over me, his eyes dark and pleading. “Tell me what I need to say,” he whispered.

I cupped his jaw. “Nothing,” I said softly. “You’ve already given me so much.”

He bent to press his lips to mine and kissed me with intention, with ownership and sweet command. My hands moved down his back, to the hem of his shirt and under. His skin was hot and soft, and I imagined it against mine.

The thought sent a ripple of need through me.

The kiss deepened, mouths wider, breath heavy, more intense than it had been before, feverish and earnest. His hips pressed against mine, the length of him hard against the length of me, and I moaned, flexing against him.

He broke away, kissing my jaw as my head dropped back, his hand splayed across my neck. “Cam,” he whispered, a plea and a warning.

But I didn’t want to wait anymore. I wanted him to know he’d done everything right.

I reached down to grab his shirt and tugged —  he backed away, kneeling between my legs to pull it off. I was mesmerized by the stretching of his body, the muscles on his chest as he tossed it, but before he bent down to kiss me again, I reached across my stomach for the hem of my own shirt, meeting his eyes before pulling it over my head, leaving me in nothing but my sleep shorts.

I don’t think he was breathing — I know for sure that I wasn’t — as his eyes moved down my body without a hint of pressure, only simple appreciation and care. He laid his body down on mine — the skin against skin everything I’d thought it would be —  propping himself on his forearms, caging me in his arms. His hands were in my hair, his eyes searching mine. And then he kissed me.

Everything was different than it had been — our hands, our lips, our breaths — the complacent kisses we’d exchanged gone, replaced with fire and need. He kissed me with devotion and promise. And when he broke away and looked into my eyes, I was lost.

He moved down my body, kissing from my neck to my collarbone, settling his chest between my legs. He watched his hands stroke the skin between my breasts, trailing his fingertips along the curve, leaving a riot of goosebumps in their wake. My hand slipped into his hair, my heart aching at the worship of him cupping my breast, his lids falling shut, the sight of him closing his lips over my nipple. I sighed, my fingers tightening with his teeth, his tongue sweeping a circle, pulling to suck.

My own lids closed, the feeling so divine, I couldn’t fight falling into him.

“Tyler,” I whispered.

He broke away, but didn’t come back to kiss my lips. He moved farther down my body instead.

His tongue trailed down my stomach, pausing when his lips would close in a kiss, only to start the path again. Lower he went until his long body was mostly off the bed, and he knelt at the foot, grabbing me by my hips to drag me to the end of the bed.

I couldn’t breathe, my heart pounding in my chest, in my ears as he looked up my body as if he could devour me. And then I realized that was precisely what he planned to do.

His fingers hooked in the band of my shorts and pulled. And with that one motion, I was completely naked in front of my dream guy.

He didn’t wait, just bent to kiss my thigh as he moved it to hook it on his shoulder, then the other as his tongue circled my skin, high enough that my nerves, rarely touched, tingled at the slightest contact. Every breath sent shocks through me, the anticipation heightening until he reached the top of my thigh.

I drew in a breath and held it for the long second he waited, and when he closed his lips over the tip of me, the breath slipped out of me in a sigh that left me weak to the bone.

His tongue moved against me, tracing unknowable shapes before he would suck gently, then start again, over and over, the rhythm strong and steady. I rolled against him, gasping when he slipped a finger into me, then another, curling to press the sensitive spot inside.

His free hand wound around my hip, up my ribs, to my breast, his fingers capturing my nipple as he flexed his palm. My back arched off the bed, and he moved faster, keeping time with my rolling hips, my heart a frantic metronome as I came closer. But he didn’t relent, just spurred me on, and when I finally opened my eyes and saw his face, intent, eyes closed, buried between my legs, it was too much. I cried out as my body flexed, head falling back, and I came by the grace of his lips and fingers and heart alone.

I sank back into the bed, lips parted, eyes still closed as my head lolled to the side, chest heaving as I listened to my pounding heart. His mouth had slowed to a gentle rocking, and when he broke away, he took a long moment to kiss up my body, finally settling in next to me. I rolled over to face him, slipping my leg between his as he wrapped his arms around me. I opened my heavy lids to look up at him, and he moved my damp hair back, eyes sweeping over my face like he was trying to memorize me.

I smiled.

He kissed me.

I could have died happy.

I leaned into him, deepening the kiss, ready to give it back to him, but he pulled back, laying his hand on mine where it rested on his cheek.

“You don’t have to, Cam.”

I took off my glasses and smirked. “No way are you giving me five-star oral and not getting something in return.

He smiled. “I’m glad it wasn’t three-star. There’s no way I could have lived with myself.”

“No, that was five-star, four-dollar-sign fine dining, sir.”

A laugh burst out of him, and I inched my hips closer, closing the space between us to kiss him, and I felt him relent, relaxing back onto the bed as I shifted to lean over him.

His hand was in my hair, mine on his bare chest, my breasts pressed against him, our legs entwined for a long moment before I moved down his body.

He watched as I climbed between his legs, bending to settle between his thighs, looking up his long torso as he looked down at me. My eyes closed, and I kissed the soft skin above the elastic band of his pants. He wasn’t wearing underwear — I could feel him, rock hard under the thin cotton — and as I licked and kissed gently, I hooked my fingers in the band and pulled until he was free.

Then, I tried not to freak out.

He was bigger — much bigger — than I’d anticipated … even feeling him against me hadn’t done him justice, and I prayed to the gag reflex gods that I wouldn’t accidentally puke. Because then I might actually die of shame.

I wet my lips and swallowed hard. And then I bowed my head, hands gripping his waist, and licked up the long line of his shaft.

He let out a deep sigh, and my nerves dissipated.

I hitched myself up enough to get to his crown and spent a moment circling it before closing my lips over the soft skin, sucking gently.

This time, he pulled in a breath with a hiss.

I let him go, running the tip of my nose down his shaft, licking a line back up, flicking gently when I hit the tip. And when I kissed his crown again, I dropped down as far as I could, fist closing around his base.

One of his hands found my hair, the other clasping my hand on the bed next to his waist, and I pulled up, sucking in a breath through my nose before dropping back down.

“Oh, God, Cam,” he breathed. “God …”

I dropped down again and again, tongue rolling around the tip when I reached it, dropping deeper each time as my throat relaxed. His body flexed underneath me, his breath heavy, and I dropped down deeper still, so deep that my eyes watered. But he was close, so on I went, arching my back, humming softly until he tightened his grip in my hair and on my hand. I knew it was a warning, but I kept going until his head snapped back into the bed, mouth open as he came with a deep gasp.

The power I felt in that moment was indescribable.

I slowed, finally letting him go, and the moment I did, he reached for my arms, pulling me up to meet him for a kiss. It was a long, sated kiss of gracious thanks, and we lay there together for a long while.

When I pulled away, I propped my head on my hand and smiled down at him. “I did it.”

He laughed and reached for my hair, pushing it over my shoulder, his fingers lingering there. “Yeah, you did. I didn’t have any doubts.”

“Really? Because I did.”

“I saw the look of fear on your face and almost stopped you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” I said.

He slipped a hand into my hair and laughed. “Me too.”

I leaned in to kiss him. “Will you sleep with me again?”

He smiled. “Yeah. But I need you to put on clothes. I don’t think I could stand having you naked all night next to me.”

I raised a brow. “Oh, so that wasn’t enough?”

“Oh, it was enough. But I can’t guarantee I won’t paw you awake in the middle of the night, and I have something better in mind for our first time.”

I laughed, blushing. “I have no argument for that.”

His fingers were still in my hair, working a lock between them. “I really am sorry I made you worry.”

“You didn’t,” I said softly. “I made me worry. You’ve done everything right, Tyler.”

“So have you.”

“I’ll settle down, I think.”

“But not too much.”

I chuckled. “Obviously. Have you met me?”

He laughed.

“Oh!” I perked up. “So everyone from Wasted Words is going bowling tomorrow night, want to go with me?”

“Sure, but I have to warn you — I’m a terrible bowler.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. You’ll see. And while we’re on invitations, I was wondering …” He paused, and my brow dropped.

“About what?”

He looked unsure of himself, which made me nervous. “I was waiting to ask — I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested in going, so I just wanted to give us a minute before I did.”

“Ask me what, Tyler?”

“I have a charity dinner to go to Thursday night. I was initially going to go alone, but now … well, I was hoping you’d be my date.”

Excitement and nerves and relief rolled through me. “Formal?”

“Cocktail.”

“I … I don’t have anything to wear.”

He looked crestfallen. “Yeah. It’s okay, you don’t have to go.”

I couldn’t stand to disappoint him and smiled, even at the prospect of going shopping. “I’d love to go with you.”

His face brightened, and I felt a million times better and worse. “Thank you. I’d hate to go without you, honestly.”

I kissed his sweet lips, quieting my nerves, pushing my past under the rug, smiling as I said, “Then I’ll be there.”

BADLY DONE

Tyler

THE NIGHT WAS SLOW AND easy, spent lying with Cam in my arms, talking for a while before we slept, and the next day was like any other, except that I was content, sated in life and body and soul, all together, all at the same time.

I walked in the door of our quiet apartment, knowing Cam was still at work, wishing she were home all the same. I had a few hours before I’d be meeting her to go bowling with everyone, and a small part of me wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself.

I made my way into my room and set down my bag on the bed, realizing I hadn’t slept there in days. In fact, I’d barely been in my room at all, only to change, really. And that was all I did even then, trading my navy slacks and plaid button-down for jeans and a T-shirt, which was the sum of what I needed to do to get ready to go.

I abandoned my room once again for the couch, picking up The Hobbit from where it lay on the coffee table, stretching out my legs before cracking it open.

It was amazing — Cam was right. I mean, Cam being right wasn’t amazing — she was always right. But she was right about finding a book that spoke to me. It was a strange magic, to be entranced by words, and I’d found myself devouring the novel, dog-earing pages that held passages that meant something to me, just as she had. I’d found that many she’d highlighted spoke to me too, and it almost felt like I was reading it with her.

My eyes found a quote on the page I’d left off on, highlighted by Cam in yellow: There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something. You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.

I smiled to myself. It may as well have been a quote to define our relationship. I didn’t find it odd at all that her first love affair with a book would be the same as mine — we were much more alike than I think either of us realized.

Minutes after picking it up, I was immersed in the story once more. My phone buzzed, breaking my attention, and I was surprised to see that it was almost time to leave.

A text from Martin waited on my lock screen.

You up for dinner tonight?

I fired off a message in return. Going bowling with Cam and her work friends, if you want to come with us.

Will Bayleigh be there?

I smirked. Pretty sure.

I’m in.

I sent him the details on when and where, all while trying to figure out how I’d explain his showing up to Cam. I was almost positive she wouldn’t find it amusing. I, on the other hand, thought it was a golden opportunity.

I’d seen Bayleigh and Greg together at singles night, and he didn’t seem into her at all. He didn’t seem not into her, but he was about as interested in her as he was anyone else there. But watching her and Martin together was a different story all together. I knew for sure that Martin liked her, and if it hadn’t been for Cam shutting him down, he probably would have asked Bayleigh out. And if I had to bet, I’d have bet she would have said yes.

Cam would be fine — she was an adult, and so were Bayleigh and Martin. It was just a bunch of friends getting together to bowl, no one was getting engaged, though I didn’t want to be the one to tell her Martin would be there.

I closed the book with a sigh and got up, pulling on my boots, thinking instead about the fact I was minutes away from picking up Cam, which was the second I’d been waiting for all day.

Cam

I made my way around the bar for the last time that evening as Beau counted his drawer behind me. The entire staff had shown up at Wasted Words for a drink before we walked to the bowling alley, and I looked around happily at everyone milling around. Rose sat at one end of the bar having a drink with Patrick, her boyfriend, her knees between his thighs as they smiled at each other. Greg and Harrison stood off by a cluster of couches, laughing, and when I turned, Bayleigh was making her way toward me with her arms full of liquor bottles.

“Here, let me help you,” I said, taking some of her haul.

“Thanks,” she said gratefully.

I nodded toward Greg. “He came.”

She smiled, her cheeks flushing, blond hair shining. “I know. He told me the other day he was planning on it.”

“Oh?” One brow rose as I imagined them walking home together, holding hands. “Have you guys been hanging out?”

She set a bottle of tequila on the shelf. “Just at work. We’ve been scheduled together a lot.” She gave me a sidelong look.

“Weird,” I joked.

She chuckled, arranging the bottles. “He’s just …” she sighed.

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure that’s an onomoto-adjective.” I sighed in echo. “I have that feeling about Tyler whenever he’s within thirty feet.”

She smiled. “I can’t wait to see you two together. Like together-together. Is it weird, being with him?”

“Kind of,” I said with a shrug. “Mostly I’m just scared to death.”

He brow quirked. “Scared? Why?”

“Because, I mean, have you seen him? I’m way out of my league right now.”

She nodded and set down a bottle of rum, adjusting it so the label was out. “Yeah. I feel the same about Greg.”

I made a face. “Don’t be crazy. You guys are great together.”

She sighed again, though this time the sound was heavy. “I don’t know, Cam. I mean, I’m still not even sure he’s all that into me.”

“I’ve seen him around you a lot lately. I mean, he walked you home the other night—”

She perked up. “And last night too.”

I nodded my agreement. “And last night too. Plus, when have you known me to be wrong?”

She still looked skeptical.

I turned her around to face the bar, and we leaned against the counter. “Look, case in point. See that couple over there?” I nodded toward Batman and The Reader, who sat next to each other, smiling.

“The skinny guy and the girl with the glasses?”

“Yup. They came in here last week, and you know how I got them together?”

“How?”

I smiled proudly. “A book. That was all it took. Sometimes people just need common ground and a little nudge. I’m the little nudge.”

“Well, you are pretty short,” she teased.

“Ha, ha. But really, though. Look at them.” We looked over — she was reading Inuyasha and his nose was in Outlander. They paused occasionally to share a line, smiling.

“They’re so cute. Good job, Cam.”

I shrugged. “It’s what I do. And when have I been wrong?”

“Never, as far as I can tell.”

I smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “So, trust me. I’ve got your back.”

She smiled back, seeming to be appeased. “All right.”

“So did you ask him about teaching you to skate yet?”

Bayleigh shook her head. “Maybe tonight, if we’re on the same team.”

“Well, we’ll just need to make sure you’re definitely on the same team then.”

She giggled, and we pushed off the counter. I made my way around to the register where Beau stood, tall and blond and handsome.

“You got all this tonight?” I asked.

He smirked. “Yup, but I’ve got you on speed dial, just in case.”

“Seriously, though, call me if you get slammed and I’ll send reinforcements. You bummed to miss bowling?”

“Not even a little. Last time I bowled, I got kicked out for sending two balls down the lane at once.”

“Why would you do that?” I asked with a laugh.

He chuffed. “The question is why wouldn’t I do that.”

I shook my head and walked out from behind the bar. “Be good, Beau.”

“Not if I can help it, but I’ll leave the bar in one piece.”

“Thanks, buddy.” I looked toward the door like I knew Tyler would be there. He walked in smiling so beautifully, and my heart did a little backflip because that smile was pointed right at me.

I did what I could not to actually bound into his arms, attempting to maintain my chill with absolutely zero luck.

“Hey,” he said as I approached.

“Hey.” I flushed, breathless as I wrapped my arms around his waist, and he leaned down — I popped up on my tip-toes to kiss him. “I’ve been waiting all day for that.”

“Me too,” he said before kissing me once again.

I beamed up at him, slipping my hand into his, and when I turned around, literally everyone I worked with was staring at us like we were a box full of puppies.

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Show’s over, creeps.”

They groaned and shook their heads, chuckling.

Rose and Patrick stood, and Rose tipped back her glass to drain it before turning to me. “You guys ready?”

“Yup,” I answered, and she flagged everyone toward the door. And with that, we were on our way.

We walked the blocks to the bar in a pack, everyone laughing and chatting, though Tyler and I were in a little bubble, arm in arm, ahead of the rest of them by a bit. He ran me through his day, and I found myself content just at the sound of his voice and the warmth of his body next to mine.

“I’m glad your day was easier,” I said after he’d finished.

“Me too. Hopefully things die down now that Jack is back and Pharaoh is in rehab.”

“I’ve got nothing to report on my end. Just a regular day. I was on the floor all day, so it was pretty easy, just helping people find books, for the most part. I’m glad it’s over though.” My hand was in his, my thumb shifting against my ring on his pinkie. “What’d you do when you got home?”

“Read.” He started to say something else, but kept it to himself.

“That all?” I teased.

He smiled down at me, but he looked guilty. “I guess it’s not like you won’t find out in a minute anyway.”

My brow dropped. “Find out what?”

“I invited Martin.”

Now I was full-on frowning. “You what?”

He squeezed my hand. “He asked me to dinner and I invited him to come with us. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

Frustration prickled up, but I tried to blow it off. “I mean, it’s not. I’m sure Bayleigh and Greg will be paired together anyway, so hopefully he doesn’t have any big ideas. You didn’t put any big ideas into his head, did you?”

He opened his mouth in mock surprise. “Who, me? I’d never.”

I groaned. “Dammit, Tyler.”

He chuckled and pulled me into his side. “I didn’t, I promise. He did ask if she’d be there, though.”

“And you told him no?”

He gave me a look, and I sighed.

“Why you gotta sabotage me like that, Knight?”

“Look, if her and Greg’s love is undeniable, then it’s no sweat, right?”

My eyes narrowed. “Exactly. I just don’t want your buddy to get hurt, that’s all.”

Tyler’s smile fell a little. “I don’t want him to either.  Cam, you’ve got to leave them alone. Let them make their own decisions.”

“Even if they don’t know what’s best for them?” I argued.

His brow dropped. “Who’s to say you know better than they do? It’s their life.”

I huffed. “It’s always easier to see things clearly from the outside.”

“So you’re telling me that you know so much, you’re so right, that they couldn’t possibly know what they want for themselves? That your opinion matters more than their own?”

Disappointment waved off of him, and he let my hand go. Icky feelings rolled through me before I realized we’d reached the door to the bar. He pulled it open for me, jaw set as he waited for me to pass.

“What?” I asked, feeling ass-y as I walked by.

“What you’re doing isn’t right or fair, Cam.”

“I’m just trying to help.” The words held an edge of desperation.

“But not everyone needs your help,” he said firmly. “None of them asked for it.”

The hostess greeted us, bringing the conversation to a close for the moment, though I felt ashamed, and defensive about feeling ashamed. One hand crossed my body to circle my other wrist, turning his bracelet around and around as I tried to sort through my thoughts. Maybe he was right. Maybe I had it all wrong from the start. The uncomfortable, unfamiliar, most hated pang of disgrace shot through me.

So I took a deep breath and followed the Tyler through the bar — past the restaurant in front, the giant bar in the middle, and to the lanes all along one wall. Four lanes had been reserved for us, and I found resolve. I would give it tonight and then let it go for good.

I grabbed Greg’s arm, then Bayleigh’s, and I followed Tyler with my eyes on the prize and “Jukebox Hero” playing in my head.

Martin flanked us out of nowhere, in a bow tie again and button-down with a hoodie over top, and he looked adorable, which pissed me off even more. Bayleigh stood up a little straighter when she saw him, pushing her hair over her shoulder as a hint of color touched her cheeks. He and Tyler greeted each other, and I smiled at him in passing as I dragged the two lovebirds over to the lane where Patrick leaned over the console. His tattooed arms were propped on the surface as he and Rose tried to figure out how to set it up.

Instead of plastic seats, there were leather benches and small tables for drinks, and Bayleigh and I sat down. Greg took a quick look around, looking a little uncomfortable when his eyes passed over Patrick. When Tyler and Martin walked up, Greg flashed a smile and hitched a thumb over his shoulder.

“I’m going to head over to Harrison and Jett so we’re evened out.”

I don’t think I succeeded in keeping my disappointment off my face. Of course he wouldn’t want to bowl with Patrick and Rose — Patrick was probably the only reason Greg and Rose didn’t work out.

Bayleigh waved, looking disappointed too, and Patrick gave him an apologetic nod.

“Guess it’s just us, then,” Tyler said with a smile I might venture to call thrilled, that traitor. “Come on, let’s go get shoes.”

I stood and followed him again to the shoe window, where a guy — who was probably twenty-five and had the most epic ironic mullet I’d ever seen — gave us our shoes, passing over Tyler’s canoes and my matchboxes. I tried not to listen to Bayleigh and Martin talking behind us, because every word and every laugh soured my mood even more.

By the time we were back, Patrick had figured out the console, and I stood on a bench in the middle to get everyone’s attention.

“All right, guys. Choose your names wisely! I’m giving you all themes, and the player with the most creative name gets a free drink on Rose.”

Everyone cheered, and Rose made a face, which wasn’t unexpected, since I hadn’t told her. I smiled sweetly at her, and she made a throat-cut motion with her hand.

“Lane 5 — you’re romance hero tropes. Lane 6 — make up your own superheroes.” They cheered. “Lane 7 — you’re the villains.” They booed. “And Lane 8 — make up your own book titles.” Everyone laughed, and I smiled down at them. “Have fun, everybody!”

I hopped off the bench and made my way back over to our group. Tyler, Patrick, and Rose were chatting with beers in their hands, Rose tucked under Patrick’s arm. Bayleigh and Martin were off searching the racks of balls. And I was doing my best not to be salty.

I did my best to smile, wishing Greg hadn’t gone all the way to the other end of the group, literally as far away as he could get. I didn’t blame him, even though I knew he didn’t really have hard feelings about Patrick and Rose. It’s not even like they’d really dated-dated, just hung out a couple of times and kissed a little, but I think it was just weird for all of them to hang out together like this, Bayleigh or not.

I made my way over to her, stepping shamelessly between her and Martin. “Let’s grab a twelve, a ten, and a couple of nines for the girls.”

“I use a nine,” Martin said, pushing his glasses up his nose.

I chuckled. “I bet you do, buddy.” The words left my mouth a little sharper than I’d intended, and I took a breath.

Bayleigh laughed nervously and took one of the nines to the group. Martin and I followed.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry to crash your party like this. Tyler invited me, but I didn’t realize it was just a work thing, or whatever.”

I shrugged, keeping my eyes ahead of me. “It’s cool.”

He watched me. “Are you sure? I just kind of feel like … I don’t know. Like I intruded, or something.”

I smiled, though it was tight. “It’s cool, really. Any friend of Tyler’s, you know?”

I walked up to the ball return and set the balls down, turning to Tyler, trying not to feel guilty about the look on Martin’s face that said he didn’t believe me.

Rose waved me over to the console. “Come on, put your name in.”

We were the romance hero trope team, and so far our names were:

Billionaire Bastard

Alpha Hammerhead

Manwhore Ladykiller

Professor Broodydick

Rocker Cock

I laughed. “Dammit, these are good.”

“Yeah, well, drinks on me are on the line, so …” Rose said with a shrug and took a sip of her whiskey.

“Hmm,” I thought, and then I lit up as I typed Slutty Stepbrother. “Boom.”

Rose laughed, and I curtsied before making my way back to Tyler, who stood alone near the entrance to our lane.

I looked up at him, still a little hurt at his disappointment, but I didn’t want to talk about it. So I didn’t, just slipped my arms around his waist. He rested his arm on my shoulder and squeezed, and I knew from that simple gesture alone that he wasn’t mad, disagreement or not. My gaze found Bayleigh again, who leaned into Martin, smiling, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that the whole night was going to be a disaster. All the work I’d put into Bayleigh and Greg, weeks of plotting, all to be undone by a skinny accountant in a bow tie.

It was like the universe was mocking me.

“What name did you pick?” I asked Tyler, breaking the silence.

“Manwhore Ladykiller.”

I snickered. “I should have guessed. That one’s my favorite.”

“Slutty Stepbrother? Is that really a thing in romance?”

“You have no idea,” I said with a smile.

He reached for the drink ledge and grabbed the neck of a bottle there. “I got you a beer.”

I took it gratefully. “Thanks.”

“You okay?”

I nodded and took a sip, watching Bayleigh line herself up, trying not to notice that Martin watched her too, looking like he’d found the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. She took her steps, swinging the ball back and letting it go — it rolled down the lane at a solid speed and killed six pins. She turned around and jumped up and down, giggling straight at Martin.

I sighed.

“You sure?” he asked.

I took a deep breath and looked up at him, smiling. “I’m sure. What will be, will be, right?”

He bent to kiss my hair. “That’s right. Now, you’re up, Slutty Stepbrother.”

I chuckled. “Prepare to taste my pain, Ladykiller.” I set down my beer and headed over to the ball return, picking up a nine-pound ball that looked like a galaxy — it was a deep blue, swirled with sparkles like stars.

Bayleigh walked past and hip-bumped me with a wink. I smiled at her. I mean, she looked like she was having a great time, and that was what it was all about, right? I glanced across the lanes to find Greg, who didn’t seem to be aware of us at all.

I tried not to look sullen about it.

Rose cheered from the chair at the console. “Come on, Cam! Show us how to handle the balls!”

I laughed and lined up. “Girl, you have no idea.” My smile fell as my focus lasered in on the center pin, and I counted my steps in my head, hand swinging back and forward, releasing the ball as my right leg swept behind my left.

It was a strike.

I turned around and strut-danced off the platform, dusting my shoulder and doing a spin in time to the Michael Jackson song playing as everyone cheered. Rose jumped out of her seat with her hands in the air.

“Get the fuck out!” she cried.

“I told you,” I said with a shrug.

Tyler was still laughing by the time I reached him. “Wow. Full of surprises, aren’t you?”

I smiled and picked up my beer, drinking it, playing at coy.

“Nobody ever sees you coming, do they?”

“Did you?”

He laughed again, and the sound made my heart flutter as he bent down to kiss me again. And that was when I decided I really would be fine with the night, no matter what happened.

I was one hundred percent not fine with what happened that night.

It started off innocently enough with Bayleigh and Martin, just the two of them sitting next to each other and talking between their turns. Tyler, I learned, is a horrible bowler, and the only way that his competitive self could deal with it was by making the whole thing a joke. If you were wondering whether or not it’s hilarious and ridiculous to watch a six-foot-six athletic hunk of man granny-shoot a twelve pound bowling ball, the answer is yes.

I also spent a little time with Bayleigh and Rose, ogling Patrick while he bowled. He maybe had a perfect ass, and he was covered in tattoos, neck to heel. He also had a perfect jaw, one that was set in concentration as he bowled what ended up to be a decent game. I couldn’t even manage to be unimpressed when he rolled a gutter ball while the three of us girls sighing like a swooning peanut gallery of estrogen-fueled baby makers.

But then Martin put his arm around Bayleigh. And then she leaned into him. And then she asked him to show her how to bowl, which pissed me off, not only because he stood behind her, chest to back, arms around her while he showed her how to move her hands and where to put her weight, but because he was a terrible bowler.

I tried to just think about Tyler. I tried to let Bayleigh do whatever she wanted — she was a grown woman, after all. But the whole thing just felt like a grave mistake, like the world would spin out of orbit if the two of them got together. They looked all wrong together: pretty Bayleigh with her tiny frame and long blond hair next to a messy-haired accountant who probably weighed less than she did. He could barely keep his pants up, for God’s sake.

So I drank. Then I drank a little more, all in the hopes of finding some sweet spot where I didn’t give a shit. But, looking back, I should have known better than that — the second Martin showed up, it was a lost cause. My irritation climbed with every moment, and by the time we’d finished our fourth game, I was nearly at the end of my fuse.

We all sat around the lane, waiting for everyone else to finish so we could tally up the scores and determine our winners. Rose sat on Patrick’s lap at the console, and Tyler and I sat next to Bayleigh and Martin on the benches, listening to Martin talk about Tyler’s horrible bowling over the occasional crash of pins or cheer from a bowler.

“Seriously, remember that time we bowled at Fast Lanes in Lincoln with the football team?” Martin asked.

Tyler started laughing. “Oh, God.”

Martin’s smile was bright. “You were bowling with that hot-pink eight-pound ball. Like, you could have palmed it.”

“I did palm it. I shot-put it down the lane.”

Martin snickered. “And that old lady attendant chased you around the bowling alley trying to catch you to kick you out.”

“I almost broke my ankle jumping over a ball return to get away from her. She was so mad, she was chasing me with the disinfectant spray they use on the shoes.”

“Oh, my God,” I said, laughing.

“And then Kyle got on the microphone and started rapping ‘Ice Ice Baby,’ so she’d chase him instead,” Martin said.

“Word to your motha’” they said in unison.

Tyler shook his head. “She didn’t know which way to run. We got banned for life after that.”

Martin laughed so hard he snorted. “Dude, I almost forgot when she went back to the mic, yelling for Earl to come back from his smoke break and help her catch the dumbshit kids wrecking the alley.”

The laughter finally died down, and Bayleigh sighed, cheeks flushed. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and when she lowered her hand, it rested on Martin’s thigh. He smiled over at her, scooting a little closer.

At that point, I honestly couldn’t see anything clearly. Everything was red. His arm was around her, and they looked happy, which should have made me happy, but I found no joy. I thought about her and Greg at the bar, thought about what a good guy he was and how he deserved someone as sweet as Bayleigh. They’d be good for each other. I knew they would be, but here she was with Martin, and poor Greg was … I looked around to find him — he stood near the guys and a couple of girls, including Ruby. And he looked … well, he looked fine, but that pissed me off even more.

Tyler had invited Martin, and Martin had interfered with the grand plan. The plan that would eventually confirm the fact that I had been right about Bayleigh and Greg all along. But Bayleigh was the Titanic, and Martin was the iceberg. I scrambled for a way to course correct, but I saw no path.

So I decided to make one.

I stood and reached for Bayleigh’s hand, and everyone looked at me. But there was no time for subtlety. “Hey, come walk with me.”

Confusion passed across her face. “Where? What’s up?”

I tried to smile, but was sure it was all teeth. “Just wanted to walk around. Maybe get a drink.”

“Oh, well, mine’s full.”

Everyone was silently watching me, though Tyler’s thoughts screamed at me to sit back down and let it go. I ignored him.

“Come on, I just don’t want to go alone. Don’t make me beg.” The words were sharper than I meant, and Martin’s brow dropped as Bayleigh shifted closer to him.

“I don’t think she wants to go,” Martin said possessively.

“Well,” I snapped, “I don’t think you know her well enough to speak for her, do you?”

His eyes narrowed, though I saw the hurt in them. “Maybe not, but I think you maybe know her well enough to know not to speak to her like that.”

I looked around at all of their faces, which were full of shock. “Jesus, I just wanted someone to get a drink with me. I don’t even know you, Martin, but you’ve sure settled in, haven’t you?”

“Cam,” Tyler said in warning, moving to reach for my hand, but I shook him off.

“Forget it,” I muttered, fuming as I grabbed my bag and bowling shoes. I blew toward the door feeling stupid and shitty and wrong, nearly tossing my shoes in the window at the poor attendant before leaving.

I burst through the door like a raging storm, heart pounding, thoughts flying. The night was cool and crisp, and the fresh air hit my lungs — I hadn’t realized how hot it had been inside. But it did little to clear my cloudy mind. I’d barely made it to the corner before I heard my name, an angry syllable and made me pick up the pace.

It was Tyler, I knew, but I kept going, not wanting to talk to him, not wanting to see him disappointed and angry. Not wanting to admit I’d been wrong.

So I walked as fast as I could as tears pricked the corners of my eyes. Unfortunately for me, Tyler’s legs were twice as long as mine, and he caught up to me easily, calling my name the whole way.

“Cam, stop,” he demanded.

I realized there was no avoiding him, so I whirled around to face him, ready to unload, unleash the hurricane. What I didn’t realize was that he was literally right behind me, and I slammed into his chest with enough force to knock me backward and on my ass in a windmill of arms and legs, some mine, some his as he tried to catch me.

I’d been laid out flat, and I looked up the side of the building and a streetlamp, feeling the cool concrete underneath me, too full of feelings to even get up. I just laid there, breathing painfully, nose burning, my anger abated, leaving only humiliation and remorse. Tyler was on his hands and knees, having fallen in the kerfuffle. He laughed, his anger gone.

“You okay?” he asked.

I looked over at him with my chin locked and shrugged as a tear flipped out of the corner of my eye.

His smile fell, and he sighed as he lay down next to me and reached for my hand.

I took a breath and let it out, not wanting to talk, afraid I’d really start crying in earnest. But I calmed, sorting through my thoughts, thinking only about what I’d done and how wrong I’d been.

“You’re disappointed,” I finally said, quietly.

“I am,” he answered, his words as soft as mine.

“I embarrassed you.”

“You did.”

“I embarrassed myself.”

“Yes.”

I took a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry.”

He squeezed my hand and looked over at me, but I couldn’t meet his eyes, just stared up at the street lamp. “I know. But I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

“No,” I said simply. “I guess not.”

We lay there on the dirty ground, and I absently wondered if germs could get through my military jacket and jeans, or if there was such a thing as getting diphtheria through contact with New York pavement. His thumb shifted against my wrist, moving his bracelet out of the way.

“I’m an asshole.”

“Not usually.” I could hear him smiling, but I still couldn’t look at him as I sorted through my feelings, wanting to explain.

“I just … it just made me so mad. I mean, he just rolled up in there on his nerd-steed and got the girl without even trying, and here I was spending all this time trying to hook her up with Greg, and for what?”

“That’s really the question, isn’t it? Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because …” I struggled to find an answer, but I didn’t have one, not a real one. “Because it just did. I love them both, and I thought they could love each other, if they were given the chance. I wanted them to be happy.”

“Then why does it matter how they get there or who they’re with?”

“It doesn’t. Not really.” I took a breath and said quietly, “I don’t like being wrong.”

He chuckled. “No kidding?”

I squeezed his hand, unable to laugh. “And if I’m wrong about them, maybe I’m wrong about other things. Like, maybe I’m wrong about everything. About you and I, about being together. I don’t want to be wrong about that, Tyler.”

“There is no right or wrong, remember? Not when it comes to this.”

Tears spilled out of my eyes, and fog crept up on the edges of my glasses. “God,” I said with a small sob. “I was just horrible to your friend.”

“Yeah.” The word was sad, laden with disappointment, the edge dull but present nonetheless. “All he ever did was show up, Cam. That’s it. You showed him your ugliest side tonight, made him feel unwelcome and unwanted when your approval meant everything. Now he’s hurt, Bayleigh’s hurt, and no one even knew what to say. The whole thing was badly done, Cam. Really badly done.”

I sniffled, trying not to sob audibly as more tears fell.

“So, yes. I’m disappointed and embarrassed. You know, he’s one of the most genuine people I know, besides you. I thought you’d appreciate that about him, not insult him.”

“I’m so sorry. I hate that I did this. I hate that you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry, Cam. I mean, five minutes ago I was. But I know you. I know you’re sorry, and I know you’re probably punishing yourself worse than I could. Even when you’re wrong, you see it, acknowledge it.”

I sighed.

“Yeah, and don’t think I missed you being wrong again.”

A little laugh found its way out of me.

“Anyway, there’s a little bit of a silver lining.”

“Oh?”

“Nothing is beyond repair. You can make it right again.”

I thought about going back to apologize and filled with dread. “I don’t want to go back there. I can’t face them tonight.”

He squeezed my hand again. “Okay. Can I take you home?”

I turned my head so I could finally meet his eyes, eyes that were sad and forgiving. “Okay,” I said quietly.

Tyler smiled and slipped his hand into my hair, cupping the back of my head as he leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “Come on, then.”

So I picked myself up off the ground and tucked into his side, walking to the subway station in silence, counting my mistakes, one by one.

KEEP WALKING

Tyler

CAM TEXTED ROSE TO LET them know we wouldn’t be back, but she didn’t speak the whole way home, and neither did I — I was content to leave her with her thoughts, content to hug her in the silence, hold her hand, just breathe with her.

When she’d walked out of the bar, I’ll admit — I was livid. It took me a second to put on my shoes and chase her down, rolling through the tirade I planned to lay on her with every second that passed. But when I caught up to her and she ran into me, when she hit the ground and just lay there, eyes shining, brows furrowed, staring up at the sky, I knew she didn’t need to hear it from me. She already knew.

Sitting on the train, she was subdued, still and quiet, maybe more than I’d ever seen her, aside from when she was reading or sleeping. My arm was around her, and she leaned into my side, staring through our reflection in the window across from us.

I thought maybe we’d talk more when we got home, but I wasn’t willing to break the silence, happy to wait for her. So we moved through the apartment silently, readying for sleep. When our teeth were brushed, she took my hand, leading me into her bedroom where we climbed into bed. And when the light was off, she buried herself in my chest and breathed, a deep breath in, a long sigh out. And I held her, knowing it was all she needed from me.

“I’m going to make this right,” she finally said.

“I know you will,” I answered, and she sighed again, this time with the sound of letting go.

But I was awake long after her breath had slowed and she drifted away to sleep.

Bayleigh, Greg, Martin … that was the least of my concerns — I hadn’t missed the admission as we lay on the sidewalk. She was still afraid of us, of me. She worried she was wrong about us, and my frustration mounted, not understanding how she couldn’t know the thing that was most obvious to me. But even past that, I worried over what would happen to us if she imploded, blew us up from the inside.

The cold realization slipped over me that there was nothing I could do except what I was already doing. Be there, show up. She had to do the rest.

I sighed, pulling her a little closer, hoping with all my heart that she’d find a way to believe.

Cam

I woke the next morning resolute, plan in place, smile on my face. Tyler slept soundly, and my heart ached at the sight of him, the patient man who had his work cut out for him with me. I tried not to feel guilty, but it was no use. I was an asshole, and all I could do was try to atone.

Starting with muffins.

Tyler woke as I was pulling the second batch of lemon blueberry muffins out of the oven, and I smiled at him, feeling sheepish. But his smile was forgiving and he nodded sleepily at my work.

“You’ve been busy.”

I took off my oven mitt and poured him a cup of coffee. He stepped behind me as I was pouring, slipping his arms around me as he pressed a kiss into my hair.

“Grand apology: phase one. Coffee and muffins.”

“Smells good.”

“Tastes better.” I turned in his arms and stretched onto my tip-toes to kiss him. “Thank you. For understanding. For sticking with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Cam.”

I smiled, though it was tinged with remorse even still. “Here. Have a muffin.” I reached for the pan and grabbed a steaming pastry for him.

He took it, wetting his lips as he peeled the paper and took a bite. He moaned. “God, it’s so good.”

It was practically pornographic, watching him eat something I made with that much pleasure. My lips pulled into what felt like a dirty smirk, and I turned to the pan, pulling out the muffins to place them on the cooling racks.

“How’s your day?” I asked as he sat at the table with his coffee and breakfast.

“Shouldn’t be too rough. You?”

“Same. I think I’ve got to go shopping after work for the party tomorrow night unless there’s a chance for me to wear jeans.”

He chuckled. “I mean, you could.”

I smiled, lining my little lemony morsels up like soldiers.

“If you’re going to go shopping, I guess I’ll hang with Kyle. He’s been hounding me to go out with him for what feels like forever.”

“Think you’ll be late?” I asked, hoping the answer was no.

“I’m going to try to just do happy hour and see if that’ll appease him. The last thing I want to do is club tonight, not with work tomorrow and the event tomorrow night.”

“Oh, grown up life.” I wiped my hands on a kitchen towel and turned, leaning on the counter to face him.

He laughed. “I know. Going without sleep is my number one contributor to bad days. But Kyle doesn’t get it. I think he’s worse now than he was in college.”

“So he’s regressing? This doesn’t surprise me at all.”

He nodded, his smile slipping. “Some days I feel like everyone I knew before moved in different directions away from me, and I’m stuck where I was.”

The admission hit me in the heart, and I pushed off the counter, moving for him. With him sitting down, I was only a little bit taller than he was, and he shifted, his arm around the backs of my thighs as I leaned into him. I cupped his jaw.

“You didn’t stay where you were. You grew. They’re the ones who stayed the same. Don’t ever compare yourself to Kyle. He’s not half the man you are.”

Our faces were angled to each other, and he touched my cheek. “Thank you.”

I leaned in to kiss him, my lips closing over his bottom lip as his closed over my top. I pulled away and smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“So, are you taking all of those to work, or can I stash some?”

“Take as many as you want. Just be sure to save a couple for Mrs. Frank.” I pecked his lips before stepping away.

“Man, she gets all the good stuff.”

I laughed and packed up the apology muffins, and we got ready for work. I felt a little healed from the self-inflicted wounds, optimistic about the day. I decided to leave a early so I could walk to work, parting ways with Tyler in the doorway with a kiss that made me wish I could stay home instead.

But there was work to be done.

I turned on my music and breathed deep, enjoying the sights of the city, the sky deep blue, the leaves rusty and tumbling to the ground. It was nature and man, colliding in a clash of color and concrete and steel. And I thought over the mess and my hopes to set things to rights, feeling a little better, a little lighter with every step.

When I reached Wasted Words, I unlocked the door, heading through the empty store and to the office where I found Rose already working. She looked up, and her smile held a hint of sadness.

“Hey, Cam.”

“Hey,” I echoed apologetically as I set the muffins down her desk. “I made ‘I’m sorry’ muffins.”

Rose leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Well, it’s a start. I don’t know what got into you.”

I took off my bag, setting it next to my chair before sitting on top of my desk. “I don’t really either. I was stubborn and unkind, and for no real reason other than that I didn’t want to be wrong. I didn’t want my matchmaking laws to be wrong.” I sighed. “But I was.”

“Yeah, you were. Bayleigh and Tyler were so embarrassed. I mean … I dunno. I get you were trying to hook up Bayleigh and Greg, but I don’t get why you’d go so far as to call Martin out like you did.”

I shook my head, eyes down as I fiddled with the Tupperware. “I maybe have some control issues I’m working on.”

She snickered. “You think?”

I tried to smile. “It’s just … I mean, I’m with Tyler and I just feel like I have no control over anything — how I feel, how he feels, what happens with us next.”

“But that’s every relationship, Cam,” she pressed.

“Maybe, but it’s never affected before now. Not like this.”

She nodded, her eyes full of understanding.

“And I think maybe Bayleigh and Greg were something I could control, even though I couldn’t really control that either.”

“Right, because they’re human beings with their own ideas and feelings. Maybe you should take up knitting?”

I snorted. “I tried, but I can’t multitask knitting with anything else, and I kept losing track of my stitches. My first scarf looked more like a triangle. I guess I could have called it a shawl instead.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, I’m so not crafty. My first and only craft as an adult ended with me supergluing my fingers together.”

I sighed. “What happened last night after I left?”

She reached for the muffins, popping the top off and grabbing one. “Bayleigh apologized about a hundred times to poor Martin — pretty sure she spent the rest of the night trying not to cry. But he seemed more concerned with how she was than how you acted. I think they went home together.”

I felt both happy for them and the sting of pain from being wrong. Being wrong isn’t the end of the world. Except it kind of was.

I pushed the feelings away. “I hope they’ll forgive me.”

She sighed and peeled the paper off the muffin. “Me too. Only one way to find out. You gonna talk to her today?”

I nodded. “As soon as she gets in at ten.”

“Good. I’m sure everything will be fine, Cam.” She took a big bite and closed her eyes, humming.

I smiled and sighed, hoping she was right.

Rose moved the muffin into one hand, licking her free thumb. “Is everything okay with Tyler?”

“Yeah. He was so disappointed. I think that almost hurt more than if he’d yelled at me.”

She nodded and angled for a bite. “I know that feeling.”

“But we’re okay. I’m still being a little crazy, but I’m working on it. We’re supposed to go to this cocktail charity thing tomorrow night, and I’m starting to wig out about that.”

“Why?”

“Uh, because I’ve worn heels a grand total of twice in my life, and I fell both times.”

She laughed. “Oh, God.”

“I have nothing to wear … I mean, I don’t even own any dresses.”

“Well, then let’s go shopping tonight.”

I waved her off. “I don’t want to bother you with that.”

She shrugged. “It’s no bother. We should see if Lily can come too. She’s the best at cocktaily-type things.”

“Really? Because I can use all the help I can get.”

“Really. We’ve got your back.”

Relief washed over me. “Teach me, oh wise one.”

But Rose snorted, rolling her eyes. “It’s like the blind leading the blind.”

The phone rang, and she picked it up.

“Wasted Words, this is Rose.” She paused, her eyes flitting to me. “Hai,” she said, and I reached for the phone, which she passed over gratefully.

“Emerson to moushimasu,” I answered in Japanese, and thus began my work day.

The next few hours were spent on the phone with a small distributor in Kyoto, arguing about a shipment that was supposed to have already made it to us. Not that they weren’t being accommodating, but frankly, most discussions in Japanese sounded like arguing, regardless of context.

I left the office at a quarter after ten bearing muffins, finding Bayleigh behind the bar, setting up for the day. She glanced at me as she sliced limes.

“Hey,” she said as I approached.

I set the muffins next to her and leaned on the ice well. “Hey. I owe you an apology for last night.”

“Yeah,” was all she said, her knife clicking on the plastic cutting board, muffins not even glanced at.

My chest ached. “I’m sorry I interfered with you and Martin. I’m sorry for making a scene and for embarrassing you in front of everyone. I knew you liked Martin, but I was so stuck on you and Greg, I couldn’t let it go. I wanted that for you, but I didn’t stop to think about what you wanted.”

She sighed and set down the knife, turning to face me, everything about her accusatory. “No, you didn’t. Cam, I seriously wanted to die after you walked out. I just couldn’t believe you would be so rude to Martin, especially knowing I liked him. I mean, you had to be able to tell, couldn’t you?”

I nodded solemnly. “I knew how you felt, but I thought I knew better. I was wrong.”

“Yeah, you were.” Her small face bent in hurt. “I mean, what’s better than a smart, sweet guy with a great job and a sense of humor? One who likes me? After all of this, I’m still not convinced Greg even was even interested in me like that. He walked me home three times and never once made a move, but you insisted he was into me, so I kept hanging on to the idea that maybe it would happen.”

I stood very still, feeling worse with every word. “I know. You’re right.”

She shook her head and sighed again, turning back to the fruit on the board. “I’m just thankful no permanent damage was done, other than Martin thinking you’re kind of a shitty human.”

“Oh, that’s all?” I joked.

She smirked at me, the tension fading slowly out of her. “Well, it’s true, even if your intentions were good. We all have our moments, Cam.”

“Does that mean you forgive me?”

She sighed. “Yes, I forgive you. And I know you won’t approve, but I went home with Martin last night. He was just so sweet, making sure I was okay — he even apologized for being rude to you. But he stood up for me. As far as I was concerned, you were the only one who needed to apologize.”

I smiled at her. “Well, you’re wrong about one thing.”

“Oh?” she asked with a brow raised in challenge.

“I do approve. You and Martin are a match well made, much better than I could do myself, and you have my full and happy blessing. Not that you need it.”

She smiled, all anger gone, her cheeks pink. “Thanks, Cam.” She embraced me, and I hugged her back, grateful for her forgiveness.

I pulled away, smiling back. “Will you pass it on to Martin? I’m not sure if he’ll ever want to see me again.”

Bayleigh picked up her knife again. “He’ll actually be in here in a bit. He’s swinging by on his lunch break.”

“Great. I’ll save some apology muffins for him.”

She snickered.

“So how did it go last night at his place?”

She sighed, her eyes all starry. “He’s so great, Cam. I don’t know how you couldn’t see it. We were up most of the night talking.”

“Oh, is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

She giggled. “No, I mean, we did that too, but he was an absolute gentleman. Lucky for him, I’m not much of a lady.”

I laughed.

“But I just …” She sighed again. “I just had the best time.”

“So my assholery was ultimately helpful?”

She snorted. “Don’t go getting ideas. We all could have done without the mess. I would have gone home with him whether you’d been an asshole or not.” She perked up. “Oh, and I wanted to tell you — he helped me come up with a nickname too.”

I perked up, curious. “What is it?”

“Bebe. My middle name starts with a B too, so it works. What do you think?”

“It’s just right. That way if people spell it with two Bs, it’s still your initials.”

“I know! Martin is super smart. And he agreed I shouldn’t use my middle name.

I frowned. “Hang on, you already told Martin your secret middle name?”

But she laughed. “Next time you rock out my vagina, I’ll tell you too.”

I helped her finish setting up the bar and made my way back to Rose, relieved that all was well. And when Martin came by — with donuts for Bayleigh, and I swear she could have proposed to him on the spot — I apologized to him too, muffins in hand. He accepted, seeming relieved to have me on board at last, and with that, I was entirely forgiven. And as for Greg, who seemed to be blissfully unaware of all of it, I decided to look for another match for him, one better suited to him, without my own feelings clouding my judgment.

The day flew by after that, I’m sure in part because of the relief I felt. Tyler messaged me a few times throughout the day, once with a photo of him behind a mountain of papers with an overwhelmed, wide-eyed look on his face. He was also sure to let me know about when he thought he’d be home, so I wouldn’t worry.

I wondered again why in the world such a man would put up with the likes of me.

By the time the work day was done, I was thoroughly terrified of the impending shopping excursion, though thankful for Rose, who wisely insisted that we stop by the bar for whiskey shots on our way out. I wished I had a hip flask, though I’d probably only end up getting wasted and buying a dress with feathers on it or something. So with a deep sigh and a reassuring look from Rose, we were on our way into a nightmare of lace and chiffon.

Tyler

I pulled open the door to the bar to the sound of loungy electronic music, scanning the crowd, looking for Kyle. I felt a little underdressed — everyone already seemed ready for the night life, even though dusk had barely fallen. I found him leaning against the bar in a suit next to a pretty girl and her friend in sparkly dresses, one blonde, one brunette. They were all smiles, and by the way the girls were looking at him — starry-eyed and leaning toward him — I was certain he’d told them who he was.

He jerked his chin at me and pushed off the bar, extending a hand. I clasped it, and he pulled me into a hug.

“‘Sup, man?” he asked, smiling in a way that was infectious.

“Not much,” I answered, softened by the glimpse of the old Kyle.

He turned back to the girls. “I’d like you to meet my buddy Tyler.”

They lit up, and the blonde asked, “Oh, do you play for the Giants too?”

I smiled politely and opened my mouth to answer, but Kyle beat me to it.

“We used to play together at Nebraska. Tyler would have gone pro if hadn’t gotten hurt, though — no doubt. He was the absolute best.”

I sighed and tried to keep smiling as their faces turned to pity.

“Oh, my God. That’s so sad,” the brunette said.

I shrugged. “It wasn’t the end of the world.”

Kyle shook his head. “I don’t know, man.” He turned to the girls again. “When he was injured, I was there every step of the way. He lost everything that day.”

I kept still, trying to mask any discomfort I felt — which was a lot. “That was just one dream. I have plenty more where that came from.”

He laughed. “It’s true. I mean, it’s not like going pro was the only thing in the world. Just the best thing.”

I shifted, hating to hear the honesty of what he really thought about me. That I was second-rate. Not like I hadn’t known, but for him to say it aloud, even veiled, in front of strangers, was tiresome and aggravating.

“Come on. Let me get you a beer,” he said jovially.

“Please.” The word was dry.

The girls smiled at me, not seeming to notice. The blonde picked up her martini. “So, you’re an agent? Like in Jerry McGuire?”

I chuckled. “Yeah, sort of.”

“Do you represent anyone we’ve heard of?”

“Probably, we represent a lot of NFL players.

Kyle interjected. “He represents Pharaoh Carson.”

“My boss does, not me,” I added.

The blonde’s eyes went soft, and she touched her necklace. “Oh, I feel so bad, about him being an alcoholic and all. I hope rehab really works for him, you know?”

The brunette nodded knowingly. “We all have our vices.”

Kyle turned to me with my beer, and I took it, gratefully.

“Want to go get a table?” I asked, taking a long pull of it.

He looked downtrodden. “We were just getting to know the girls here.”

“Yeah, but I have a girlfriend.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Who, Cam?”

I gave him a look.

His face fell. “Oh. You’re serious.”

I turned to the girls. “It’s nice to meet you two. Have a good night.”

They watched after us sadly as we walked away, saying “Bye,” in unison.

We headed back to a table against the wall and took seats, and I tried to ignore Kyle’s watchful eyes.

I tried changing the subject, not wanting to talk to Kyle about Cam. “Did you hear from the twins?”

He made a face. “Man, I was not interested after all that. I mean, they were so embarrassing.”

“You’re not even the one who got pissed on.”

“Yeah, fuck that.” He took a drink. “I mean, a shot with twins was worth the tickets, but …” He shuddered.

I shook my head. “What a hero.”

“That’s exactly what Cam said.” He watched me for a beat. “So what’s up with you two?”

“I’m seeing her,” was all I was willing to offer.

He waited expectantly.

My brow dropped, anger flashing through me at the thought of explaining it in any detail. He wouldn’t understand. My tolerance for Kyle had become nonexistent, and in that moment, I saw it clearly for the first time. “What do you want me to say, man? I’m dating Cam. I’m speaking English, right?”

“It’s just weird. You and … Cam?”

I couldn’t help but notice his lip curled. “What’s so weird about it?”

He shrugged a big shoulder. “I dunno, dude. It’s just that she’s not your type. I mean, you used to live with a model.”

“A model who dumped me for being ‘too nice.’ What the fuck does that even mean?”

“It means she wants some guy to treat her like shit. I think chicks call it alpha or something. Anyway, how do you think I get so much play?”

“Well, that’s bullshit,” I shot, disgusted at the thought. “I don’t think I should have to apologize for having respect for someone I care about. And the real story is that she thought I was someone I’m not.”

“I dunno, maybe she just wanted you to get a little rough in the bedroom.” He made spanking motions with his hand.

I glared. “Yeah, that wasn’t the problem.”

“Well, then what was it?”

“She didn’t want me. She wanted money or a title or … I don’t know. I was just sort of blinded by her, I guess. She’s a damn good actress — she had me convinced she was in love with me for over a year.”

“Maybe she was just bored.”

“Who knows. Why am I explaining myself to you?”

He shook his head, the light gleaming off his blond hair. “Look, man. You can get chicks like Jessica and Gretchen with nothing but the snap of your fingers.” He snapped to demonstrate, as if a girl would appear. “Like when you bailed on going out with me Saturday to go on a date with Adrienne Fucking Christie. You could have had her, but you’re with … Cam.”

My brow dropped, jaw clenching. “Watch it, Kyle. I chose Cam over Adrienne — or anyone else for that matter — for a reason.”

“I miss you, man. We used to be the same, you and me. But now …” He looked me over sadly. “I don’t even think I know you anymore,” he said, in part to himself, I think. “I just don’t get it. Why her?

I almost got up and left, not really interested in defending myself to a guy I didn’t even know if I could call a friend anymore. But I stayed put if for no other reason than to defend her.

“Why did I pick Cam? I picked her because she’s smart. She’s beautiful and she’s funny. She doesn’t put up a front — what you see is exactly what you get with her. Don’t you know how much I want that? After everything …” I swallowed hard. “Cam is everything I’m looking for in a woman, and she makes me happy. Is that reason enough for you?”

His face was frozen. “Listen, I—”

“No, you listen. I don’t even know why I hang out with you anymore, not when you constantly make fun of my life, my friends. Like you have all your shit figured out. Well, I’m sorry I’m not more like you.” I pushed away from the table, jaw tense. “No, you know what? That’s a lie. I wouldn’t want to be like you even if I could because you don’t give a shit about anybody but yourself.” I stood and gave him one last look. “It’s lonely at the top, right? But maybe, just maybe, if you didn’t treat the rest of the world like you do, you wouldn’t be all alone.”

And with that, I turned and walked away, leaving him sitting stunned on the barstool, ready to be anywhere but where I was.

JUST BECAUSE

Cam

I WRINKLED MY NOSE AT my reflection in the dressing room mirror of the high-end department store. “Do these mirrors add ten pounds or make you three inches shorter?”

Lily, Rose’s best friend, laughed from the other side of the door. “Both. Let’s see it.”

I opened the door with a look on my face that said I wasn’t amused.

“Hmm.” Rose folded an arm, touching her red lips with her other hand. “I hate that. It’s the color of creamed salmon.”

I motioned to the front of it. “What’s with this gathered twisty thing?”

Lily huffed, standing tall behind me, her blond hair long. “That gathered twisty thing is actually super flattering.” She was dressed impeccably, which compelled me to listen to her advice, but I looked back in the mirror and frowned.

Rose rolled her dark eyes. “Old ladies wear dresses like this because it hides stuff.”

“Like hot dogs and lies,” I said. “I do feel pretty old in this. I look like sexy frozen yogurt.”

“I don’t see what’s wrong with that,” Lily said.

“Salmon flavored frozen yogurt,” I added.

“It’s like a cougar dress,” Rose added. “You could really rake in some high school boys with this beauty.”

Lily threw her arms up in the air. “You guys are the worst. Next,” she sang, turning on her heel like the ballerina she was. I swear, she could look graceful scrubbing a toilet.

I sighed and walked back into the dressing room, looking over the mess I’d made. I’d tried on at least fifteen dresses, all of which were wrong for me in one way or another. I reached for a nude chiffon dress with an open, draped back. When I pulled it on, I looked like I was naked, and it was so tight, you could see everything. Like, I’m pretty sure I could see the hamburger I ate for lunch.

I opened the door, even less amused than the time before.

Rose laughed. “You look like those memes where people dress pugs in costumes.”

“I feel that level of shame. Right here.” I motioned to my heart. “And here.” I motioned to my butt.

Lily sighed. “That color just won’t work.”

“I look like I’m just wearing pantyhose over my entire body.”

Rose snorted, and Lily rolled her eyes again. “It’s not that bad.”

I turned around to look in the mirror. “I dunno, it’s pretty freaking bad, dude.”

“Ooooh,” Lily said and stepped in behind me. “The back of this is gorgeous. Look at this, Rose.”

She stepped in and nodded. “Really pretty. But she still looks like a flesh popsicle.”

“Or a meat tube.”

Rose wrinkled her nose and laughed. “Ew.”

“Next,” Lily said with a wave of her hand, and they left me alone with the cocktail dress nightmare I’d found myself in.

Every one of them had been wrong. Too poofy. Too naked. Too long, which happened a lot since I had the frame of a leprechaun. Some of the sleeveless ones were pretty, but with my luck and lack of girl skills, I was likely to lose a boob out of the top. Plus, if I took any selfies, I’d look naked. And if I was putting on mascara and eyeliner, I was taking a goddamn selfie.

It was one of the last dresses to try on, and I tried not to think about what would happen if I didn’t find one. Maybe I’d just back out. I could always claim my period. Or diarrhea. No one questions diarrhea, they just smile and look uncomfortable and tell you they hope you feel well soon before sending you on your way and washing their hands.

I stepped into the black dress with my expectations in the can, fully prepared for another epic failure, but when I slipped my arms in and looked in the mirror, I drew in a breath. It fit me almost perfectly — the neckline was high with cap sleeves, but from the neck to the sweetheart bodice, the fabric was sheer, gathered ever so slightly at the hem at the neck. The waist was fitted, but the skirt flowed away from hips without being too full or poofy.

I felt prettier than I’d maybe ever felt in my life. The dress transformed me, accentuated my small waist, the swing of the skirt hitting me mid-thigh, the angle from my bust down steep enough that I looked curvy.

“Cam? You okay?”

“I think this is it, guys,” I said as I opened the door.

Lily gasped, and Rose’s eyes were wide as they looked me up and down.

I stood there, waiting in the silence with sweaty palms with my eyes darting between them. “What? Is it bad?”

Rose shook her head. “No, Cam. This is very, very good.”

Lily motioned for me to come out to see in the big mirror. “God, look at your waist in this.”

I inspected my reflection. “Will you do me up in the back?”

Rose laughed and stepped behind me. “That’s what she said.” I felt her fingers against my back as she buttoned it up. “This is so pretty, Cam.”

“How the hell am I going to get in and out of it by myself?”

“You’re not,” Rose said. “But lucky for you, you have Tyler to do it for you. I’m sure he won’t mind,” she said with a smirk as she stepped back to look into the mirror. “Yeah, that’s it, all right.”

Buttoned up, it was even prettier. I laid my palm on my stomach, finding it a little hard to believe that the girl in the mirror was me. “This is insane. Why haven’t I ever done this before? I didn’t know I could look like … this.”

Lily laughed. “Just wait until you’ve got heels and makeup on.”

“It’s so dumb. I mean, it’s just an article of clothing, but I feel transformed,” I said in wonder. And then terror washed over me at the thought of fixing my own hair and walking in heels through a banquet hall with Tyler. I swallowed hard. “How am I going to do this? I don’t think I can do this.”

Rose cupped my shoulders. “You can do this. You’re a fantastic ladybeast, and you can do anything.”

Lily smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. We’ll show you how to do your makeup super easy. You don’t need much. Your skin is amazing, your eyes are gigantic, and you have the thickest, longest lashes I’ve ever seen. It’s no wonder you don’t wear makeup. You don’t need it. But it’s nice when you’re dressed up, so you look together.”

“I very seriously doubt that I will ever look together.”

But she chuckled. “Trust me. You will. Now, get dressed and let’s hit the shoe department.”

I sighed. “Thank you for teaching me how to girl.”

“You already know how to girl. This is how you lady,” Rose said with a curtsy, and we laughed.

The rest of the evening was a whirl. First were shoes — black velvet pumps with a platform, which was supposed to help me walk easier, though I still thought I walked funny in them. Then we found a dainty gold bracelet and earrings that were two long slender bars connected by a chain, so one bar hung in front of my earlobe and the other in back. And then was the makeup counter.

I was told to keep it simple. The makeup I had was old enough that I couldn’t even remember when I got it, so I ended up with blush, mascara, liquid eyeliner, and a nude eyeshadow palette — which Lily gave me a quick rundown on and made it seem absolutely simple. The last thing was a red lip crayon called Bloody Valentine, which Rose assured me was her absolute favorite, and her lips always looked amazing, so I took her word on merit alone.

I walked out of the store with a bag full of goodies and a much lighter wallet, with a little bit of hope and a whole lot of plans, taking the girls by the hand in search of whiskey.

Tyler

The subway was packed, and so were my thoughts as I made my way home, still trying to calm down.

My biggest mistake was that I should have walked away from Kyle a long time ago. I should have let him go, even after everything he’d done for me. I could take his bullshit if it were just on me. But he brought Cam into it, and that wasn’t something I could forgive.

If nothing else, I wished I’d waited to hang out with him until after the cocktail party, made some excuse to avoid him. Because I’d see him again in twenty-four hours. If I didn’t see him for a year, I would have been satisfied, however improbable that was, given the nature of our tight-knitindustry.

I only hoped he had the good sense to leave us alone, which was the equivalent of wishing on a star to win the lottery.

Part of me wanted tell Cam what happened, not just to vent and get it off my chest, but so she’d have an idea of what to expect from him tomorrow night. But I knew how hurt she’d be, how much it would feed into her anxiety about us. And that was the last thing I wanted.

By the time I walked through the door, my anger had ebbed to a dull hum in the back of my mind. It nearly dissipated when Cam walked out of her bedroom, smiling and fresh as a daisy.

I set my bag down by the door, and she bounded over and into my arms, laughing.

My heart filled so much, it hurt.

I picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around my waist, hanging on my neck.

“Hey,” she said breathlessly.

“Well, hello.”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

She looked at my lips. “I got a really pretty dress today.”

I raised a brow. “You gonna show me?”

She smiled, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. “Mm-Mmm,” she answered, shaking her head.

I pouted. “Well, that sucks.”

“You’ll see it tomorrow night. I also got heels, so hopefully I don’t break my ankle.”

I laughed and kissed her sweetly. “I’m happy to have you hang on my arm all night.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m gonna need all the help I can get.”

She relaxed her legs, and I set her down, a little sad I hadn’t taken the opportunity to kiss her more.

“How’s Kyle?” she asked as she walked into the kitchen. “I didn’t expect you home so soon.”

I tried not to frown as I followed her, taking a seat at the table. “He’s, you know. Kyle.”

She chuckled. “Did you eat?”

“No, actually.”

“Well, lucky for you, I just made mac and cheese.” She smiled at me over her shoulder as she pulled on oven mitts.

I salivated at the thought. “Your mom’s recipe?”

She wet her lips. “Mmhmm. With maple bacon.”

I groaned, and she laughed before opening the oven. She was already in her pajamas — a tank top and tiny, tight black shorts — and I watched her with appreciation as she bent over to pull the casserole dish out.

She kicked the door closed with her foot and set the dish on a trivet on the table in front of me.

“Voilà,” she said before turning to the cabinets to retrieve bowls, then forks, then napkins.

I leaned on the table to get closer and drew in a breath through my nose. “That smells so good, Cam.”

“Thanks.” She set a bowl in front of me, smiling.

“How’d you ever get to be such a good cook?”

She pushed her glasses up her nose and shrugged, spooning out a portion into my bowl. “It’s not all that hard. You just have to follow the instructions.”

I snorted. “Yeah, that’s not all there is to it.”

“It really is. That and practice.” She sat down next to me and served herself.

I took a bite and moaned. “Well, feel free to practice on me any time you like.”

She laughed, and I noted the difference between Cam tonight and Cam that morning. She was relaxed, cheeks flushed with what seemed to be general happiness, when the last time I’d seen her, she’d been much more subdued.

“How’d it go today? Did you talk to Bayleigh?”

She nodded as she chewed, pulling one knee up. “Yeah, and Rose and Martin, too. It went well, or as well as it could have. Even Martin was gracious about it.”

“He was probably just happy to have your blessing. You did give them your blessing, didn’t you?”

“I did, and gladly.” She sighed. “So, yeah. All’s forgiven, and I’m really happy for Bayleigh and Martin. They’re sweet together. I guess he took her home last night.”

I nodded, smiling. “Well, all right, Martin.”

“And after work, I went shopping with Rose and her friend Lily.”

I squinted, trying to remember. “The tall blonde or the short one?”

“The tall one. Ballerina.”

“Right. How’d it go?”

“It was mostly a nightmare, but there was just that moment when I put on the dress and time stopped or something. I definitely get why people shop when they’re depressed.”

“And you got heels?”

She poked at her food and shook her head. “Yeah. I’m not gonna lie, I’m scared to death. They’re pretty high, but the heel isn’t a stiletto, and there’s a platform. I’m only partially sure what that means, but apparently it’s supposed to help me not fall down. Because not only would falling down be embarrassing, but my dress is short enough that the entire party would see my vag.”

“Okay, you’re definitely hanging onto me then. Nobody gets to see your vag except me.”

She smirked. “How about you? How Kyle was Kyle? Like, drunk twins Kyle or Kyle trying to read scary books that bite?”

“Worse than either.”

She frowned. “Wow. What’d he do?”

I almost admitted it to her without thinking, not used to keeping secrets from her, but I caught myself. “He was trying to be my wingman and mouthed off when I told him I wasn’t interested in browsing.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t read her face.

I took another bite, trying to make light of the whole thing. “I dunno, Cam. I don’t want to hang out with him anymore — I feel like I’ve let the whole thing go on long enough.”

“Well, you don’t have to hang out with him if you don’t want to. It’s the beauty of being a grown up. That and beer.”

“And no bedtime,” I added. “Or school.”

She laughed. “I love school. And learning.”

“Not me,” I said with the shake of my head. “The pressure was too much.”

She snorted. “Says the guy who played ball at Nebraska.”

I shrugged. “That was different, you know? Simpler. I knew what I was doing on the field. Everything else is … complicated.”

“Do you miss it?” she asked quietly.

“Every day,” I answered.

“What do you remember? Like, what do you think about?”

I swallowed, considering the question. “Everything. The smell of the turf, the sweat, the adrenaline. The sound of pads and helmets clashing, the feeling of the football in my hands. The feeling of taking somebody down by sheer will and strength. It was my life for so long. Part of me wonders if I’ll ever look back on that time of my life without longing.”

“Well,” she said gently, “I think it’s good to remember. It’s part of who you are. You lived those moments, and as long as you remember, then it’s not lost.”

I leaned over, heart aching as I pressed my lips to hers in thanks and adoration.

When we finished eating a little while later, I sat back in my chair, contemplating seconds. But that was another thing I missed — the calories burned playing ball. It didn’t take long to learn that I couldn’t eat hamburgers and fried chicken every night for dinner when I wasn’t burning two thousand calories a day.

I picked up our bowls, and she moved to stop me. “I’ll get that.”

“Nope.” I didn’t stop moving. “You cooked, I clean. That’s the deal.”

She smiled up at me. “Thanks.”

“Thanks for cooking something so epic.” I set the bowls in the sink and turned on the faucet. “What do you want to do tonight?”

She stretched in her seat. “I dunno. I’m off tomorrow, so I don’t need to get to sleep early. Probably just read.”

I smiled at my hands as they washed the cheese out of a bowl. “I’m in.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve got to find out what happens to Bilbo. He just met Golem.”

“Ooh. That’s one of my favorite parts. All right. Reading it is.” She stood and picked up the casserole dish, moving it to the counter before digging out a plastic container to store it in. “Mmm. This is going to make a solid lunch tomorrow.”

“It should. I’m pretty sure Jack would commit a felony for this once he smelled it.”

“You should take some to work for Jack too. There’s plenty to share.”

“Good. Maybe he’ll give me a raise.”

Cam laughed, and when I looked over at her, possession washed over me. She was so beautiful in a way that held no expectation, unassuming and easy. I felt like a thief or a treasure hunter, like I’d found in her in some long abandoned place that could never dull her brilliance, no matter how lonely or dark it may have been. But now she was mine, and I wasn’t going to let her go.

She caught me watching and smiled in a way that I felt deep in my heart, and I turned, not caring that my hands were wet and soapy. I cupped her face, shifted my wet thumb against her skin, leaving a glistening streak in its wake. She wasn’t breathing, her eyes locked on mine, pupils widening as she waited for me to kiss her.

So I did.

I kissed her with my heart and with my soul, trying to tell her something words couldn’t allow because there just weren’t enough of them. Not the right ones. When I broke away, her eyes stayed closed, and she sighed. When they finally opened, she smiled again, blushing.

“What was that for?”

I shook my head, my face soft, mirroring hers. “Just because.”

YOUTUBE SAVES

Cam

THE NEXT NIGHT, I STOOD in my bathroom, watching the end of another YouTube video that made liquid eyeliner look easy, with a deep hatred in my belly for girls who knew how to do it.

Normally, I wouldn’t be so hateful, but frankly, I’d washed my face three times after ending up with eyeliner all over my face, and I was really, really annoyed. Rose and Lily made it seem so easy, but after my shower, I’d stood there looking at the haul of makeup, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into.

Keep it simple, stupid. Be the boss of this. Don’t let the makeup win, Emerson.

I took a breath and turned off my phone. No eyeliner — I was done with that noise. After re-applying my foundation, I picked up the brushes Lily had me buy. Eyeshadow I could do. A little dark on the outer edge. A lighter color in the crease. A creamy nude all over to blend it. I blinked at myself in the mirror.

It wasn’t so bad. My mood improved.

I had put in contacts, which I never did because I was lazy and didn’t really care. But for a fancy cocktail party and high heels? It was a contact sort of a night. I applied mascara, which was easy. Sorta. I maybe had to clean up my eyelids with a Q-tip, and I probably looked like a clown during the process, but whatever. I did it, and it looked great.

Then came a little blush, and the lip crayon thingy I’d gotten. That was honestly the hardest part — moving the crayon with as few strokes as possible, making both sides of my lip even, not smudging it. I’d primed it like Lily told me to, though, and my fingers were crossed that it would stay put.

I took a deep breath and looked in the mirror, feeling confident I’d done that right, though I eyed my hair suspiciously. My normal routine for makeup consisted solely of lip balm, and my hair just did its own thing. Sometimes I’d braid it or throw it in a messy bun, and the rest of the time I just let it do what it wanted. I’d let it air dry and it waved simply and looked passable without me having to jack with it.

I’d watched three tutorials on curling hair and felt mostly ready to try it myself.

My curling iron — an ancient relic of my mother’s — had been fired up, and I took a deep breath, going over the steps in the videos I’d watched. So piece by piece, I curled it, tongue sticking out and face screwed up. After half an hour, my hair looked pretty fucking good, by my estimation, and I’d only burned the back of my ear. I was calling that a win. The final touch was to hairspray it, which I did from root to tip, scrunching it after.

I stood back and looked myself over, shocked when I saw a legit lady staring back, which was weird.

Weird, and oddly awesome.

I tidied up in a hurry — Tyler would be home soon, and I wanted to be ready when he got there. We’d be leaving almost right away, plus I really, really wanted to see the look on his face when he saw me. I could gauge from that whether or not I’d done it right.

I made my way into my room and to the dress hanging on the back of my closet door. I pulled the satin tie of the little kimono my mom had gotten for me for Christmas and let it fall to the ground. I’d never worn it before, but realized its purpose when I needed to put on makeup before getting dressed. Who even knew what kind of mess I would have made of my dress if I’d worn it while dealing with foundation.

I reached for the dress reverently and stepped into it, slipped my arms in, holding my breath as I looked in the full-length mirror.

Then I remembered I couldn’t button the back without Tyler.

I blew out the breath between my lips, and they flapped together. I was filled with immediate regret, panicking that it messed up my lipstick. But when I leaned forward to check it in the mirror it was fine — thank God, because it’s very possible that might have cried if I’d had to wash any part of my face again.

I heard his key in the door, and my pulse raced. I slipped my feet into my shoes and took a breath, smoothing the skirt of the dress nervously in the mirror before turning and walking out to meet him, full of hope.

He was smiling when our eyes met, but he slowed to a stop, his smile slipping as he looked down my body, keys hanging in his hand.

Nerves rushed through me, washing away that hope I’d had — blood rushed to my cheeks and ears, making the curling iron burn throb. It was wrong, all wrong. I should never have agreed to the pageantry, or I should have begged Rose to help me get ready.

“Cam …” His voice was rough.

I looked down at my shoes and took a breath. “I … God, I knew I would mess this up. I’m sorry. I tried to do it, make myself beautiful, but—”

He was in front of me in a few steps, cupping my cheeks, angling my face so our eyes met. “Cam, you’re always beautiful. Always. When you’re sleeping. When you’re in a T-shirt and sneakers. Especially when you’re in a T-shirt and sneakers. But right now, I’ve never seen anything so perfect.”

Surprise washed over me. “You mean … I didn’t screw it up?”

He laughed and brushed his lips to mine, mindful of my lipstick. “You did the exact opposite of screwing up.”

I sighed, exhaling the anxiety and filling my lungs with sweet relief. “Would you do up my buttons in the back?” I asked, turning in his arms as excitement surged. I swept my hair off my neck.

“Of course.” I felt his hands on my back, the tug of the fabric. “I can’t believe you had a single doubt in your mind about yourself.”

I chuckled. “Well, agonizing over my hair and makeup for the last two hours probably had something to do with it.”

His hand lingered on my back as he bent to kiss the bare skin above my collar. “You could have skipped all of that and I’d still have stopped dead at the sight of you.”

I leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on top of my head for a long moment.

“I’d better go get changed so we can go. I’m ready to take you out and show the world you’re mine.” He pressed a kiss into my hair.

His words sent a shiver through me, and when he pulled away, part of me wanted to forget the party and follow him into his room instead, to stay there for the rest of the night.

But instead, I walked into the kitchen, appreciating the sound of my heels on the hardwood floor. There was some power in it, like a sexual battle cry. I stood a little straighter, feeling a lot sexier, and discovered that I was far more of a badass than I’d realized.

I poured a scotch while I waited on Tyler, feeling classy as fuck, sipping the amber liquid as I paced around the kitchen to make sure I wasn’t going to fall down. Rose and Lily were right — for whatever reason, the heels didn’t feel unstable or overly painful. I mean, who knew how I’d feel after five or six hours, but after trying on twelve pairs of heels, these were easily the most comfortable. If I’d bought the pair that made me walk like a penguin because they were so tall and unstable, I doubt I’d make it down the stairs.

I smiled at the thought of Tyler picking me up and carrying me. Or me riding piggy-back in this dress and high heels.

But when Tyler walked into the room, my smile slid off my face and onto the floor.

He glanced down at his wrist as he buttoned his cuff, his white button-down shirt hugging that long taper of his waist. A black suit coat hung on his forearm to match his pants — pants that fit his long, muscular legs perfectly. He pulled on the coat, and when he looked up at me and smiled, my knees almost buckled.

I realized my mouth was hanging open and closed it.

“I’ve never seen you in a full suit before,” I tried to say, but I mostly mumbled.

His smile pulled into a smirk as he approached me. “What?”

“You look amazing.” I must have been more clear because he heard me that time.

He slipped a hand around my waist and stepped close, nearly pinning me against the counter. “Good. Then we match.”

“Like a set?”

He nodded. “I really want to kiss you, but I’m afraid of your lipstick.”

“That makes two of us.”

He chuckled and kissed me softly again. “I guess that’ll have to do, for now. Are you ready?”

“Not really,” I said with a smile.

“You’re gonna do great. I promise.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Just stick with me. I’ll take care of you, Cam.”

Warmth blossomed in my chest. “I know you will.”

He took my hand, still smiling down at me. “Then let’s go.”

I smiled back, my anxiety all but gone, filled up on the confidence Tyler gave me, the sweetest gift.

Tyler

Cam gripped my arm like a lifeline as we walked down the stairs, her eyes down and in front of her, putting every ounce of concentration into surviving the descent. Not that it was necessary — I had her. There was no way she’d fall. No way I’d let her.

Breathtaking. That was the only word I could use to describe her.

It wasn’t her makeup, however nice that was, nor was it her dress, which happened to be stunning. It was Cam. She glowed from within, lit by her own batteries, her own spark. She felt good, even if she wasn’t sure whether or not anyone agreed, and that made her all the more beautiful to me.

When we stepped outside, I left her on the sidewalk, stepping to the curb to hail a cab. When it approached, I pulled open the door, looking back to find her standing there in the twilight, her small purse clutched in front of her, eyes big and wide, lips sweet and red. It was a moment that burned itself in my mind, one that I knew would flash before my eyes before they rested eternally.

I reached for her hand, and she took it, using it for leverage to step into the street and slip into the cab, and I slid in behind her.

“The Waldorf, please,” I told the cabbie, and then I sat back and reached for Cam’s hand.

She smiled at me and let out a breath.

“You okay?”

“I’m okay. I feel … better. You make me feel better.”

I smiled back and squeezed her hand. “Good. You’ve got nothing to be anxious about.”

“I think it wouldn’t be so hard if I did this all the time,” she said, gesturing to herself, “but I just feel so out of my element, you know? I’m just uncertain of everything.”

I slipped my arm behind her, pulling her close. “Well, then we should make sure you get plenty of practice. Let me take you to dinner when I get back from Nebraska.”

She laughed. “Dinner, huh?”

“Heels required.”

“Only if you wear this suit. Because, yes.”

I smirked and smoothed my tie. “You like my suit?”

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Oh, yeah. I think I’d like you out of your suit too.”

I chuckled, not wanting to get my hopes up, though after the other night, I ached for her, knowing enough to taste what it would be like to have her completely. I thought about buttoning the back of her dress, the bare slice of skin that disappeared as I fastened it, her skin so soft, I had to kiss it when I completed the task.

I recited running backs for a second to get a grip on myself.

She smoothed a hand over the skirt of her dress, toying with the end, with her eyes full of adoration. It was strange to see her without her glasses — she was foreign and familiar all at once, and truth be told, I missed them. But she was ever beautiful to me. This was just another shade of her that I hadn’t yet seen.

“Your dress is spectacular.”

She looked up at me, her eyes sparking with joy. “Thank you. It just made me feel so pretty that I had to get it.”

“You did good, Cam. Real good.”

She smiled. “Are they feeding us at this thing?”

“Yeah, dinner and hors d’oeuvres. And an open bar.”

“Hallelujah. What’s it for? I can’t believe I didn’t think to ask. I was too worried about the prospect of applying lipstick.”

I chuckled. “It’s a charity fundraiser for men’s cancers, put on by Gene Holmes.”

“The old quarterback for the Giants?”

“The very one. He throws this every year, always has some of the big names in sports. Jack bought four tables, enough for sixty of us. I think they sold something like a thousand tickets.”

“Wow. How much were tickets?”

“You don’t want to know.”

She made a face. “Well, now you have to tell me.”

I paused, wondering if she wouldn’t freak out worse once she knew. But I also knew that until her curiosity was satisfied, she wouldn’t let it go. “Five grand.”

Her eyes bugged. “Each?”

“Yup. Honestly, it’s not even that much in the way of these kinds of things.”

“That’s five million dollars raised,” she said, gaping.

“It’s a good cause, and Jack writes it off. No one’s kids are starving because we’re here, don’t worry.”

She shook her head. “That’s just crazy. I’m about to eat a five-thousand-dollar meal. I don’t even think I’ve ever had a hundred-dollar meal.”

I smiled down at her. “Don’t think of it that way. Think of it as a free dinner. With me.”

“Well, when you put it that way.” She looked nervous, her eyes shining a little in the dark cab. “Just hold my hand.”

I brushed my knuckles against her cheek. “Always.”

A little while later, we were walking up the stairs inside the hotel lobby, heading for the grand ballroom. Cam was on my arm, taking everything in as we followed a loose crowd of people in cocktail attire. When we reached the ballroom and gave the attendants our name, we headed into the opulent room, and Cam looked around, awestruck.

The space was vast, with high ceilings set with massive chandeliers that twinkled softly. A large dance floor stood at the end of the long room, and tables dotted most of the space, with two bars situated across from each other.

“Wow,” Cam said, her voice full of wonder, her arm, hooked in mine, squeezing gently. Her eyes wandered all over the room like she was soaking in a fantasy, taking it all in, her red lips parted just enough to see a sliver of white teeth behind them.

But I was only looking at her. “You can say that again.”

CRAZY HE CALLS ME

Cam

I STOOD AS STRAIGHT AS I could, hanging onto Tyler like I’d drown if I let him go. It was like something out of another world, like a ballroom in a castle. I supposed in a way that it was like modern royalty, this kind of grand luxury. It looked a little like a theater, with two floors of balconies along the walls where people milled around above us, talking and laughing, the steady hum of people under the music coming from the booth at the far end of the room. Everything was lit up, colors shifting from pinks to reds to purples to blues and around again, reflecting off the massive chandeliers hanging above us.

Tyler and I made our way to the bar to wait in line, and once I had whiskey in my hand, I felt loads better.

I took a sip, feeling the warmth of the whiskey as it moved through me.

Tyler looked like a dream, so tall and handsome, smiling brightly as we wandered through the crowd, stopping occasionally when he came across someone he knew. And he knew a lot of people — football players, baseball and basketball players, agents, sales reps, sportscasters. I did my best to remember everyone’s names, making associations. Jerry loves Derek Jeter: Jeter Jerry. Sam went to Purdue: Sucky Sam.

What? I grew up in Iowa. Football is one of the few things, besides reading and keggers, that there is to do. And Purdue sucks.

When we finally found Jack, he was standing with his wife and a group of other agents from their firm. His hair was cropped and combed neatly, his gray mustache trimmed and eyes crisp and blue. He lit up as we approached.

“Hey, you two made it.” He extended a hand, which Tyler took, pumping it once with a smile.

“Hey, Jack,” he said. “You remember Cam.”

“How could I forget,” he said, bending to kiss me on the cheek. “That mac and cheese you sent Tyler with knocked my socks off, kiddo.”

I laughed. “Happy to keep you fed, Jack.”

He turned to the woman at his side, smiling proudly. “I’d like you to meet my wife, Anne.”

Anne was beautiful, the apples of her cheeks high and cheerful, her straight hair in a tidy bob. “Nice to meet you, Cam. And it’s good to see you, Tyler. Jack said you’re heading home this weekend? Meeting with Darryl?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a nod. “It’ll be nice to get to a game and see my family, too. A two-for-one deal.”

“I’ll bet. You’ll have to tell your mom and dad I said hello. We’ve got to get back down there to see them soon.”

“I’m sure they’d like that. You glad to have Jack home?”

She rolled her eyes. “Usually not, but this time, you bet. I knew how much trouble that trip was going to be, and I was loath to send Jack into the trenches.”

Jack chuckled. “She loves when I’m gone. She doesn’t have to hide her shopping bags.”

“It’s a stress I don’t like to discuss,” she joked. “I’m glad Pharaoh is worked out, for the time being, at least.”

Jack huffed and lifted his glass to his lips. “It better be for good. I’m not doing that again. Next time, I’m sending Tyler.”

Tyler snickered and pulled me close, and someone came up to talk to Jack and Anne. I glanced around again, finally feeling a little settled, aided by Tyler’s arm around me, and the whiskey too.

“Oh, man. I forgot,” I said, trying to open my bag one-handed. “Here, hold this for me for one second.” I passed my drink to him and dug in my clutch for my phone. “Ah-ha! I swore to myself I’d take a selfie tonight.”

He laughed. “Here, let me take a picture for you.”

“No. There’s something even more desperate about getting someone to take a picture for you than taking a selfie. Don’t ask me why. That’s just how social media works.”

I held my phone out, trying to look inconspicuous, and snapped a picture. It was horrible. I frowned and tried again, making a kissy face, but I looked ridiculous. I took my drink from Tyler and tried one of me sipping it, but that didn’t work either — my face was flat as a pancake, and I had at least one extra chin.

I huffed. “How is it that tweens are more adept at taking selfies than me?”

“Because they spend all that time practicing.” Tyler said and took my phone from me. “Here. Take one with me.” He pulled me in close and held the phone up, and I grabbed his lapel, leaning into him. “Say ‘Hawkeyes suck!’”

I laughed, and he snapped the picture, showing it to me afterward with a smug look on his face.

“There you go.”

I shook my head, looking at it. It was amazing, the two of us laughing and happy, my smile as I looked up at him, and his looking into the camera and … it was just amazing. I pretended to pout. “How did you nail that on the first shot?”

He shrugged and held out his arm, drink at the end of it, in display. “I’m like a human selfie stick.”

I laughed. “So my T-rex arms are bad for selfies. Got it.”

But he kissed my temple. “Guess you’ll just have to take selfies with me indefinitely.”

I leaned into him again, blushing as a soft bell rang over the speakers and a soothing voice informed us we’d need to choose a seat for dinner. My stomach rumbled — I realized then that I hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast. Too busy shaving my legs and watching video tutorials to eat, I supposed. We took a seat with Jack and a few other agents and their dates, and I sat between Anne and Tyler.

I picked up the letterpress menu that sat on top of my plate and scanned it, grateful when I saw there was a steak option. We ordered and chatted, or listened to Jack tell stories, more like. He thrived with an audience, and he had so many stories to tell, from when he played to the hundreds of players he’d worked with.

By the time dinner was served, I could have eaten my napkin, and on my empty stomach, with the scotch and now whiskey in my belly, I was buzzing enough that one drink would have been the difference between me talking to someone about the merits of Battlestar Galactica, and this was not the crowd to delve into that with.

The server set my plate down in front of me, and everything else shut down.

See, when I’m really hungry and I finally start to eat, it’s like some weird animal instinct takes over. My brain sees the food and is like, Put all of that in your body, right now, as fast as you can. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if I unknowingly growled at people if they tried to talk to me, or, heaven forbid, if they tried to touch my food.

Which is why I was halfway into my steak before I realized that Tyler’s ex girlfriend had approached our table.

It was her laugh that brought me out of the haze, my jaw slowing as it worked on a piece of steak that I realized distantly was far too big to be considered appropriate. I turned to find her standing just behind him — he was turned in his chair to face her.

She was one of the most gorgeous girls I’d ever seen in my entire life.

Her hair was the color of honey, her skin flawless, an olive complexion that made me think she was Spanish or Italian. Her big, brown eyes drank Tyler in, her smile sweet, her teeth so white I needed sunglasses to look directly at them. Standing next to her, I felt like a cheap imitation, like the Fendi knock-offs they sold near Midtown that said Frendi.

As if that weren’t bad enough, she was wearing the runway edition of the nude dress I’d tried on the day before — the one that made me look like a meat tube — and she looked incredible in it.

Tyler glanced at me as I hovered over my plate mid-chew, gesturing to her. “Cam, this is Jessica.”

I knew exactly who she was — I wouldn’t have been a good friend if I hadn’t stalked Tyler’s ex on Facebook — but I sat there like a dummy for a second, wondering how her name wasn’t Flavia or Alessandra or something before snapping into action.

My steak was too big to swallow in its current state, and I couldn’t exactly spit it out, so I smiled with closed lips and extended a hand, pointing to my mouth with my other hand and rolling my eyes in jest.

She looked like she was pretending to be amused but actually thought I was horribly rude and strange.

“Uh,” she said as she took my hand, smiling, “It’s nice to meet you.”

I nodded and smiled, chewing as quickly as I could, taking the moment to watch the two of them.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Jess,” he said. There was a strange quality to his voice that I couldn’t place.

She smiled that million-dollar smile of hers. “Yeah, I came with Cade Matthews, the quarterback for the Patriots.”

Tyler smiled back, but it was tight. “Yeah, I know who he is.”

She laughed, and it sounded like a chorus of angels or something. Seriously, you could record it, make a ringer called Hot Girl Laughing, and make a million bucks. “Of course you do. I don’t know why I said it like that. I don’t mean to bother you, I just thought this might be the only chance I had to come say hi.”

I kept chewing, reaching for my water. Almost there.

“You look good, Tyler.” Now her voice had a strange quality, but this one I knew for a fact I didn’t like.

I swallowed and took a drink, Cam-the-nervous-girlfriend gone as the bulldogging friend took her place. “We haven’t met before, but I’ve heard all about you.”

Her smile faltered a little. “Oh. And who are you?”

“His girlfriend. You know, Tyler and I were just talking the other day about you. He really took it to heart, what you said. You remember — when you called him boring? But I still said that going to India was way too big for our first trip together, didn’t I, babe?”

I reached for his arm, and he looked down at me, smiling. “I mean, you’ve got to live a little.”

“Exactly. I thought skydiving was crazy enough.”

She blinked. “Skydiving? I thought you were afraid of heights?”

He shrugged. “Face your fears, you know?”

“I mean, I just don’t know how you ever handled him,” I said with a chuckle. “It’s hard to say no to Tyler, though, so when he wants to sneak into a bathroom to …” I gave her a look and looked around to make sure no one was listening, “you know, I just can’t deny him.”

A laugh burst out of Tyler, and Jessica’s eyes bounced between us, her lips parted, though she had a smile still stuck to them.

“Gosh, I’m so rude. Blah, blah, blah, me, me, me. So you’re here with Cade Matthews, huh?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she beamed, snapping back to it. “You’ve heard of him? I mean, girls aren’t usually into football. Like, none of my friends even know who he is.”

Pretty sure the entire feminist movement cringed with me. “I totally get what you see in him. He rides that motorcycle, right? I mean, gosh, he nearly killed himself wrecking it last season, didn’t he?”

“Totally. Thank God he was okay.”

“Yeah, I mean, you can’t really call a guy like that boring, can you? And I wouldn’t think twice about his being married three times in the last five years. That’s just experience, right? At least he’s interesting.”

Her cheeks flushed, her pretty lips flattening. “He is interesting. Thanks for reminding me. I should probably get back to him.”

I couldn’t read Tyler’s face, but there was no way I was rolling over at that point. “Have fun,” I said, overly cheery.

“Ah, you too.” Her cheeks flushed, and she nodded once before turning and walking away, her beautiful bare back framed by the draping of the dress.

The second her back was turned, the blood rushed to my cheeks. I touched his arm, embarrassed, my heart full of uncertainty at the realization that I very well may have upset him.

“Oh, my God. I’m sorry, Tyler. I shouldn’t have … I don’t know. Done whatever that was.”

But when he looked over at me, he was smiling, leaning toward me. “Don’t apologize. I’ve thought about what would happen if I ever saw her again a hundred times, and nothing I could have imagined was as perfect as that.”

I laughed and dropped my head to my hand. “She deserved that, but ugh. I’m so inappropriate. I told you I can’t be trusted with my mouth in public.”

He tipped my chin and kissed me sweetly. “I happen to love your mouth. Thank you for sticking up for me.”

“You’re welcome. On a scale of one to naked grandma, how weird was it to see her?”

He thought about it for a beat. “Boner in gym class.”

I laughed again.

“But you made it easier.” He thumbed my cheek. “Thank you for coming with me, Cam.”

I gazed up at him, lovestruck. “You’re welcome.”

When we turned back to the table, Jack was telling a boisterous story, and by the pat on the leg and understanding smile Anne gave me, I had a suspicion he’d started telling it to distract everyone from what I’d decided to call the Jessica Lazarus Event. As I picked up my fork and knife, I reminded myself not to eat like a hog, and I cut a demure, dainty piece of meat off, slipping it into my mouth.

The rest of dinner was uneventful, past Jack’s stories, one after another, including one about Tyler’s dad from when he played for the Chiefs early in his career. I was happy and comfortable, feeling like I was amongst old friends, with no notice of my shoes or dress or the multitude of strangers around us. Just simple contentment of company. And when our plates were being cleared away, Tyler leaned over to me and whispered, “Dance with me.”

I hadn’t lied to Jessica. I couldn’t say no to Tyler.

“Of course,” I answered and slipped my hand into his.

People stood in clusters between tables, others dancing on the huge dance floor as the Billie Holiday song “Crazy He Calls Me” played, which seemed wildly appropriate, and he pulled me into the throng, bringing me into his chest as he took my hand.

With heels on, I was a much better height — the top of my head almost came to his chin — and I rested my cheek against his chest, rocking with him in time to the music.

With Tyler, I wasn’t afraid. I didn’t care who saw me or what they thought. I didn’t care if we looked silly together because of our height difference, or if they didn’t like my lipstick or dress. None of it mattered. The anxiety fell away, there in his arms. It was one of the safest places in the whole world.

He sped up, leading me around in circles with his hand against my back, holding me close, not just rocking but pulling me in rhythm with his feet, not fast enough to need to think to keep up, but enough that we were dancing. He smiled down at me, and I laughed, surprised.

“You can dance,” I said.

“I can,” he echoed and spun me around quickly enough to make me giggle.

“Well, color me surprised.”

He smirked and leaned to whisper in my ear, “I’ve got more in my bag of tricks.”

I lifted my lips to his ear. “Show me.”

“Just say the word.”

“The word.”

He laughed and spun me around again, dancing me around until the song ended.

I sighed, sad the song was over, but when “Bust A Move” came on, he straight up grinned, backing away from me. I didn’t even know what to expect, bouncing my shoulders and wiggling my hips, thinking we were just playing. But my jaw hit the floor when Tyler legit busted a move.

Tyler clapped his hands and shuffled like a breakdancer, rolling his shoulders before he paused and jerked his ankle like Michael Jackson. When he spun around and broke into the running man, a cackle burst out of me.

He broke out every 90s dance move I think he knew, the Roger Rabbit, the Side Kick, the Heel Toe, even the Carlton. He looked like he was straight off of In Living Color, which I’d watched reruns of at my friend’s house in elementary school, since we didn’t have cable. The people around us cheered him on, losing it during the breakdown when he did the Butterfly until he dropped his ass all the way to the ground.

I thought I might die of pride.

He was lit up so bright by the time the song ended, and everyone clapped as he made his way over to me, grabbing me around the waist to spin me around.

“You’re incredible,” I said, laughing as I hung onto his arms.

“No, you just make me want to dance.” He kissed my cheek.

It was then that I saw him, really saw him. I saw a future with him, maybe even a forever. I breathed deep, unafraid there in his arms, smiling at him like he was the only man that ever was or would be. It overwhelmed me in the best way. But I needed a minute alone to let it sink in.

I slipped my fingers under his lapel, feeling his solid chest under my hand. “I’m going to run to the restroom, okay? Want a drink?”

“I’ll get them,” he said with a smile, still holding me close.

“Nah, I’m going. Look, here comes Jack. You guys hang out and I’ll grab us drinks and pee, okay?”

He looked a little wounded, so I put on my take-no-shit face. And just when I thought I had him, he pulled out his wallet and handed me cash. “All right, but use this for the tip.”

I made a face, and he laughed before kissing me.

“Hurry back.”

I smiled at him as I turned. “I will. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I’ll be right here.”

I walked through the ballroom, my heart so light, it could have flown away. On my way to the bathroom, I made plans in my head to fix up my lipstick, briefly panicking as I wondered if it was all smudged and smeared. But I had faith that Tyler would have told me.

I had faith in Tyler.

The thought hit me deep in my chest. The way I felt made it undeniably clear that I’d given him my heart, my trust. And I wasn’t afraid to give it to him.

What I was afraid of was losing him.

I pushed the thought away, remembering how he smiled at me, how he touched me, taking comfort in the moments we had instead of what would come.

The bathroom was crowded with women, and after I peed, I sidled up at the mirror, digging through my clutch for my lipstick. I looked myself over, making sure I still had it together, and by some miracle, my reflection was very close to what it had been when I’d left the apartment hours before.

I popped the cap off the tube and got to work touching up my lipstick, concentrating really hard, so hard that I didn’t see that Adrienne had stepped up next to me, not until she spoke.

“Hey, Cam.”

I looked over, surprised to hear my name, though I smiled when I saw her. “Adrienne! I didn’t expect to see you here.”

She smiled back and washed her hands. “Yeah, it’s a pretty big industry event every year, so a lot of us come. Are you here with Tyler?” she asked, and uncertainty crept in, realizing I had no idea how she felt about the whole thing.

My smile fell. “Yeah, I am. Adrienne, I’m really sorry about what happened on your date. I had no idea how he felt.”

She shook her head, still smiling as she reached for a paper towel. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not gonna pretend like I’m not bummed, but I wasn’t attached, Cam. Not like the two of you are.”

I sighed and capped my lipstick. “Thank you for being so graceful.”

Her smile pulled up on one side. “Hey, it wouldn’t pay to piss off the chick who throws the best singles nights in New York, would it?”

I laughed. “So does that mean you’re coming to the next one?”

“Is that bartender in the Spiderman costume single? Because I would most definitely be interested in talking to him about the social injustices of arachnophobia.”

I snorted. “Greg is definitely single, and I’m sure he’d love to see Catwoman’s whip.”

“Then I wouldn’t miss singles night for the world.”

“Good,” I said with a smile. “I’ll see you then.”

“Have fun tonight. You look beautiful, by the way.”

I blushed and waved a hand. “Not nearly as gorgeous as you. I bet you wake up like that.”

She chuckled and headed toward the door. “Yeah, except with more drool.”

I fell in step with her. “Whatever. I bet even your drool is sparkly and tastes like champagne.”

That one elicited a full-blown laugh from her, which made me feel way better about everything, somehow.

We parted ways just outside the door, and I caught sight of Tyler on the dance floor with Jim, Anne, and a handful of other people. He looked over like he knew I was there and smiled at me, sending my heart into a flutter. I waved and pointed to the bar, making my way to get us drinks.

I was too busy looking his direction still, even though he’d already turned back to the dance floor, and as I walked around a table of hors d’oeuvres, the toe of my shoe caught on the linen. Everything moved in slow motion — the second my foot stopped, I knew what was going to happen. I pitched forward, noting the pattern on the carpet, thinking about whether or not I should drop my clutch or if I should tuck and roll. I also wondered how many people were about to see my underwear, and I spent a millisecond being glad I wore any at all.

What? I was going to a fancy dress-up dinner with Tyler Knight. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have considered going commando, too.

But just when I thought I was done for, I saw a pair of men’s shoes, and when a set of strong hands caught me, time started again.

I looked up, full of adrenaline and grateful thoughts, until I saw who grabbed me.

Kyle looked down at me, blond hair combed and shining and jaw like marble, smiling crooked as I leaned into his chest at the odd angle where he’d caught me.

“Whoa, you okay?

I immediately straightened up and took a step back. “I’m fine. Thanks for catching me.”

“Hey, no problem. You look incredible, Cam.”

I smiled tightly. “You too.” And he did. It wasn’t that he wasn’t handsome. It was that he was an asshole, which negated all hotness.

“I didn’t know you wore contacts,” he said.

I shrugged. “I usually don’t. Who did you bring tonight?”

“No one — I’m here stag. Where’s Tyler?”

“Over there with Jack. I was actually just about to get us some drinks, so—”

“Oh, good. I was heading there myself.”

I kept smiling like I was wearing a plastic mask. “Great.”

We stepped over to the bar and got in line. “How’s Tyler doing? We haven’t talked since he stormed out of the bar yesterday. Is he still pissed?”

I tried to keep my face together, though I was surprised. Not that they’d fought — I mean, I knew Kyle well enough to want to fight him every time I saw him — but that Tyler didn’t tell me.

“I don’t know. Have you asked him?”

He shrugged. “I texted him, but he didn’t answer. Did he mention it to you?”

I kept my eyes on the man’s back in front of me. “No.”

“It’s not all that weird, I guess. We were arguing about you.”

My head whipped around. “What?”

He was smiling, but it was a lie. “Yeah. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. I thought you two were … close, or whatever.”

I didn’t respond, just waited on him.

“I’m just looking out for you, Cam. Tyler … he’s not like you. Sure, he hangs out in the bookstore, since there’s booze there, but that’s not his thing. He doesn’t like comics and the stuff you’re into. Look at him.”

He nodded toward the dance floor where Tyler stood among the beautiful people, football players and models, sportscasters. He looked in his element. He looked like he belonged.

“This is where he belongs,” Kyle said, as if he were reading my mind, his blue eyes ice-cold. “I’m not saying he’s not into you. I’m just trying to explain that at the end of the day, you’re not the kind of girl for him, and he’s not the kind of guy for you.”

“And what exactly is my type?”

We took a step closer to the bar. “I don’t know, Cam. But Tyler’s a hero. He wants to save the girl and be the good guy. You’re a project for him. Someone to rescue from loneliness, just like you fix up people in relationships. I heard about his date with Adrienne Christie. See, that makes sense. But look around you, Cam. I saw Jess come talk to you guys. That’s Tyler. Girls like her. You’re cute and all, don’t get me wrong. But it’s only a matter of time before Tyler breaks down and finds his way back to himself. I’ve known him for years, been with him through everything, all of it. And this isn’t him.”

“Maybe he’s changed.” I was trying to convince myself just as much as Kyle.

He chuckled and stepped up to the bar. “Maybe. But I doubt it.”

The bartender took his order as well as mine, and Kyle tipped as I stood there beside him, feeling like a fool for being there, a fool for listening to him, just a fool in a costume, pretending just as much as if I were dressed up as Rogue or Phoenix.

Kyle handed the drinks to me and gave me a look full of pity and maybe a little contempt. “Just think about it, Cam. You don’t want to get hurt.” He took a sip of his drink. “Good luck with him, and everything. And try to watch your step, all right?”

He smirked, and I squeezed the glasses, stopping myself from throwing one in his face. No whiskey deserved to be wasted on Kyle.

I walked away, heart banging, beelining for Tyler, ready to tell him everything. I was so angry at Kyle, stupid Kyle being a stupid, meddling jackass. A flush bloomed hot on my cheeks, realizing I’d been no better at times.

But then his words crept into my mind, and my anger twisted into shame and doubt. As much as I hated Kyle, he wasn’t wrong. I’d seen the girls Tyler dated, even met one tonight. Part of me wondered how he’d ever been with them — they were so different — and the other, louder part thought it was simple, that they were in a bracket of society that I didn’t belong to. My thoughts tripped and skipped, my eyes searching the crowd, lighting on woman after woman. So many of them were beautiful, movie star smiles and long, luscious hair. Long legs and designer dresses. And when you held me up to any of them, I fell short in more than just my height.

I was reminded of homecoming all those years ago, when my friends dragged me to the dance and I saw Will and Kenzie crowned. I felt just as alien and separate now as I did then, watching the boy I thought I loved, who I’d given myself to, the boy who threw me away the moment I did.

I shouldn’t have trusted Will. And as much as I wanted to trust Tyler, I realized that deep down, I doubted him still. He didn’t tell me about the fight with Kyle, maybe because part of him knew Kyle was right.

Maybe tonight was just an illusion, something I’d made up, reading too much into his actions, his words. Maybe he wasn’t that into me at all, and I’d imagined the whole thing, just like I had with Will. Because even now, I didn’t know if Will ever really felt anything, or if it was just the misunderstanding of a girl too young to know better.

When I found Tyler, I was close to coming unhinged, my heart pounding, thoughts galloping away like wild horses. He knew immediately that something was wrong and pulled me aside.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, cupping my cheek, searching my face.

I tried to smile and shook my head. “Nothing,” I said, leaning into his palm, wondering what in the world to do.

BEGGING FOR THREAD

Tyler

COLD DREAD RAN THROUGH ME the minute I saw her walking back to me. But she smiled at me, told me she was fine, and even though I knew it was a lie, I felt powerless. I couldn’t force her to talk to me, to be honest with me, to trust me. Didn’t matter how much I wanted her to come around. It wasn’t up to me.

Something had happened, but she wouldn’t tell me what. It was plain to see … she’d gone from open, happy, mine, to disappearing into her thoughts, her mood shifting inward for the rest of the night. Sure, she still participated, still smiled, but it didn’t touch her eyes. She talked, laughed, but none of it came from her heart.

The cab ride home was long and quiet, putting aside what I wanted to give her the space she wanted. Because what I wanted was to machine-gun her with questions, to make her talk to me so I could fix it. Even the physical space between us in the taxi as she leaned on her door, looking out the window, was vast.

It was only a few feet, but she was miles away.

My anxiety ratcheted with every second, every word left unspoken hanging between us. You know, you can feel a breakup before it happens, as if the other person’s thoughts project into every molecule, and when you breathe them in, you can read their mind.

She took my hand when I offered it to help her out of the cab, and she didn’t let it go, not as we walked up the stairs to our apartment in silence, not until we were inside when she turned to me, eyes brimming with pain and tears.

I reached for her, but she stepped back, shaking her head.

My jaw clenched. “Tell me what happened, Cam.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“That’s bullshit. It matters to me.”

“Tyler …” She looked so uncertain, her thoughts screaming through the silence.

“I don’t know where the girl who I danced with earlier has gone. You won’t talk to me. You won’t trust me with whatever’s going on. I’ve been patient, I’ve tried to give you space and let you be, but you’ve had one foot out the door the whole time. One minute you’re up, the next you’re down. I want to be with you, and I can shoulder a lot, but you’ve got to go all in. I need to know you’re in this with me.”

Her chin quivered, and she pursed her lips to stop it. “You’re right. This isn’t fair to you. I’ve second guessed everything, doubted everything, including myself. The anxiety, the worry … it’s driving me crazy. And so I’m driving you crazy.”

“I want you to drive me crazy. Can’t you see that?”

She shook her head again. “Tyler, no you don’t. This is supposed to be easy. When you fall for someone, shouldn’t it be easy? I don’t feel like we’re the same. We’re not equals.”

My hands shook, my fists tight by my side, trying to hang on to her. “What do you want from me?  I’ve done everything, everything to prove it to you, but here we are again.”

“You’ve done everything right, but … you don’t understand. How could you? We’re too different. And the last time I felt this way, I ended up hurt. So hurt.” Her voice broke.

I moved for her, stepping into her, and she let out a breath as I drew one, my brow low, eyes hard. She was backed against the couch, and I held her small face, tilting it up to mine. “Am I not enough for you, Cam?”

Tears filled her eyes. “You’re too much.” The words were but a whisper.

“So you’re just going to walk away?”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

I gently squeezed her jaw cupped in my palms. “You have to choose. That’s it. You don’t walk away. You let me in. You just have to choose.”

She took a shuddering breath, her brown eyes brimming, but I saw a flicker of hope. “What if I can’t?”

I shook my head, searching her face. “You can. You can do anything. You just have to believe in me. In us. That’s all.”

“I want to, but—”

“Then that’s all that matters. I need you to see that. Nothing else matters except I want you, and you want me. Tell me you want me.”

Her breath was shallow. “I want you,” she said quietly. “But—”

“No more buts. There’s nothing left to say.” I leaned down, my lips on a track for hers. “Don’t fight me, Cam. Don’t run away.”

Her lids fluttered closed, forcing tears down her cheeks, and I felt her let go, felt her fall into me. I just didn’t know for how long.

So I did the only thing I could to show her how I felt — I kissed her.

I kissed her with all of me, heart and soul, told her with every motion, every touch, every breath that I wanted her. That she was perfect. That I was hers.

She leaned into me, slipped her hands up my chest, under my jacket, and I pulled her close, as close as I could.

I broke away after a moment, eyes closed, pressing my forehead to hers as we caught our breath.

“I want you, Cam. I want your body, your heart, your soul. I’ll give you mine in exchange. But you have to choose me, right here, right now. Do you trust me?”

“More than anyone,” she said, her voice heavy with decision and emotion.

“Then promise me. Let this be it. Once and for all. You and me. No more uncertainty. No more questions. Just us.”

Her eyes met mine, shining in the low light. “I promise.”

I sighed with relief, pulling her close, leaning down to take her mouth with possession, and she sank into my arms, her body against mine, my hands at her jaw, in her hair, down her neck, the curve of her breast, her waist. I stood, taking her with me, her shoes hitting the ground, legs locking around my waist. My heart pounded, our tongues circling, lips moving together, and my hands slipped up her bare thighs to her ass, pulling her into me.

She moaned softly, her arms squeezing tighter around my neck, and I held her close, moving toward her dim bedroom.

I lay her down in bed, and she broke away, brown eyes big, full of fear and love.

“I’m afraid,” she said softly, and I touched her cheek.

“Then hold on to me. As long as we have each other, we can survive anything,” I whispered, voice faltering. “Hold on to me.”

Her hands cupped my jaw, and as I looked down at her in the soft light, I only hoped she would.

She kissed me and I felt her fear. I felt her worry and sadness. I felt her doubt and knew it was herself that she doubted, not me. And that somehow hurt me worse.

But with every second, I felt those feelings slip away, felt her let herself go, forget the rest. To remember me. To be with me so wholly and fully that nothing else mattered.

It was all that I wanted.

Her hands slipped under my jacket again, this time pushing it over my shoulders, and I shrugged it off, tossing it away. We kissed, hips pressed together, rolling gently, savoring the feeling, the need. Her hands trembled as she untied the knot of my tie and unfastened the buttons of my shirt, and when she laid her palms against my skin, my breath caught and hips flexed, pressing her into the bed.

She sighed against my lips.

“I want you naked,” I said, my fingers trailing down her body, under the hem of her dress hitched up to her hip. Her skin was soft, smooth, hot under my hand, and I gripped her tight, pressing my hips into hers again before backing away.

I took her hand and pulled her off the bed, the two of us standing before each other, breath shaking.

She put her back to me, sweeping her hair off her neck, face turned, eyes down, and my eyes followed the line of her profile as I unbuttoned her dress until that sliver of skin was exposed to me again. My fingers skated down her back, and she shivered under my touch, sending a shock of pleasure through me.

My hands ran across the curve of her shoulder, taking the dress gently with them, down her arms until it fell to the ground.

I couldn’t breathe. She turned, standing before me, skin smooth and soft, the contrast of her black bra and panties sending my pulse ticking up a notch. My eyes moved down her body and back up, coming to rest on her parted lips that whispered my name.

I pulled off my shirt, lips connecting with hers, hands trailing up her thighs, to the swell of her ass as she pressed her body against mine, arms winding around my neck. And I grabbed her by the hips, moving her back onto the bed, sliding in next to her. My thigh lay between her legs, and she twisted them around it, flexing, arching her back, grinding against me, moaning into my mouth.

I deepened the kiss, my tongue slipping farther into her mouth, and she shifted her hips enough to reach for my belt, then my button, then the zipper. Her hands slid down the skin of my stomach, under the band of my underwear and lower until she gripped me.

It was my turn to moan at the shock of pleasure, her warm hand stroking me as she sighed and kissed me.

I’d never wanted anyone so much. I’d never been so afraid to want someone so much.

My hand found her cheek, her hair, cupped the back of her head to hold her close, and she tugged at the waist of my pants.

I backed away, brushed her hair from her face. I sighed and closed my eyes, bending to kiss her once, hard. “Stay right here,” I whispered when I broke away. “I’ll be right back.”

My heart pounded as I rolled off her bed and made my way into my room, digging through my nightstand for the things we’d need. When I came back in, I stopped in the doorway at the sight of her stretched out on the bed, still in her black underwear and bra, watching me with just as much awe as I watched her.

Our eyes locked as I walked toward her, dropping my pants and stepping out of them and my shoes. Even as I climbed onto the bed toward her and she reached for me, I was lost in her eyes, until mine closed, and I kissed her.

She wrapped herself around me, the kiss deep and intense, my hands trailing down her neck to her breast. There was no lining — I could feel her tight nipple under my palm as I squeezed gently, hooking my fingers under the edge to expose her. I broke my lips away to move down her body, pausing when I reached her breast resting in my palm to kiss her pink nipple.

I closed my eyes, circling my tongue, squeezing gently, and her fingers slid into my hair with a soft hum. I hummed back and felt goosebumps peak across her skin as my hand skated down her ribs, down her stomach, to the hem of her panties.

I slipped a hand inside, moving back up to kiss her, feeling the warmth against the pad of my finger as I brushed the tip of her. Her back arched, rolling her hips, searching for my finger with intention as I traced up the wet line, circling the sensitive spot at the top when I reached it. Then back down again, teasing her until I finally slipped my finger inside her.

She gasped, rolling her hips again as I palmed her, needing her wet, and she was — she was so small, so slight, I didn’t want to hurt her. I never wanted to hurt her.

My finger curled, finding the rough spot inside, grazing it steadily with each flex of my palm until her breath was shallow, eyes pinned shut, and she squeezed around my finger once, just once, enough for me to know she was close.

I moved down her body again, pulling off her panties before lying between her thighs. She looked down at me, and I met her eyes for only a moment before looking back to my hands as I stroked her, parted her, closed my lips over her and sucked. Her hands found my hair again. I licked up the line, sucking again once I reached the top, and she writhed, knees raising and parting to open herself up to me. When I looked up, her head was kicked back, ribs protruding as she sucked in a deep breath.

Her fingers tightened in my hair. I didn’t want her to come yet, not like this. I wanted to be inside of her, wanted to feel her fall apart around me. So I let her go.

She looked down at me, eyes barely open, licking her lips as she leaned up and grabbed me, frantic, pulling me to her to kiss me, licking the taste of herself off my lips, slipping her tongue deep into my mouth, breathing me in.

And I couldn’t wait for her any longer.

I pulled away, both of us panting, reaching for the condom I’d brought as she sat up enough to take off her bra and fling it across the room. She watched me, eyes locked on my hands as I rolled the condom on. Her lips were parted, tongue darting out to wet them, and when she met my eyes again, she looked afraid.

But I smiled knowingly. “I’m not going to hurt you, Cam.”

She nodded as a pain shot through my chest, wondering if she’d hurt me instead. But she’d promised. It was over. She was mine, and now I’d claim her as she’d already claimed me.

I grabbed the bottle labeled Slide, and her face softened with realization of what it was. She took it from my hand and poured a little out, coating her hands before she reached for me.

I sighed at the feeling, her slick, warm hands around my shaft, squeezing and sliding, gripping and flexing. I poured a little out into my palm and slipped my hand between her legs to stroke her. But she didn’t want to wait any more than I did.

She pulled me down to her to kiss me again, and I moved between her legs, settling in, my shaft against the wetness of her. Her hips flexed and rolled against me, shifting and angling, looking for my crown, and I pulled back my hips, dropping between her legs until I rested at her entrance.

She stopped kissing me, her body frozen against me, her eyes finding mine.

Neither of us breathed when I flexed, filling her slowly.

Her eyelashes fluttered and closed with a sigh, chin tilting back.

She was so small, so tight around me, I pulled out slowly, body trembling with want, with need for her as I held on to control with everything I had. I rolled my hips gently, and her head dropped to the side, stretching her neck long, and I kissed the soft skin up to her ear.

I wound my arms around her and I sat, bringing her with me, holding her up, guiding her until her knees were braced on the bed, her arms hanging on my shoulders. She needed to be in control until I knew how much of me she could take, and she seemed to understand, watching me with half-closed eyes as she shifted slowly, relaxing her thighs. Her breath was shallow, her thighs trembling, and my heart thumped against my ribs like it was reaching for her.

“Are you okay?” I muttered, barely able to think, barely able to stop myself from grabbing her hips and dragging her down my length until she hit the end.

She nodded. “So good.” The words were a breath as she sank farther onto me. I squeezed her thighs, trying to hang onto her. I tried to hang on to my breath. I tried to hang on to my heart. But she had all of me.

She flexed her legs and rolled her hips, dragging me in a slow circle inside of her, raising herself up before dropping down again.

I couldn’t take it.

“Cam,” I whispered, dropping my head to her shoulder, body shaking. Her arms cradled my head as she rolled, flexing again, dropping down even more. She was close, so close to taking all of me, and I was close, so close to letting it all go. I needed her, a slow need that burned so hot, I could think of nothing else.

Her hips rolled faster, and I cupped her breast, thumbed her nipple, held her to me as she moved faster still, squeezing me tighter, clenching around me, gasping so deep, it stole my breath. And she came, the force of her body more than I could take. She sank down to the end of me as she pulsed and flexed, her breath shallow as she muttered words of pleasure, and I grabbed her hips, lifting her, pulling her down, filling her, once, twice, until I came, my heart stopping, her name on my lips.

She sank down until there was no space between us, our bodies wound and hooked around each other so that every inch of us touched, from head to toe. My arms were around her small waist, hers around my neck, and she squeezed me tight.

We stayed that way until our hearts slowed, and she lifted her head to look up at me, her eyes full of tenderness. She touched my face and kissed me reverently. And all I could do was think about how perfect the moment was. How perfect she was.

She leaned back, pulling on my neck, and I laid her down before rolling away, separating us, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. But I headed for the bathroom to clean up as my mind began to wander through the night, through my feelings, through her feelings, tallying up what I could control and what I couldn’t.

Cam was tucked under the covers when I came back, facing the empty side of the bed, and I slipped in beside her. She shifted until her body was against mine again, our legs entwined.

I brushed her hair back, traced a path up the curve of her shoulder. “Still afraid?”

She blushed, laughing softly. “Not as scared as I was. Just be careful in the future because I read some really disturbing articles on cervical bruising that have me spooked.”

I chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. But that’s not really what I was asking.”

Her smile fell. “Oh.” She paused for a breath. “Yes, but you make me want to be brave.”

I pulled her into my chest, feeling the pain with every heartbeat. “Cam, there’s only so much I can do. It’s all up to you. All of it. Because I’ve given you all of me. You have to do the rest. It won’t work any other way.”

Her cheek was warm against my skin, her head tucked under my chin. “I know,” she said softly.

I didn’t know what else to say, so I didn’t say anything, just held her against me, tracing patterns on her arm until she fell asleep. But sleep wouldn’t find me, not when I was consumed with worry over what tomorrow might bring. Not when I wanted the night to last as long as it could. But I thought of her promise, held on to it like it would save me, and only then did I slip away into sleep.

THE CONSTRUCT

Cam

THE MORNING CAME TOO SOON, with the chiming of my alarm that ripped me from Tyler’s arms. It was early — seven in the morning may as well have been four for as tired as I was, the long night coming back to me slowly, emotion by emotion.

Dancing with him. Kissing him. Laughing with him. His body against mine. The promise I’d made.

I sighed, smiling over at him. He lay stretched out in my bed on his stomach, shoulders rising and falling slowly, his cheek pressed against the pillow and arms folded underneath it.

I could have stayed there all day.

He’d asked me last night to let go, and I did. I wanted to be with him more than anything. I wanted his happiness, wanted to see him look at me the way he did last night again and again.

The weekend was going to be forever long without him.

I sighed again as I slipped out of bed and pulled on a T-shirt, making my way into the kitchen to brew coffee. Tyler was off since he was leaving for Nebraska, so I dressed silently, not wanting to wake him. I turned to watch him for a moment longer and smiled, filled again with the sense of being his, of him being mine.

Optimism blossomed in my heart.

It was a little later than I usually woke, so I hurried out of the apartment with coffee in hand and my bag on my shoulder, popping in my earbuds as I headed for the train station. I happily replayed all the highlights from the night before, the feeling of being in his arms as he towed me around the dance floor. His smile. His body. His admissions. He was afraid just as much as I was, but instead of running away, he was running toward me.

But this was it. No more uncertainty for me, not after him begging me to choose. Not after the promise I made. There was no going back — I had to keep myself in check, because I’d used all my extra lives. It was time to put up or shut up.

Once I’d savored the best moments, my mind turned to the other events of the night. Seeing Jessica, what I’d said to her, wondering if anyone at the table had heard me. Nearly tripping and falling into Kyle. Kyle’s cold smile and his words, words that were the voice of every fear I had. Those words echoed in my mind, and as hard as I pushed, as deep as I tried to bury them, they always came back.

And deeper still my thoughts wound, into the basement of my heart, down to Will. Lying in his arms, the promises he made and broke. As long ago it was, the wound had been ripped open, fresh and raw. That mistake had changed me, a mistake I swore I’d never repeat. But I found myself breaking all the rules I’d carefully made to protect me against the very situation in which I’d ended up.

By the time I made it to work, my smile had disappeared, the lightness of my heart gone, weighed down by anxiety. The little voice in my head pointed out every shortcoming, every misstep, undermined everything until it was all caving in on me. That voice told me everything I didn’t want to hear, whispering its evil in my ear.

It’ll never work.

He could never really love me.

He’s lonely. I’m just keeping the bench warm.

But the way he looked at me, the way he touched me …

Maybe that’s just Tyler. It’s not me, it’s just his natural state.

But he told me he wants me.

So did Will.

He’s nothing like Will.

But he makes me feel exactly like Will did.

And that was really the core of it. I’d only felt like this about a man before once — with Will — and he destroyed me. Tyler would be exponentially worse, and I wondered how I would survive it without it obliterating my soul, turned into a nuclear wasteland.

My thoughts circled around and around, a carousel of broken horses to the tune of staggering self-doubt. And by the time I made it to work, my compass was spinning in circles. I barely looked at Rose when I walked into the office, the war in my heart aching, ribs sore.

“Hey,” she said.

I set down my bag, not meeting her eyes. “Hey.”

She was watching me, and I pulled out my laptop, refusing to look at her.

“How’d it go last night?” she asked, though I heard a hundred other questions.

“Fine,” was all I offered.

“Right. I mean, you look totally fine.”

I didn’t say anything, just picked up papers and stacked them up, moving them to a corner of my desk.

“Wow, Cam. That bad?”

My throat tightened, and I swallowed down tears. “No, it wasn’t bad at all. It was perfect. He’s perfect.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and sniffed, meet her eyes for only a millisecond before looking away. “I don’t know, Rose…” I struggled to find the words, flashes of the night before rolling through my mind. “I’m just really confused.”

“What happened?”

“We went to the party and everything was fine. Great, even. I felt right with him. But then I ran into his friend who told me — not for the first time, mind you — that I’m not for Tyler. He said Tyler was going to get bored and move on. That I’m not his type.”

She blinked, surprised. “What a dick. Why would he say that to you?”

I shrugged. “He’s not wrong.”

“I dunno. I can’t believe that Tyler would get bored and up and leave anyone.”

“I don’t belong in the same universe as him. Caring about him isn’t enough, Rose. I’m not enough. Being with him last night just proved it. You should have seen his ex. You know that meat sock dress I tried on the other day?”

Her nose wrinkled. “Yeah.”

“Well, she had on the Armani version of it, and she looked like she walked off the cover of Vanity Fair.”

“So?”

I shook my head. “You don’t understand, Rose. Look at you. You’re beautiful and edgy and smart, and guys love you — I mean, you legit have one of the hottest guys in Manhattan plowing you with his pierced dick.”

A laugh shot out of her. “Oh, my God.”

“But that’s not me,” I said, forging on. “I don’t date the hot guys. I did that once and I got burned. I get the guys who are prematurely balding and play Diablo, not the beautiful ex-football players. I’m way out of my league, and when he realizes it, when he leaves me …” I swallowed again, my nose burning. “I don’t think I can recover from that, Rose.”

“So you end it before it’s begun?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to end it.”

“No, but if you keep this up you won’t have a choice. You have Tyler Knight tripping all over himself to convince you that he wants to be with you. What’s the problem here?”

“Me.” I said sadly.

Rose rolled her chair over to the file cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Maker’s. “You need a drink.” She rolled back and picked up my empty coffee cup, wiping the inside off with her sweatshirt sleeve before pouring a finger of whiskey.

“It’s eight in the morning, Rose.”

“So what?”

She held it out like it was medicine, and I took it with a sigh. It burned when I sipped it.

“Ah, ah. Drink up, kid.”

I rolled my eyes and took the shot, eyes pinching shut against the heat.

“Okay,” she said, “so I want to know two things. First, did you tell Tyler what his friend said? And second, what happened to you before that messed you up so bad?”

I rubbed my face, hating myself. “No, I didn’t tell Tyler what he said. What good would it do?”

“For as smart as you are, you’re being a real dummy,” she said flatly, with love. “He would want to know. Wouldn’t you want to know if someone warned him off of you?”

I sniffed. “Yeah.”

“You have to tell him, even if it’s only so he can tell you it’s not true.”

“You really think it will help?”

“Absolutely. Now tell me about whatever else has you twisted up.”

I blew out a breath. “You know how I’m all about sorting people?”

She nodded.

“Well, I think really I’ve been sorting myself, trying to keep myself safe from getting hurt again.” I told her all about Will, about the shame, about how I felt like such a fool while she sat and listened, eyes sad.

When I was finished, she didn’t say anything, not right away. She grabbed my coffee cup and reached for the whiskey again. “You need another drink.”

She passed it over, nodding at me when I hesitated.

I sighed and took a sip, and I was glad she didn’t make me shoot it again.

“Okay, I’m gonna tell you something, and I need you to hear me.”

I nodded.

She leaned forward. “Come closer.”

I leaned forward too, cracking a hint of a smile.

She looked me dead in the eye and said, “Tyler is not Will.”

I swallowed hard.

“Do you hear me? He’s not Will. The rules you made? The shelves people belong on? You’ve created them yourself. You’ve built your own prison out of something imaginary, and you ended up hurt anyway.”

Tears welled up, and I blinked them back. “You’re right,” I said quietly.

“Yes, I am.” She sighed. “You need to talk to him.”

I sank back into my chair. “We’ve talked it to death, Rose.”

“Well, then talk to its ghost. You can’t just pack it up and shut him down. Did you guys …”

I nodded, feeling sick at the thought of bringing it up to him again. You promised. “Last night. It was …” I blinked against the stinging in the corners of my eyes. “He’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“I still don’t see a problem here.” Her gaze was hard as she waited for an answer I didn’t have.

“I told you. I’m a mess. I’m hung up on a million stupid things, and it’s making me crazy. And my crazy is hurting him. I don’t know what to do, how to make it right. I mean, how do you rationalize something that’s irrational? I feel completely out of control.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing, Cam. You don’t always have to hang on to control. What happens when you let go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe you fly.”

“Maybe I fall.”

“Sure, but maybe you fly. Isn’t it worth the risk? You’re sabotaging yourself, and you’re doing it by the rules you set up to protect yourself.”

“Maybe.”

“You know,” she said, “I admire you for so much — your brains, your skills, your … I don’t know. Energy. But you’re not always right, and you’re not right about this.” She watched me for a second. “You need to talk to him, but this time you actually need to say something. You need to come clean all the way down to your toes, bare it all.”

Hope sprang in my chest at the thought of telling him, of letting it go. “How’d you get to be so smart?”

“Years of being stupid and learning from it. Will he be home tonight?”

“He’s leaving for Nebraska today.”

She shook her head. “I really think you should talk to him before he leaves.”

“Like, call him? I don’t know if we should do that over the phone.”

“Like, get out of here and go talk to him. You’re no use to me like this anyway. Nobody likes a sad bartender. Grumpy, maybe. But sad? Definitely not. Go home. Talk to him. Tell him why. Make it right before he leaves town for the weekend, or you’ll end up driving yourself crazy.”

“After last night …” I paused. “I promised him I’d let it go, Rose. How can I bring it up again?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think you can let it go until you tell him every fear you have, every hurt, all of it.”

“Neither do I.”

She sighed. “He’s right — he can only do so much. You’ve got to do the rest.” She sat up a little straighter and leaned on her desk. “All right, I have a new job for you today. First, go by Cake on the way home and get a cupcake. Get two, if the spirit moves you. Second, eat the damn cupcake and think about what you’re going to say. Third, go home and find a way to tell him everything.”

I looked away, staring at nothing in particular. “It’s so simple. I wish I’d told him before, but I just … I don’t know. I never talk about Will. I hate that it happened to me, and I’m ashamed of it, you know? It’s one of those things that you replay over and over again, the thing I can’t let go. My biggest regret. And to tell him about Kyle too? I don’t even know how he’s going to react, on top of the fact that I’m about to break my promise and try to talk to him about my doubts again.”

“But this is the last time. If you take him a cupcake too, it might make things easier for you. Just saying.”

I smiled, though it slipped. “I don’t feel right leaving you solo today.”

She raised a brow. “Would it make you feel better if I promise to call you if I need you?”

“Only if you mean it.”

“My definition of need is maybe different from yours, but I mean it. If I really need you, I’ll call you.”

I drew in a long breath and let it out. “Thanks, Rose.”

Her face was soft, and she stood, pulling me into a hug. “You can do this. I know you can.”

I found confidence, already thinking about how I’d tell him. Dread rolled through me, wondering if he’d be angry that I was still hung up on it, wondering what he’d say.

Just talk to him.

So I’d tell him about Kyle. About Will. I’d tell him about the rules, my hurt, as much as I didn’t want to, as much as it would hurt. And maybe with that admission, I could let it go. It was my last stand, and as I headed to pick up cupcakes, I hoped that it would be enough.

Tyler

I smiled down at my clothes, neatly stacked in piles on my bed next to my duffle bag, feeling happier than I had in a long, long time.

The memory of Cam in my arms was still fresh, the smell of her somehow all over me. I glanced down at her ring, the flash of silver on my pinkie, reminding me of her smile, of her promise. The feeling that the worst was behind us washed over me again, a sweet relief. My soul had had enough angst.

I was happy to move on, hand in hand with her, and I had the fleeting thought of forever.

I smiled wider, brushing the thought away playfully, hoping I was right as I packed my bag, stuffing the gifts for my sisters and mom between the stacks.

The thought of sleeping without Cam for the next few nights wasn’t appealing, and I downright loathed the fact that I was leaving so soon after last night. I replayed it in my mind, as I had been all morning, hitting all the high points. Her smile. Her laugh. Her body. Her words.

After all of that, after bearing my heart to her, it was undeniable. She had to know. She had to believe. And she promised we were moving on.

I heard the front door open, and my brow quirked when I glanced at the clock. I’d been minutes away from leaving, planning on swinging by the bar on my way to surprise her and say goodbye.

Cam appeared in my doorway, looking small, and I smiled, confused.

“Hey,” I said, hands stilling. “What are you doing home?”

She rolled one shoulder in a shrug, a smile on her face with a hint of uncertainty. “Rose gave me the day off.”

“Why?” I asked thickly, still not understanding what was going on.

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again.

Nerves pricked the back of my neck. “What’s wrong, Cam?”

Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth. “I’ve been thinking—”

“You think too much.” It was a quiet joke that wasn’t at all a joke. My heart ticked up a notch.

“I know. I just think we need to talk—”

“Cam,” I interrupted, my voice low. “You promised.”

She nodded. “I know I did, and I meant it.”

My hands were ice cold, my brow dropping. “But here you are, not even twelve hours later, wanting to talk?” Frustration rolled through me like a storm. “Twice you’ve tried to leave me. Twice in one week. If this makes the third, I can’t … I don’t …”

“If we could just talk about it—”

“I don’t know what else there is to say. I know I said I’d be there for you, that I’d have your back but I can’t do this alone. You’re out to protect yourself, but what about me? Do I still just have to keep getting hurt, over and over again? I’ve done everything I know to do to reassure you, Cam. Everything. But even after last night, even after …” I swallowed hard, forcing the emotion back down. “After everything, you still doubt me.”

Her eyes shone with tears. “It’s not that easy for me, Tyler. I’m scared, and this is how I really feel. I know it’s annoying, I know you don’t want to talk about it. But you can’t just kiss it away like you do because it won’t stay gone. We just need to talk—”

“No,” I shot, hands shaking. “No more talking. I can’t talk anymore, Cam. I can’t just keep hashing it out, over and over. I’ve done everything I can to convince you. Everything. And you still don’t believe me. I’ve got nothing left to give. You promised, Cam. You promised.”

Her brow dropped. “This isn’t fair, Tyler. I told you from the beginning that I was crazy. You know me, maybe better than anyone. How do you of all people not understand?”

“Fair?” The word was tight and low, full of my hurt. “After all of this, you say I’m not being fair?”

“Well, you’re not! You won’t even talk to me!”

“Because we’ve already fucking talked about it, and I’m done.”

Her face bent in pain, chin quivering. “I just wanted to explain myself. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Too late.” I took a breath and grabbed a stack of clothes, shoving them into my bag haphazardly.

“Tyler—”

“Stop.” My voice boomed, louder than I meant, and she jolted at the sound. I took a shuddering breath, clenching my fist, letting it go, willing myself to calm down. “I get it. You’re right. I can’t drag you into this. I can’t force you to care. I can’t make you let me in. This is on you.” I shoved another stack of clothes in, then my shaving kit, heart banging, palms sweating. “I can’t do this with you.”

Her breath caught. “Now? Or ever?”

“I don’t know. I’ve got to go.”

I zipped up my bag and picked it up, trying to breathe, but the air caught in my lungs like sandpaper when I saw her standing there, small and scared. My pulse raced in my ear, a thump and a whoosh, then another as I fumbled through my thoughts, watching her there in front of me, everything I ever wanted, everything I couldn’t have. I wanted to pick her up and hold her, tell her I needed her. But I’d already done that very thing. The only thing left to do was let her go. So I swallowed the words I wanted to say and did just that.

LOST

Cam

THE DOOR SLAMMED HARD ENOUGH to make me jump, snapping me out of the haze as I stood in the corner of Tyler’s room.

I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to think, only wanted to feel the hollow in my chest. He’d taken my heart out the door with him.

I made it across the few steps to his bed and sank onto it, staring at nothing. And then, the tears came — confused tears that burned my eyes and nose, tears that left me with sobs that tore out of my throat, unwanted, unbidden.

I was too late. I’d lost him.

He was right, about everything. I’d hurt him, and I’d only keep hurting him. I’d had it all, and I pushed him too far. I should have told him about everything long before, but I didn’t think it would matter so much. If I’d only realized it did. If only I’d talked to him about what mattered from the start.

If only.

He was right, but he was wrong. I was right, but I was wrong.

Nothing made any sense anymore.

It was a long while before my tears ran dry, and I lay curled on top of Tyler’s comforter, trying not to think about how it smelled like him. Trying not to think about what would happen when he came back. Would we actually talk? Or would he leave? Move out? And then, after that, would I ever see him again?

The thought ripped through me, tears I thought were dry springing up, fresh and new. I didn’t know how I could ever be without him. And as happy as he’d made me, I regretted doing it. Because now … now he was gone, maybe forever.

I sniffled and picked up my glasses, slipping them back onto my nose before I hauled myself out of his bed. I stood idly in the living room, not knowing what to even do with myself, finally deciding to lie on the couch. I grabbed a soft, furry throw blanket and lay down, curling up into a ball. I turned on a Warpaint album, letting the moody sound fill the room and my empty chest, not planning on moving. Maybe ever.

Every moment with Tyler played through my mind, memory after memory. I lay there for hours like that, listening to the album on repeat, lost in my thoughts. Sometimes tears would fall. Sometimes I would lie still and quiet, staring at nothing. Sometimes I would close my eyes and picture him walking through the door, telling me he’d never give up.

My stomach rumbled, and I rolled off the couch, wrapped in the blanket like a burrito, my legs stiff as I shuffled into the dark kitchen. I flicked on the light over the stove and saw the box of cupcakes, immediately certain that they were the best dinner I could possibly ask for.

Three gigantic cupcakes later, I was really glad I’d gotten half a dozen, barely noticing the crumbs down the front of me as I licked my fingers with a sigh, staring at the fridge across from me. It was covered with pictures — Tyler and me at football games, Tyler wearing a pink, ruffly apron, holding a pie, me dressed up at ComicCon. There were ticket stubs from games too, and the Nebraska football schedule, right next to the Iowa schedule. The rest of the space was filled with poetry magnets. A haiku Tyler wrote about beer.

I took a breath. I let it out. Then I did it again. It was all I could manage.

I knew I needed a distraction, but I could think of nothing that sounded appealing. Everywhere I looked, he was there — his shoes next to the couch, his jacket hanging on its peg on the wall. And when it wasn’t something of his, it was something that reminded me of him. The stack of books on the shelf under the coffee table — the books he’d rejected. Sitting on top of the table was The Hobbit, and I realized he must have left it by accident in his rush to leave.

I wanted to pick it up, but I couldn’t. As if touching it would summon even more memories of him.

I grabbed my speaker and shuffled into my room, closing the door. At least in there, everything was mine — the only thing he’d affected was my bed. As I climbed in, I could smell him again on my extra pillow, on my sheets, on my blanket. Everywhere. But after a while, I’d stop noticing it. It would stop hurting.

Or at least that’s what I hoped.

I clicked on the light and picked up my book, finding the words truer than ever, the sting of the loss through the women in Mists of Avalon even greater than my own, which brought me comfort, however small it was. And at some point, late in the night, I drifted off into fitful sleep.

KEEP BREATHING

Tyler

I STARED OUT THE WINDOW of the airplane with my headphones in, watching the earth come closer in increments, trying not to think about Cam.

It was impossible, of course — she’d been on my mind since I’d walked out the door. Since before that. Since ever.

The rejection I felt was absolute.

I thought back over our argument, feeling the pang of hurt deepen. I hated that it went down like it had. I hated that she still wasn’t sure. I  hated that I didn’t know how much more I could take.

She made a promise she couldn’t keep. I should never have asked it of her. Of course, I’d promised her my patience, and I hadn’t been able to give that to her in the end. But it was too much.

The metal ring around on my finger was warm, the same temperature as my skin, like it was a part of me — I twisted it over and over again as I had been for the last hour, feeing lost. Helpless.

I understood though why she needed control. Life was so much easier when there was something you could fix. Handle. But I knew from experience that the greatest, hardest lesson was that you can’t control anything but how you react. I knew I couldn’t control Cam, and I didn’t want to. But there was nothing I could do for us except walk away. No amount of talking could fix it. No amount of begging.

There wasn’t a single thing in our way except Cam. And Cam was immovable.

I thought grimly about what would come when I went home. Would we talk? Could I even listen? Could I bear any more? She said I was too much for her, but maybe it was the other way around. Maybe she was too much for me.

The thought of us sharing space, when all I wanted was her, was too much. No, I wouldn’t be able to do it. See her every day, the reminder of what I couldn’t have. Of what I had and lost due to no fault of my own.

Like I said. Helpless.

I felt the loss like a gaping hole in my chest.

By the time we touched down in Lincoln, the sun was setting, and when I turned my phone service back on, I held my breath, hoping to see a text or a call from Cam.

Nothing came.

I sighed and slipped my phone in my pocket after turning on my music, wanting solitude against the throng of people exiting the plane.

An hour later, I was in my rental car, heading to my parents’ house. Lincoln hadn’t changed much, the familiarity of the city where I’d spent all my life until a few years ago comforting. The fall air was crisp, the leaves all golds and yellows, the wind whipping them across the street in currents.

I pulled up to my parents’ gate and punched in the code, rolling up the window too keep the cold out as soon as I was finished. The driveway was long, circling in front of the sprawling colonial house where I’d grown up. I pulled up next to my dad’s truck, and before I had a chance to get out, my parents were walking out the front door, smiling.

I popped open my door and made my way around the car, smiling back.

“Tyler!” my mom called and reached for me. She was a slight thing — I looked almost nothing like her, save our eyes. When she pulled away, she cupped my cheeks. “It’s so good to see you, honey. Come on inside where it’s warm.”

I hitched my duffle bag on my shoulder as my dad stepped to me, hand outstretched. He was as tall as I was, which was always a little strange — I’d grown accustomed to being taller than everyone. His hair was dark like mine, with gray shocks at his temples. “Son. Glad you made it. How was your flight?”

I took it and gave it a shake. “Long. I forgot my book at home.”

He smirked. “Book, huh? Cam finally did it?”

I tried to smile. “Yeah.”

A gust of wind blew through us, and we hunched our shoulders against it.

Mom grabbed my arm and shooed us toward the door. “Let’s get inside, boys.”

The house was cozy and warm, old country music playing through the speakers they had installed through the house. We moved into the kitchen, where my oldest younger sister sat at the island bar. She lit up, hopping off her stool.

“Tyler! You finally got here.” She bounded over and hugged me.

I laughed, comforted by her, even if she didn’t know I needed it. “Hey, Meg. I figured you’d be at a homecoming party tonight.”

She shrugged. “I am in a little bit. Just wanted to see you first.”

A thunder of feet and a riot of giggles came down the stairs, and when my youngest two sisters rounded the corner into the great room, I bent down and opened my arms. Grace and Jamie filled them, and I picked them both up at once, easy to do even at sixteen and eighteen.

“Gah, I missed you girls.”

They giggled more, laying kisses on my cheeks. I set them down and looked over the three of them, smiling. They looked just like my mom, dark eyes and fair hair, little things compared to Dad and me.

“Man, I’m glad to see you girls. Jamie, what’s this boyfriend I hear about? Do I need to threaten him with his life?”

She rolled her eyes and slapped me in the arm. “God, Tyler.”

I laughed. “I know Jeremy’s older brother well enough. If they’re anything alike, I’ll let him live.”

“Thank goodness because he’s taking me to homecoming, and I already ordered his boutonnière.”

“Gracie, I heard about Oliver Winslow asking you to the dance and called his brother. You don’t mind if we chaperone you, do you?”

Grace was the shy one — the only shy one, I’d note. She blushed, her fair skin blotchy as she looked down at her shoes, but when she glanced back up at me, she smiled, her mouth full of braces. “Ugh, you’re so embarrassing.”

“I learned it from Dad.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe I know the kids asking out my little sisters. Doesn’t anybody leave this town?”

My dad chuckled and handed me a beer. “Sometimes, but they almost always come back.”

Jamie bounced. “What’d you bring us?”

Mom clucked at her. “He just got home, girls. Give him a minute to sit down.”

I set my bag down on the counter and unzipped it. “It’s all right, Mom.” I dug around and pulled out Meg’s first. She reached for it, excited, eyes pouring over the cover of the book. “Oh, my God. Is this …” She flipped it over again and opened it, reading the gold leaf inscription on the inside. “Marianne was generous, amiable, interesting: she was everything but prudent.”

“It’s illustrated,” I added.

“Sense and Sensibility is my favorite,” she breathed. “Cam?”

I nodded, smiling past the pain her name brought me.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you. Tell her I love it for me, will you?”

“Of course,” I said and dug through my bag for more. My fingers grazed bubble wrap, and I pulled out Jamie’s gift.

She took it with wide eyes, unfastening the tape and unwinding the wrapping to reveal a silver hand mirror. “Tyler, this is beautiful.”

“It’s an antique. Victorian, the lady at the shop said.”

Mom’s eyes were wide too as she leaned over. “Look at that detailing on the back. This is just exquisite.”

I smiled. “Glad you think so.” I handed her another bubble wrapped package.

“Oh, Tyler,” she said, laughing as she took it and opened it up to find a similar mirror, though hers was gilded, the scrollwork more intricate. She gaped and ran her fingers over it.

Grace nibbled on her lip, looking self-conscious.

“Don’t worry, Gracie. I didn’t forget you.” I dug around some more, looking for a small box, exclaiming an ah-ha! when I found it. I handed it over to her, and she took it tentatively.

She turned it over in her hands before opening it, gasping when she saw the gold necklace inside. It was simple, a small, dainty chain with a tiny heart hanging from it.

“Now you’ve always got a little piece of my heart,” I said, and she rushed me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

“You’re seriously the best brother in the whole world.”

I smiled down at her and hugged her back. “How would you know? You’ve only got one.”

She squeezed me a little tighter. “I just do.”

“All right, girls,” Mom said, gathering them up. “Come on and let’s to put that movie on. Give Tyler a rest — you’ll see him plenty this weekend.”

They passed around hugs and kisses before going upstairs, though Meg stayed where she was, drinking a beer with Dad and I at the island.

I zipped up my bag and set it on the floor before taking a seat next to her.

Dad leaned on the surface across from me. “How’s it going, son?”

I took a sip of my beer and shrugged. “Good. We survived Pharaoh, so that’s a win.”

He shook his head. “I’m glad it’s blowing over, but man. That kid. You won’t have any of that kind of trouble with Darryl.”

“No, I don’t suspect I will. He’s a good kid.”

“One of the best. He’s had agents all over him, which isn’t surprising. He’s one of the best running backs in college ball.”

“You think he’s still planning on signing with us?”

“I don’t doubt it for a moment, but you know how it is.”

“Wait until the ink’s dry,” I said with a smile.

He nodded. “Until then, it’s anybody’s guess. But he trusts me, and he trusts you and Jack and the agency. I’m glad you’ll have some time with him this weekend too.”

“Couldn’t miss homecoming, and I’m here on Jack, for Darryl. Everybody wins.”

“What else is going on? Wasn’t the charity dinner last night?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said and took a drink, not wanting to think about it.

“Did you take a date?” my nosey sister asked.

I gave her a look.

“What?” she asked innocently. “Can’t your little sister be worried about your dating life?”

I snorted. “No.”

“Well, now you’re being weird. Who’d you take? Please tell me you didn’t ask Jessica. She was the fakest kind of fake. Like a dessert that looks delicious, but you go to take a bite and realize it’s a wax display.”

I laughed. “That’s creepily accurate.”

She shrugged. “Lit major. One day when I’m a famous writer, you can talk all about how my metaphors brought none of the boys to the yard.”

I chuckled but still didn’t answer her.

Her eyes narrowed. “Seriously, why don’t you want to tell me?”

I sighed. “I took Cam.”

They both looked at me like I was crazy, and Mom gaped as she walked back in. “Did I hear that right? You took Cam on a date? As a friend?”

“Yeah, as a friend.” I took another sip.

Meg laughed. “You liar.”

I shook my head and swallowed. “Dammit, Meg. You just can’t give it to me, can you?”

“Nope. Are you guys dating?”

“No.”

“Lying again,” she sang.

“No, I’m not,” I said definitively. “We’re not dating. Anymore.”

Her smile fell. “What in the world happened?”

I leaned on the counter and inspected the label on my bottle. “I don’t really even know. I realized I had feelings for her and found she had feelings for me.” It was that simple and that complicated.

“How long did it last?” she asked as Mom and Dad listened on.

“Not long. Just a week or so. We got in a fight before I left for the airport.”

“Today?” Meg asked.

I nodded and knocked my drink back, emptying it. Dad moved to get me another.

“Well, what happened?”

“I don’t even know. We kissed and just sort of fell into a relationship, but she had a foot out the door the whole time. She’s scared of something, me I guess. I don’t know why, but she’s got excuse after excuse, and I’ve tried … I’ve tried so hard to convince her. I brought her to the water and practically drowned her in it, but I couldn’t make her drink.”

“As it goes,” Dad said.

“She doesn’t trust me. And after all the back and forth, I don’t trust her right now either. She promised me we were past it just last night, but today we were right back where we started, hashing it out all over again. But there’s nothing left to say.”

“Why doesn’t she trust you? Did you do something to betray it?” Meg asked.

“She says we’re too different and that she’s afraid I’m going to leave her once I figure it out.” I shook my head. “I didn’t do a single thing wrong. It’s just some idea that’s stuck in her head that she can’t get past. And now …” I sighed again. “She’s my roommate. Nothing will ever be the same between us. Can’t go backward. Can’t convince her of anything. So I’ve got to figure out what to do next.”

“Any chance of her coming around?”

“Who knows? But I can’t keep trying to drag myself through it because it hurts.” I took a sip of my drink, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. “How many ways can you say you want someone? How can you make them understand? She’s got me on some pedestal, has some idea of me that isn’t real. That almost hurts worse, to know she doesn’t know me well enough to believe what I say.”

Meg shook her head. “I don’t think it’s that.”

“Well, enlighten me, wise one.”

She shrugged. “Maybe she just doesn’t feel like she’s enough for you. That’s what it sounds like, at least. I don’t believe for a second that Cam doesn’t know your intentions, but she’s just got herself spooked.”

My brow furrowed.

“I’m saying it’s not you, it’s her. She’s suffering from pretty classic relationship anxiety, if I had to bet. I mean, unless she’s not into you. Do you think she’s not into you?”

I thought back over the last week, thought about the way she looked at me, the way she let herself go, as tentative as it was. “No, I think she very much wants to be with me.”

Meg nodded. “I’ve been there. I think every woman has been in some capacity.”

“I get that, Meg. But how far do I go? How much do I have to carry? I need her to be in it with me, to try. But she’s gone back and forth so many times in the last week, I feel like I have whiplash.”

She shook her head and sighed. “I don’t know. You’re the only one who can make that choice.” Her phone buzzed on the counter. “Crap, my ride is on its way. I’ve got to go finish getting ready.” She stood and hugged me, kissing me on the cheek, since I was sitting and at her level. “It’s all going to work out. We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

She ruffled my hair, and I angled to get away from her. “Missed you, bub.”

I smiled at the nickname — short for Bubba and much preferred. “You too, sis.”

“We’ll hang tomorrow night after the game. You’re coming out, right?”

I raised a brow. “Can I avoid it?”

She laughed. “Nope. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Mom smiled and sighed. “All my babies under the same roof. You don’t think you’ll miss it, but you do.”

Dad chuckled, and she patted his arm.

“I’ll leave you boys to catch up. Don’t stay up too late, all right?”

“No promises,” Dad said.

She tsked. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow, mister. Both of you do. Get some rest.” She gave me kiss and headed out.

“Night, Mom.”

Dad and I were left in the content silence, marked only by the Johnny Cash song playing overhead.

My mind wandered to Cam. Was she okay, or was she as torn up as I was? Part of me needed to know. The rest of me was wounded and didn’t want to talk to her at all. Not yet.

“You all right?”

I sighed. “Not really. It’s been a weird day.”

“Sounds like it. I’ve got to admit — I’m a little surprised to hear about Cam.”

“Why?”

“Don’t exactly know.” His brows furrowed as he thought about it. “Maybe in part because you’ve never dated anyone like her before.”

I huffed, exasperated. “That’s exactly why I wanted her. I’ve been dating in the wrong pool. You know, Cam says we’re too different, but look at me and Jess. She didn’t like football at all — we didn’t have a single thing in common. Or how about me and Gretchen? She went to college to find a husband, not a bachelor’s degree, and at the end of the day, she didn’t want me. Not as I am. She wanted what I stood for, some cardboard idea of a boyfriend. It’s the same story for every woman I’ve dated, even back to high school. They didn’t want me, but Cam does. Did. She’s real. She’s beautiful and perfect, even with her flaws.”

He nodded. “Well, I can’t really argue with that, can I?”

I shook my head. “I feel like I’ve been defending my feelings to everyone. To you. To Cam. To Kyle.”

He chuffed. “Kyle’s an idiot. Don’t defend yourself to a fool, son.”

My jaw flexed, my thoughts still rambling. “It’s so frustrating. I feel like no one understands or believes me. I don’t get everyone’s problem with Cam. She made me happier in a week than every woman I’ve dated combined, and yet somehow I’m still sticking up for myself. I feel like I’m in it all alone.”

His face softened, his eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry, Tyler. I’m not opposed, don’t get me wrong. I said I was surprised, but it’s a pleasant surprise, especially hearing you talk about her like this.”

I slumped in my seat. “I just want everyone to believe in us the way I do. Especially Cam.”

“We do. And I want to believe she’ll come around, if for nothing more than your happiness. I wish I could give you some advice, but it’s been damn near thirty years since I dated anyone besides your mom. All I can say is that you’ve got to keep on believing. Don’t give up on her.”

“What do I do, Dad?” The words were thin, defeated.

“Well, like you said. You can’t make her drink. So you’ve got to try to be patient. Give her time and space to sort through how she feels and what she wants. You’re at the finish line, but she’s struggling at the halfway mark, so go back and run with her. Cheer her on. Get her there.”

I nodded, heart aching.

“Tell me what Kyle did.”

The ache turned into an angry burn. “Nothing but piss me off. He’s so against the idea of me and Cam that he’s got nothing to say that I want to hear on the matter. I don’t understand why he cares, why he’s so invested in my love life.”

He sighed. “Kyle got caught up in the machine. He used to be a good kid, one of the best, but I can’t say I didn’t see this coming. He’s always been too concerned with what everybody thinks.” He took a sip of his beer. “I shouldn’t badmouth him after he just paid for our uniform redesign.”

I raised a brow.

“Yeah, I know. I was surprised too. He didn’t tell you?”

I shook my head.

“We’re unveiling them tomorrow — he’s coming to be recognized during halftime.”

I frowned at the thought that he’d be there, but Dad kept talking.

“Anyway, you know, the two of you were thick as thieves when you played together, and when you got hurt, he stepped up. But I don’t think he quite knew what to do with himself. He thought you’d always be on the level, and when you weren’t … well, I think this is his way of trying to bridge the gap. Turn you into a version of him so the two of you don’t feel so different. I suspect he misses you.”

“I miss him too, but the Kyle I miss doesn’t exist anymore. I don’t even know him now, and I refuse to be berated by him for who I choose to love.”

“And that’s fair. There’s no rule that says you have to.”

I took a sip of my beer. “I’m not looking forward to seeing him tomorrow. We got in a fight last week about Cam, and I haven’t talked to him since.”

“I suspect it won’t be pleasant. But maybe he’ll leave it alone and stay away.”

We looked at each other and shook our heads. “It’s a nice thought,” I added. “Maybe not impossible though. He was smart enough to leave us alone last night.”

“Well, that’s a good sign. You meeting with Darryl tomorrow?”

“After the game for a bit, yeah, and during the game we’ll see each other, since I’ll be on the field. We’re working out on Sunday still, right?”

He nodded, smirking. “It’ll be nice to whip you on the field again.”

I chuckled. “Just like old times.”

He watched me for a moment. “How’ve you been feeling?”

I knew what he meant without any specifics. “Fine, you know. The usual. I love and loathe football season. Easier to watch it on TV, anyway.”

“I’d like to say that gets easier, but I don’t know if that’s true. I can’t imagine the loss, even though I’ve tried a million times. The day you were injured, it changed all of our lives.”

Breathe in. Breathe out. “I know.”

His eyes were full of understanding and pain. “All we’ve ever wanted is your happiness, son.”

“I know that, too.”

He sighed and looked down at his hands. “I know you already know all this, but I’m proud of you for picking up and moving on. You’ve never buckled. You never gave up. You fought and smiled your way through the pain in a way I don’t know I could have done, if it had been me. And I’ve prayed it had been. I’d trade places with you in a second.”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“Are you happy, Tyler? That’s all I need to know.”

“I am, Dad. I’m happy. The past would have swallowed me up, if I’d let it, and I knew that. There’s no point in looking backward. No good can come of wishing for things we can’t have. All I can do is keep going, one foot in front of the other, toward the things I can have. Go after them with all the passion I put into everything I want.”

“I support that, fully and wholly. Is Cam a part of that philosophy?”

I spun my bottle around slowly, eyes on the label. “I’m hurt. She hurt me. But …” I pulled in a shaky breath and let it out.“I think I love her, Dad.” My heart stopped at the words, at the realization as it dawned on me.

He nodded. “I think you do too. And if you love her, you have to go after her.”

And he was right. Cam wanted me, that much I knew for certain. I wasn’t wishing for something I couldn’t have. I could have her, but it wouldn’t be easy.

It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be worth it.

BURN TOGETHER

Cam

I WOKE SLOWLY, SLIPPING OUT of the dream world a little more with every breath. The day was gray and dreary, my room darker than it should have been. Rain pattered against my window, the cold pressing in from outside.

I felt it all the way in my lonely bed.

I’d tossed and turned most of the night, waking to roll over and reach for him, but he was gone.

He’d be gone anyway, I told myself, which was true. But the loneliness wasn’t the same. This loneliness was hopeless and complete.

I lay there for a long time, listening to the rain, the occasional rumble of thunder somewhere off in the distance, wondering what he was doing, if he was thinking about me, missing me the way I missed him.

I felt like I’d made a horrible mistake, sabotaging us like I had. I wondered if it would be better for us in the long run. Maybe hurting him now would save him later. Maybe I’d save myself. Maybe it was the right thing for both of us.

But it felt wrong, so wrong that I didn’t even want to move — the pain was too acute.

I didn’t know what time it was when I crawled out of bed, wrapped in my comforter. I found the rest of the cupcakes in the kitchen and took the box to the couch with me before turning on the TV.

It was college game day, a day I usually spent with Tyler, and I flipped through the games, needing something familiar, hoping it would help. And for a while, it did.

The Iowa game was on — they were playing Nebraska, and I turned off the sound and turned on music, feeling like if I couldn’t hear the chatter of the sportscasters it would make it easier. So I put on Warpaint again and ate cupcakes in the dark apartment, the flicker of the screen nearly the only light to speak of.

My second cupcake was nearly gone, the sugary sweetness barely breaking through my senses, when I saw him.

Tyler stood on the sidelines in Nebraska gear, a red windbreaker and khakis, red cap flipped backward, nodding and smiling as he talked to a couple of players with a clipboard in his hand. He looked happy, strong, his shoulders broad, legs long. But it was his smile that gutted me.

It was only a second. Just a moment of his face, and I was lost again.

Tears welled as I scrambled for the remote and turned off the TV, sitting in the dark, sobbing quietly as the ghostly voice sang to me about what was gone forever.

Right and wrong. Yes and no. Joy and pain.

I’d lost him. I had him, and I lost him because I was afraid.

I wiped my tears, needing to get out of the house. So I clicked on the lamp, pulled myself off the couch and walked into my room. Pulled on rain boots and a coat. Grabbed my keys and walked out the door.

I flipped up the broad hood of my coat and stuffed my hands in my pockets, not sure where I was even going. If it hadn’t been dreary and rainy, I would have walked through the park, but I was glad for the rain, glad for the low hanging clouds that hid the tops of the buildings. I looked up at them, knowing that on the other side, the sun shone, unaffected, as if life really existed up there and not down here. Like I was underwater, and the surface was too far away to reach.

I headed for the subway, descending the stairs as I put in my earbuds and walked through the turnstile, all to the same album I’d been listening to on repeat. I always did that — listen to them over and over again until I was almost afraid to turn them off, afraid to lose the feeling the music gave me. This one in particular I’d played until I knew every single note, every beat, every word, and the whole of it made up the sum of me as I stepped into the metal train, heading for Wasted Words.

I didn’t have anywhere else to go. At least there was alcohol there. And Rose. I could really use some Rose.

The train rattled and clattered down the track, though I was lost in thought, even as I reached my stop and made my way out, ducking my head against the rain once it found me again. Before long, I was standing in front of the store, my home away from home, pulling the door open.

I flipped back my hood and took out my earbuds, stowing them in my pocket. Rose was behind the bar, and her brow rose as I approached.

She frowned as I took off my jacket and sat down, feeling flat and dead.

“Whiskey?”

“Whiskey.”

She nodded and poured me a drink, watching me inconspicuously. “Want to talk about it?”

I didn’t say anything.

She handed me the drink, and I took it, sipping it gratefully. “We got in a fight. A bad fight. And now he’s gone.”

“Oh, Cam,” she said softly.

I shook my head and shrugged. “It went so much worse than I thought it would. He said he didn’t want to talk about it again. That if I didn’t get it, there was nothing else to say.”

She frowned again, and this time her whole face joined in.

I shrugged again and took another drink, wincing against the bitter rye.

“So you didn’t talk to him about what’s holding you back?”

I shook my head. “He didn’t want to hear it. Our relationship was already so fragile, and I blew it up. I think it’s over, Rose.” My nose burned as tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

“Just like that? I mean, it’s not like he can avoid talking to you about it. You live together.”

“This whole time I was worried about me getting hurt, and I didn’t spend nearly enough time worrying about how he felt, what he wanted. I’ve been selfish. I’ve betrayed his trust by worrying he would betray mine.”

She didn’t have anything to say, just waited for me.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what else to say to him or you or anyone. He’s hurt because I took it too far.” I sighed. “Maybe it’s better this way.”

Rose’s lips were tight. “Don’t say that.”

“Why? He’s better off without me, I’ve been saying that this whole time. This way we can just move on.”

“You really think you’re going to just pick up and move on from Tyler?”

I shrugged, and she huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Come on, Cam. You’re smarter than this.”

I didn’t respond.

She fumed. “I’m not kidding. You guys breaking up isn’t better for either one of you.”

“How so? Because he was right. I was on the fence the whole time, and that’s not his fault. I’m too fucked up to be with him, that much is painfully clear.”

“I’m through being cute with you about this. Look at you. You’re fucking miserable. You think you’re doing anyone any favors with some bullshit self-sacrifice? You think you’re saving yourself? Or saving him? Because that’s absolute horse shit.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and banged out a text. “You’re talking to Patrick.”

I made a face. “Why?”

She gave me a pointed look. “Because he’s been an idiot before too, and you need to hear the truth from somebody as stupid as you are.” Her phone buzzed. “Good. He’s on his way. You just sit there and get a little drunk while we wait for the cavalry.”

“I don’t need a talking-to. I’m not a child, Rose.”

“Really?” she said, hands on her hips and brows high. “Because you sure are acting like one. Your dream guy is all about you, and you pushed him away because you think he’s better than you. That’s literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever fucking heard in my life. You speak like a thousand languages and have an IQ that puts you somewhere in the borderline genius category of humanity, and yet here you are, giving up. You shot yourself in the foot because you’re afraid.”

“I know I did, but that’s just how I feel, Rose. Like I don’t fit in. I don’t always know my place around him, not like here. Not like over there.” I motioned to the comic side of the store. “Why do you think I worked at a comic store all that time? Sure, I could have gotten a ‘real’ job pushing papers and filing reports and who even knows what, but I don’t fit in there either. I want to feel like I belong, just like anybody. So I worked at the comic shop because I didn’t feel weird or different. I could be me, and that was enough.” The words left me too quickly, too honestly, with my heart banging and cheeks flushed.

Her face softened. “I know, Cam. I know. But you’re enough. The raw version of Cam is who we all love. We don’t want you to be different than that. And I get you feeling out of place, I really do. But just because you put on lipstick and a dress doesn’t mean you’re not who you are.” She threw a coaster at me that said, Comparison is the thief of joy - Theodore Roosevelt. “Why do you compare yourself to anyone else? To strangers, to what you think Tyler wants? Why can’t you just accept who you are and who he is and let that be enough?”

My chin flexed, nose burning as I swallowed. “I don’t know, Rose.”

Rose’s eyes darted behind me, lighting up. I looked back to see Patrick walking in, shaking the rain off his jacket with tattooed fingers as he wiped his boots on the mats. The way they smiled at each other was enough to make my heart flutter for them. I only wished I had someone to look at me that way.

Except you did, and you lost him.

Patrick walked up to the bar and greeted Rose — she leaned over the bar to give him a kiss — and he turned to me, smiling as he sat.

He leaned on the bar. “Rose wanted me to come talk some sense into you.”

I snorted and took a sip of my drink.

“Do you need sense talked into you or is she just being pushy?”

“Hey,” she said, mock pouting as she poured him a drink too.

I shrugged. “Maybe both.”

He nodded and took a drink once she handed it over. “So, you and Tyler got in a fight?”

“Yeah. I started to talk and then … then he just walked out.” I drained my drink and passed it to Rose for a refill, which she provided.

“Does he make you happy?” Patrick’s blue eyes were intense, like he could see right through me.

I blinked, brow quirking at the unexpected question. “Of course he does. He’s the best person I know.”

“And you make him happy.”

I took a sip, slumping as I leaned on the bar. “I think I did, for a minute at least.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “You know, for a long time after I broke up with Rose, I just let her be angry. I let her hate me, thinking I deserved it for leaving her in the first place, and by the time I realized there was a chance for us, it was almost too late. In fact, for a while there, I thought it was too late. But it’s never too late. You’ve got to go after what you want, Cam. If you’ve found love, if you need him and he needs you, then there’s no question. You have to try, not run away because you’re afraid of what it might be, or because you’re afraid of losing him. Don’t make my mistake.”

My eyes welled with tears again. Rose looked satisfied. I, however, felt worse. “So what do I do?”

“Apologize,” Rose said. “Let go of all the reasons why you can’t and focus on why you can. Stop fighting it and just let go. Tyler will take care of your heart. He’d never hurt you. You know that.”

I nodded and sniffed, biting my lip so I wouldn’t cry.

“Feel better?”

“I need a plan. A way to say I’m sorry that doesn’t involve too much talking.”

“Nude apologies are the best for that.” She smiled. “Now drink some more. Did you get cupcakes like I told you?”

I chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Good. That should help. Just try to keep it together until he gets back. Feel all your sad mopey feelings and remember how much you want him. You could always try calling him.”

I shook my head. “He’s so busy this weekend. It’s homecoming and he’s courting a player.”

“Well, he’ll be home Monday, right?”

I nodded again.

“Come in and work tomorrow, if you need something to keep your hands busy. I have a crate of books in the stock room that need to be labeled and shelved,” she joked.

I rolled my eyes. “Sounds like a real party.”

She shrugged, smiling.

I finished my drink, letting it all soak in as Rose and Patrick talked. I had to go after what I wanted, fearlessly, and for the first time, I thought I might be able to.

I filled with tentative hope.

After a little while, I said my goodbyes and thank yous, aching for solitude again. The rain had subsided, though it still drizzled, and I popped my hood again, stuffing my earbuds in, the music crooning in my ears a little too sad all of a sudden . I switched it to my walking music, the playlist full of happier songs, with driving beats that held purpose, and every step, I found, held a little purpose too.

They were right, I thought. Caring about each other had to be enough. I did trust Tyler. He’d never hurt me on purpose. It was the truth I’d been fighting all along, what he’d been painstakingly trying to convince me of.

Being with Tyler had kicked up the dust of my past, bringing the pain of what happened with Will back into my heart when I thought it had been buried. All these years when I thought I’d been fine, strong and protected by rules that had become a cage, but I hadn’t really dealt with it at all. It had always been in the back of my mind, just waiting for the moment it could spring out and ruin something brilliant for me, which it had.

But the truth was simple. The truth was that I was exactly who I was, and that was enough for Tyler, and it was enough for me. The truth was that love had no rules. There was no right or wrong, just as Tyler had said. There was just him and me.

So my apology to Tyler would begin with that admission.

I didn’t want to lose Tyler, but I had. I lost him simply because I didn’t want to lose him.

I laughed out loud on the train, and a few people turned to give me dirty looks, but I didn’t care. Not now that I could see the truth, the path out of the fog and back to his shores.

By the time I reached the apartment, I was cold and wet, but my mind rolled over my thoughts like sweet wine. I was warm from the whiskey, fanning the flame of the flicker of hope in my chest.

I hung my jacket on its peg and kicked off my boots, changed my clothes and settled into the couch with my book, thinking about all the ways I’d apologize to Tyler, all the ways I’d make it right, feeling like it would be a million years until I had the chance. My eyes found my old, battered copy of The Hobbit, and I picked it up. Later, I wouldn’t be able to tell you why, though at the time it called to me.

I opened to the page where he’d left off, marked by the ticket to the Giants game.

To say the book was damaged was putting it mildly — the corners were curled, the pages yellowed and dog-eared, passages highlighted over the years, noted in the margins with my thoughts. But on the page Tyler had stopped on, he’d marked one of my highlighted passages.

If this is to end in fire, then we should all burn together.

The note next to it in the margin simply said This, Cam.

My heart skittered in my chest, breath shuddering.

We should burn together.

And I knew then without a doubt that I wanted to burn with him. That if it were to end, we would go together, into the fire.

The shelves didn’t matter. Kyle didn’t matter. And those truths found their way deep into my heart, setting me free.

My tears hit the book in my lap with a small splat that wrinkled the page, and I closed it, clutched it to my chest as I sank back into the couch and cried. But my tears weren’t sad anymore. They weren’t full of longing. They were full of hope.

TRUE COLORS

Tyler

HALFTIME HAD JUST ENDED, NEBRASKA’S band marching off the field to the thundering roar of the crowd.

It had been a long break, full of announcements and awards, the presentation of the homecoming court, and of course Kyle’s recognition for the team’s new uniforms. He’d walked up the podium, looking like a hero as he waved to the crowd, sporting one of the new jerseys himself.

I dropped my eyes to the playlists in my clipboard as I stood next to Darryl, the team amped up after halftime. I pointed to one of the formations, and he looked over my shoulder. “You’re gonna want to watch this guy.” I tapped on the X that represented a defensive end. “Campbell is fast and smart. He’s gonna be on you worse in the second half than the first.”

Darryl nodded. “He’s already been all over me.”

“They’ve got a fourth-quarter team this year — the farther behind they are, the harder they play, and they’re losing. So don’t get comfortable.”

He bounced, his dilated eyes on the field. “All right.”

I knew where his head was, full of adrenaline and drive and fury, all coiled up and contained in him, but he was ready to spring. The whistle blew, and special teams took the field for kickoff.

Kyle hadn’t headed back into the stands — I’d seen him moving through the players and the coaches, shaking hands and talking. I kept my eyes down, willing him to keep walking when he approached. And empty wish, I knew.

“Hey, Knight.”

I glanced up at him — he looked a little cowed, not nearly as cocky as he generally did, which was especially strange since he’d just been recognized publicly for his generosity to a stadium of people.

It was like I was in the Twilight Zone.

“Hey,” I said, and looked down again, flipping the page back, looking for nothing.

“Still pissed at me?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking pissed at you, Kyle.” I flipped another page back with a snap.

“Listen, I’m sorry. You didn’t give me a chance to apologize, and you didn’t look interested in talking to me at the party. I talked to Cam for a bit though.”

I turned to him, eyes narrowed. “She didn’t tell me that.”

He smirked. My fist clenched.

“What’d you say to her?”

“Nothing. I bought your drinks and we chatted in line. She looked good, man. I get why you decided to hook up with her, even if that’s all it is.”

Drinks … it was after she’d gotten drinks that I’d lost her to her thoughts for the night. “Don’t you fucking talk about how she looked. You don’t get to look at her. What did you say to her?”

He put his hands in his pockets and puffed out his chest. “She almost tripped and fell, and I caught her. She’s a tiny little thing.”

The thought of his hands on her nearly threw me into a rage. I didn’t know what had gotten into me, but my hands shook as I glared at him, wanting nothing more than to get my hands around his neck. I dropped the clipboard to my side, clutching it with sweating palms. “Kyle,” I warned.

“I just told her the truth. She doesn’t belong with you, man. You know that.”

My teeth ground together so hard they ached. “Who I’m with is none of your fucking business. Why the fuck do you care?”

A shadow passed over his face. “Because you haven’t been you since you moved in with her.”

“You haven’t been you since we left this field.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I don’t get it, bro. You dropped off the planet, quit hanging out with me or any of the guys, quit dating, for the most part. You couldn’t hang on to Jess, so, what? You end up slumming it with Cam? She’s pathetic.”

I snapped, roaring as I lunged for him, cocking my fist back and letting it go to hook him in the jaw. The players and staff around us grabbed me, but I shook them off and planted my feet, chest heaving and fist aching.

Kyle laughed and rubbed his jaw, rolling it to assess the damage.

“She’s all I’ve ever wanted, you son of a bitch,” I said through my teeth, “and you’re part of the reason she’s not mine.”

“Good riddance.”

My nostrils flared, fist clenching again, the pain forgotten for a moment as I used all of my power to keep myself still. This wasn’t the place. “Stay away from her. Stay away from me.”

“You don’t mean that.” He smirked.

“I mean it more than I’ve ever meant anything in my life. Now get the fuck out of here, or I swear to God I’ll—”

“What? Knock out an NFL player, an alumnus, on camera? The guy who just paid for new uniforms for the entire team?” He laughed, the sound dry and cold. “Who the fuck are you to threaten me? You’re nobody, Knight. You could have been somebody, but look at you now. Washed up, wishing for the glory days, standing on the sidelines while I play. While I make money, get the girls.”

The other players standing near us turned to face him, their jaws set, a wall of us standing against him.

“I already had the girl. That was all I really needed.”

He was flanked by players, including Darryl, who said, “I think you should leave.”

Kyle stepped up to him, bowing out his chest. “Fuck you, you little punk.”

Darryl stood his ground, and Kyle sneered.

“You think you know? This isn’t shit.” He motioned to the field. “This is nothing. It’s a stepping stone to get to the pros,” he met my eyes, “because if you don’t hit pro, you’re nobody.”

I didn’t realize my dad had stepped up to the fray. “What the fuck is going on here? Churchill, get the fuck out of here before I have you thrown out.”

Kyle met my dad’s eyes with rage burning behind them. “Sure, Coach.” And with that, he turned to go.

Dad turned to us, jaw set. “Quit fucking around, everybody. We’ve got a game to play, for chrissake.” Everyone dispersed quickly, and when he looked at me, his face was hard, but his eyes were soft. He nodded at me, and I nodded back.

The back half of the game was a blur, part of my mind on the game, but in every spare second between plays I sifted through what had happened. Cam, poor Cam. Who knew what he’d said, really. It couldn’t have been good, probably worse than what he’d even told me. And she believed him. He’d hit her right where it hurt, knowing what would happen, or at least hoping for what happened. And she didn’t tell me.

But of course she didn’t.

I had to call her, message her. Talk to her. It didn’t change anything, but it changed everything. Because before that, I felt her, knew she was happy and good and ready to be with me. I knew that what he said affected her. And that night, I convinced her again to stay. And the next day, when she tried to talk to me like I’d wanted, I walked away.

We won the game, and I followed the team into the locker room, listened to my dad give a speech to the team. I waited in the wings while he talked to the press, the first moment I’d had to myself, and I pulled out my phone, firing off a text to Cam. I couldn’t wait a minute longer.

Need to talk. You around?

I held my breath, ran a hand over my mouth as I stared at my phone. The bubbles bounced, and my breath stayed still.

Can’t talk. Sorry.

My heart sank. Let me know when you have time.

She didn’t answer. She didn’t even start to type — I knew because I stared at the screen through the junket, hoping.

Over an hour later, we pulled out of the stadium in Dad’s car, listening to Willie Nelson croon about blue eyes while I leaned on the door, eyes beyond the window and thoughts a thousand miles away, with Cam.

“What happened with Churchill?” he asked, breaking the silence between us. “A couple of people asked me, but you couldn’t really see what happened. Looked like you popped him.”

“I did.”

“What’d he do?”

“Insulted Cam. Insulted me. I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t cause any problems for you, Dad.”

He chuckled. “You didn’t. Players get in fights enough on the sidelines and nobody notices, though it doesn’t usually resort to blows. Neither of you are on the team — I’m sure if he complains I’ll get a talking-to, but I wouldn’t worry about that.”

My fist still ached, and I opened and closed it, glad for the pain. Glad I’d gotten at least one hit on him when he deserved so much more.

“He got in her head, Dad. He told her she didn’t belong with me. He wanted to run her off, and he did. I thought it was just her not being able to decide what to do, but it was Kyle.”

He gripped the wheel. “Well, then I’d say he deserved more than one hit.”

I smiled. “I just thought the same thing. I could have beat the shit out of him. I only stopped because of where we were.”

He shook his head. “I’m not gonna lie. I kinda wish you had.”

“Me too.”

“What does this mean for you and Cam?”

I sighed. “I don’t know. I texted her as soon as I could but she won’t talk to me.”

He nodded, eyes on the road. “I hope she comes around, son.”

“Me too,” was all I could say as we pulled onto the highway, and I checked my phone once again only to be disappointed.

LIMBO

Tyler

I WOKE IN MY OLD bed, in my old room, reaching for my phone. Not to check the time.

But my heart sank once I unlocked it. She hadn’t messaged me or called.

I sighed and closed my eyes, settling back into the bed, though I knew I wouldn’t sleep again. The phone was still in my hand, and I squeezed it, thinking about messaging her again.

I replayed our fight, like I had a hundred times. I’d shut her down not knowing Kyle had tried to interfere, but that knowledge changed things, and I wanted to talk to her about it. I wanted to hear what happened from her, wanted to tell her Kyle was wrong.

But she hadn’t messaged me, didn’t want to talk to me. I couldn’t be sure what the silence meant, and if I hadn’t had work to do, I would have left that day. Because I couldn’t stand it, the not knowing. The waiting. I needed to kiss her again and tell her that I loved her, even if it was for the last time.

I let out a breath, though it did little to vent the pressure in my chest. The room was chilly when I flipped back the blankets, and I rushed to dress, pulling on track pants and an Under Armour long-sleeved shirt that fit me like second skin.

Downstairs, my family bustled around — Dad making breakfast, Mom sitting at the bar drinking coffee with Meg, Jamie and Grace sitting at the breakfast table, whispering and giggling. They looked up when I entered.

Meg smirked at me. “Morning, slugger.”

I smirked back.

“How’s your hand?”

I held it up — it was a little swollen, especially around my knuckles, which were raw, but it was fine. I wiggled my fingers. “In working order.” I made my way to the coffee pot and poured myself a cup. “Dad tell you?”

“I only told your mom,” Dad called over his shoulder.

“I never did like Kyle,” Mom said and took a sip.

I laughed. “Liar.”

“Well, fine, but I haven’t liked him in a long time.”

“Me neither.”

“Everybody was talking about it last night,” Meg said. “I wish you’d come out.”

“I don’t, not after that.” I sighed. “I was hoping nobody was watching.”

She rolled her eyes. “Everybody in Nebraska was watching Kyle Churchill. I thought you guys were friends?”

“So did I.” I took a seat next to my mom. “He talked about Cam in a way I didn’t like, and it wasn’t the first time. And I found out he said some stuff to her that hurt her, which hurts me, and hurt us. So, yeah. I decked Kyle Churchill on the sidelines of the homecoming game. I feel like I had plenty of reasons.”

“I agree,” Meg said. “You talk to Cam?”

I shook my head and took a sip of my coffee to avoid speaking.

Dad walked up with plates and slid them over to Mom and Meg first. “She’ll come around, Tyler.”

I nodded slowly as he went back for another set of plates. “How was the party, Meg?”

She shrugged. “Same old. If you’d asked me when I was a freshman if I’d ever get tired of parties, I’d have laughed at you and said you were crazy. But now that I’m old enough to drink, the magic’s gone.” She popped a piece of bacon in her mouth.

Mom gave her a look.

“What?” she asked innocently. “It’s not like you didn’t do the same. It’s basically a cardinal rule of attending college.”

She rolled her eyes and took a bite of her eggs. “What are you boys doing today?”

Dad had already given Grace and Jamie their plates and was heading over with ours. “We’ve got a workout planned with Darryl at the stadium.”

I frowned as I took my plate. “Not the gym?”

“Nah,” he said as he took a seat next to me. “I’ve got something special planned.”

“That’s never good.”

He smirked. “Oh, it’ll be good, but you’re bound to hate me when it’s over.”

I groaned.

“This is about as active as I plan on being,” Meg said and went for another slice of bacon. “I’m exhausted. I’m planning on sleeping and reading the book you brought me.”

I shook my head. “Aren’t you ever going to move out?”

She looked at me like I was crazy. “Why would I move out? Bust my butt to work and finish school my senior year just so I can pay bills?” She snorted. “No, thanks. Pass. Hard pass. Plus, who will cook me breakfast on Sundays?” She smiled at Dad.

He smiled back wryly. “Sunday breakfast will be here whether you live here or not, so feel free to move out whenever you want, honey, and you just drop in to see me if you’re looking for pancakes.”

I laughed.

Mom looked at her watch and sat up a little straighter. “Oh, shoot.” She shoveled a bite of eggs in her mouth and pushed away from the table. “I’ve got to get going.”

I raised a brow. “At nine in the morning on a Sunday?”

She flushed a little. “I’ve got a thing.”

“A thing?”

“A thing,” she said pointedly.

“Well, all right, I guess. Don’t let us stop you from your mysterious thing. I’ll try not to be hurt that my only mother doesn’t want to eat breakfast with me.”

She chuckled and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?” She and Dad shared a look. “Have fun working out. Tell Darryl I said hello.”

“We will,” Dad said, and Mom left.

Jamie and Grace giggled from the table again, and I caught Meg making the throat-cut motion with her finger. She grinned at me when she saw me looking.

“What?” she asked chastely.

I narrowed my eyes. “You guys are acting squirrely.”

She rolled hers. “Oh, don’t be dramatic, Tyler.”

I looked at Dad, who shrugged, so I did the same and tucked into my breakfast, wondering what had gotten into everybody.

A couple of hours later, we pulled up to the stadium, mercifully. I had no idea why Dad ran all over creation before heading to campus — we drove to the hardware store and walked through the lumber for twenty minutes, then to Target where we picked out a Halloween card for my grandparents, and finally to the sporting goods store, which was the only thing that made any sense. His phone kept going off, and once someone called, but his end of the conversation was only one-word sentences.

So, by the time we got to the stadium, I was suspicious.

“Took us long enough,” I shot as I climbed out.

He frowned as he closed his door. “Don’t gimme that. Your mom had a list of stuff she needed me to pick up while she did her things this morning.”

“Right. Things. You guys are being weird.”

He waved his hands, mocking me. “Sorry we’re not all big-city fancy pants hot-shots with places to go in a big hurry. Anyway, Darryl just got here, he was running late.”

“Well, you could have just said that.”

He shrugged.

I followed him up to the gates, then into the stadium, thinking about all the ways he was about to kill me as we headed into the bleachers. But when we stepped out of the tunnel and I looked in front of me, I slowed to a stop.

The Nebraska State band was lined up on the field, no less impressive for being in their street clothes, and when they saw us, the drum majors blew their whistles and the band began to move.

“Bust a Move,” if I were being technical.

They danced as they walked across the field in formation, the drum line banging, twirling their sticks in succession. I laughed, the sound drowned by the epic volume of the band echoing off the empty stands, so shocked that I didn’t see Cam until a little bit into the song.

I gaped, not believing my eyes.

She stood at the bottom of the bleachers, just off the field in front of me, smiling, blushing, glowing as she danced. And did she dance.

She moved with abandon, hands in the air, hips moving in time to the beat, shuffling down the bench. She Cabbage Patched and MC Hammered, stopping to Butterfly, her tongue slipping out as she wiggled and rolled. And in between moves, she danced her way up toward me and I stood there laughing, dumbfounded, unable to grasp what in the world was happening.

Dad was laughing his ass off next to me, my mom and Darryl too. I looked up into the stands and saw half the team, all of them dancing and rapping the words. And on the chorus, as Cam approached, she sang the words, telling me if I wanted it, I got it, pointing at me, turning to wiggle her ass. I smiled, mouth a little open, shaking my head as the band played, loud and fierce and she danced.

She’d done this. All of it. For me.

When the band hit the breakdown and the drumline went crazy, they literally all started dancing — all three hundred of them broke it down just when Young MC told them to, and so did Cam.

I’d never seen anything so amazing in my life as Cam Emerson dancing on those bleachers.

When the song was over, the band cheered, whooping and hollering as Cam hopped down, bounding over to me. The drum majors blew their whistles again, and they gathered together, flipping their sheet music before starting the Billie Holiday song we’d danced to at the party.

She looked up at me, her small face open to me, cheeks flushed, dark eyes wide and full of fear and regret and hope. When she slipped her hands in mine, I knew exactly what she would say and exactly what I would say, and I only wanted to fast forward to the moment when I could kiss her. Because this was it. She was it.

Her fingers twisted in mine, her eyes searching my face. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, did you know that?”

I cupped her cheek, emotion burning in my throat.

“But I set the whole thing on fire, and all because I was afraid. If I’d stopped worrying long enough to look, I would have realized how wrong I was. In your arms, I’ve never felt so safe. If this is to end in fire, then we should all burn together. I understand now. You were with me, always, and I’m with you to the end, if you’ll have me. I want to burn together. I want to burn with you.” She took a breath, brown eyes begging, sparkling. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it before. I’m sorry I let you down. Will you forgive me?”

I bent down and picked her up by her waist, breathing her in, feeling whole again. “I’ll always forgive you. Always,” I said, my voice tight, my heart thumping. “I love you.”

Her lip quivered as she smiled up at me, a tear falling when she closed her eyes, and then she kissed me, and I knew she loved me too.

WHITE KNIGHT

Cam

I SWORE TO MYSELF THAT I wouldn’t cry, but there I was, in Tyler’s arms as the band played “Crazy He Calls Me,” tears rolling down my cheeks. He pulled me in circles, dancing with everyone watching, like no one was watching. And I didn’t care. It was one of the most perfect moments of my life.

When the song ended, the crowd cheered, and he kissed me, closing the circle, opening the door, and I stepped through it. Like we’d walked through each other, exchanging hearts in the process. I hoped it would last. But if it didn’t, I would love him for every minute that I could and be happy for what I had.

Tyler smiled down at me, and I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I can’t believe you did this.”

I smiled back. “Really?”

He chuckled. “Okay, I can, but how did you pull it off?”

“I had help. A lot of help, really.” My smile pulled up on one side. “I called your dad.”

He looked surprised, his brows pinching together. “How did you even get his number?”

“The emergency folder.”

A laugh belted out of him. “I forgot about that. The one you had us make because you worried I’d die and you wouldn’t have a way to tell my parents?”

“The very one,” I said. “I told him my idea, and he said he’d make it happen, so really we should be thanking him.”

Tyler looked over at his dad, who shrugged. “Your mom helped too.”

He glanced at his mom. “Your thing?”

She leaned into his dad, looking pleased with herself. “Picking Cam up from the airport.”

“And the band?” he asked.

His dad smirked, wrapping an arm around his mom. “I’ve been friends with Randall for the better part of twenty years. He didn’t hesitate to gather up the band and pass out sheet music this morning. Except ‘Bust A Move’ — that one they already knew.”

Tyler laughed. “What are the odds?”

“Apparently pretty good in the marching band world. Crowd favorite, and all. But it was Cam’s idea, all of it. I just made some phone calls. After talking to you, Tyler, there was no way I couldn’t help. I knew she’d come around, and you needed to know how she felt. I’m just glad I could help.”

“Me too.” Tyler shook his head and looked down at me in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“I’m here,” I said, leaning into him, relieved and elated. “You deserved something big after what I put you through.”

“Well, you provided.” He tightened his arms, bringing me closer. “I missed you. When you didn’t answer my text, I thought …”

“I know. I’m sorry. I really was busy. Packing.”

He chuckled.

“I thought about messaging you this morning, but my flight left at like six in the morning and I wanted to die. Plus, you were sleeping.”

“I don’t even care now. Not when you’re here.”

I smiled up at him. “What do you want to do now?”

“Nothing I can do in a football stadium or with my dad present, that’s for sure.”

I laughed.

He turned to his dad. “We working out?”

“Not unless you really want to.”

Darryl walked up.

“What about spending the day hanging, Darryl?”

Darry laughed and waved a hand. “Man, don’t be crazy. I’m signing with you — I’m not even entertaining any other offers. You’re the most honest agent I’ve talked to, and Coach is the best man I’ve ever played under. It’s a done deal. You go get your girl.”

Tyler smiled. “Seems she came to get me. Who would have thought? She was running from me the whole time.”

“Not anymore. I’m sorry I’m crazy.”

“I told you. I like your crazy.” He bent down and picked me up, and I wound my arms around his neck, burying my face in his solid shoulder. “I want to get you alone, Cam.”

“Take me anywhere, Tyler,” I whispered. “I’ll follow you.”

And his arms flexed, bringing our hearts closer together than I ever knew they could be.

We left the stadium after thanking the band and chatting with everyone, heading back to his parents’ house with his dad. He sat in the back seat with me, holding my hand, his arm around me like I might disappear if he let me go. But I wasn’t going anywhere. Not this time.

When we pulled up to his house, I almost shit myself — it was a legit mansion, a sprawling, beautiful house with a circular driveway. Not like I didn’t figure they’d be rich, but somehow I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.

His sisters and mom were all sitting around in the kitchen, waiting for us. They smiled and hopped up, rushing us for hugs and congratulations in the foyer.

I felt like I was caught in a tornado of rainbows.

“Come on in, Cam,” his mom said. “You hungry? I just made chicken salad for sandwiches.”

“Starving.”

Tyler trailed a hand down my arm. “Let me go change, then maybe we can take a walk?”

I nodded, smiling, sensing he wanted to kiss me, but he didn’t. I didn’t take it personally in the slightest — I knew I’d have all the kisses I wanted soon enough.

He made for the stairs in the gigantic foyer, and I followed everyone into the kitchen to sit at the bar. Meg saddled up next to me, smiling.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep all that a secret from Tyler?”

I laughed. “How did you guys find out?”

Meg chuckled. “There’s no such thing as a covert op in this house. Jamie is the eavesdropper of the family. She heard Mom and Dad plotting last night and told Grace, and the two of them bombarded me at seven this morning. They’re lucky I had the good sense not to get tanked last night.” She scowled dramatically and held up a fist to her sisters, who giggled.

I looked around at the happy family, all turned to look at me with smiles on their faces, and was overcome with emotion. “Thank you so much, Mr. and Mrs. Knight. I probably could have just waited until he came home, but I hurt him, and I just … I wanted to make it up to him, and I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

Mr. Knight laughed. “You don’t have to thank us. We’re happy to help, and anyway, that was more fun than I’ve had in a long time.”

Meg sighed. “I wish I could have seen it.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “Darryl recorded it with my phone. Here.” I handed it over, and the girls all huddled around to watch. Funny that it was only a couple of minutes long. That a couple of minutes could take me from despair to elation.

They laughed when the band broke it down, and I rolled and thrust my hips in time with my arms and shoulders. I might have watched a lot of rap videos from the 90s to prepare. There also may have been some practice living room pajama dancing to Kid ’n Play.

No one could say I wasn’t prepared.

I thought over the moment. Wondered what would have happened if he’d said no, if he’d been too hurt to forgive me. A shock of fear burst through me, wondering if he’d only said he forgave me because I’d put him on the spot.

Have faith. Burn together.

My fears disappeared with my breath the moment he entered the room, T-shirt stretched across his chest, hands in his jeans pockets, smiling at me like I was the only person in the room, in the world.

He walked over and stopped behind me. The girls were watching the video again, and he leaned in to look too, his face soft. When it ended, Meg groaned and handed me my phone.

“God, you guys are the cutest thing in the whole world.”

Tyler’s mom set plates in front of all of us with chicken salad sandwiches, complete with chips and a pickle.

He was close enough that I leaned against his torso like he was a chair.

“Hey,” he said, bending down a little. “Wanna have a picnic?”

I craned my neck to look up at him, smiling. “Sure.”

He kissed the top of my head and disappeared for a second, appearing again with a hoodie on and a Mexican blanket folded under his arms. We picked up our plates and headed out the back door to the smiles and approval of his family.

The back yard wasn’t even a yard — it was acreage with no visible fences, bearing a huge garden in the middle of it and a deck in the center. A pagoda stood there with hanging swings and chairs. I thought we’d head that way, but I followed him off the path and toward one of the big trees, an oak, I thought. When we reached it, he handed me his plate and spread out the blanket on the orange and gold leaves, and we sat, alone for the first time since we’d seen each other.

I didn’t even want to eat anymore. I just wanted to curl up in him and lie there forever.

He seemed to feel the same way, taking our plates, setting them out of the way so he could scoot close to me. And we lay down, our eyes peering up into the branches of the tree, deep reds and oranges, dotted by blue sky.

His arm was around me, holding me into his side, his bicep under my head like a pillow. “I think they like you.”

I chuckled. “I hope they do. They went so far out of their way to help me.”

“I’m not surprised. They know how I feel about you.” He was quiet for a moment. “What happened when I left?” he asked softly.

I pulled in a breath and let it out. “I cried. A lot.”

His arm tightened, and he kissed my hair.

“I ate cupcakes. That helped a little. Then I slept. Yesterday, I woke up and turned on the game. I saw you on the sidelines and …” I swallowed. “I dunno. I just kind of lost it again. And when I talked to Rose, I realized it was because I was being stupid.”

“Not stupid. Scared, but not stupid.”

“An asshole.”

“No. Stop it, Cam.”

I sighed, my eyes on the leaves as the wind blew the branches. A few leaves let go and fluttered down to us.

“Did you know Kyle was at the game?” he asked.

I blinked, stunned. “No.”

“He was being recognized for a donation he made. He came to talk to me on the sidelines.” Tyler paused. “He told me about the party. About what he said.”

Cold worry ran in my veins.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Cam?”

“Because I believed him.”

He sighed. “You believed him over me.”

I took a breath. “It wasn’t just because of Kyle.”

“What do you mean?”

I waited through a heartbeat, then another. “It was what I wanted to talk to you about before you left. I don’t know why I didn’t talk to you about it before. I guess because I don’t really talk about it to anyone.”

“Talk about what?” he asked gently.

I felt him watching me, but I kept my eyes above us, tracing the line of the branches that split off like veins, like capillaries in lungs. “A long time ago, I thought I loved a boy. I was in high school, and he was a beautiful, popular boy. And I was nobody, just a bookworm in glasses. But he saw me when I thought I was invisible.”

He didn’t say anything, just held me, waiting for me to continue.

“I trusted him, even though we kept it a secret. I … I gave myself to him. He was my first, and I thought …”

Tyler squeezed me, and I knew he already understood. The knowledge gave me courage.

“The next day at school, he barely acknowledged me. He was back with his ex, and he told me he was sorry.” I sighed at the emptiness of it. “The saddest thing was that I think he really did care about me. But we were too different, he said. From different worlds. He was on the homecoming court, and I was the president of the Mathletes. So I decided I’d never date anyone who I didn’t feel like was my equal ever again.”

“Cam…” The word was full of pain, and I looked up at him. He watched me, his eyes sad, brow furrowed with worry. But I reached up and touched his face.

“So that’s why. It’s dumb, a million years ago. And the most important thing is that you’re not him. You would never treat me like he did, and I know that. I’ve known that, but after it happened, I just wanted to fix it. Fortify myself, protect myself from it ever happening again. But I was wrong, because that hurt me and you.”

“It’s not dumb. I wish you had told me.”

“I’m sorry, Tyler.”

“Don’t apologize. I know why. But I want you to know that if you give me your heart, I’ll take care of it. I’ll protect it with my last breath.”

I turned in his arms and looked up at him, my eyes welling with tears. “My heart was yours from the beginning whether I gave it or not, but I’m giving it to you of my own free will.”

He touched my face.

I smiled. “And I won’t question you ever again.” I took a breath. “You said something to me earlier, and I didn’t respond. I should have, but I didn’t have words, I couldn’t speak. But I want you to know that I’ve loved you as my friend for so long, but now … I just want you to know that I feel the same. I love you, Tyler.” The words felt strange, words I’d barely uttered in my life but never rang so true as they did in that moment. He kissed me, telling me with his body what he’d said with his words, tangible and undeniable.

I broke away after a moment and folded my arms on his chest, resting my chin on the back of my hands. He propped himself up to look at me.

“So what exactly did Kyle say about me?”

“Oh, no,” he said with a snicker.” You’ll never know. But I’ll tell you this — I decked him for it.”

A laugh burst out of me. “You did?”

“I did, which is a big deal. I’ve punched exactly three people in my life, and two of them where before I was thirteen.”

“I wish I could have seen it.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure there’s a tape of it somewhere. God, I was so pissed, I could have killed him. He turned on me too, said I was nobody because I didn’t go pro.”

My heart sank with my smile. “Tyler, he didn’t.”

His smile was subdued too. “He did, but I don’t take stock in anything he says. He was just trying to rile me up, and it worked.” He held up his right hand, swollen knuckles facing me. “But he got punched in the face, so as far as I’m concerned, we’re even.”

I chuckled and took his hand, kissing the knuckles he’d used to defend my honor. “My Knight in shining armor, come to save me.”

“No, it’s you who saved me. You know, you said you didn’t fit in, and I get that. As ‘in’ as I’ve been, I’ve never felt like I belonged, not outside my family and you. It’s why I didn’t want to lose you, why I’ve tried so hard to convince you. You saved me, Cam. Not the other way around.”

“We saved each other from loneliness and ourselves.”

“Maybe someday you’ll be a Knight too,” he said quietly, wrapping his fingers in mine.

My heart stopped for fear it was all a dream. “If you deem me worthy, I couldn’t say no.”

His face bent with emotion. “You are worthy. You’re everything.” And with that, he pulled me up to him, slipped his hand in my hair and kissed me as the autumn leaves fell around us like rain.

White Knight

Tyler

The day went by in a strange time warp, fast and slow, a dream. We ate our sandwiches and walked through the garden. I showed her the old swing in the back of the yard, and she sat so I could push her. I watched her arch, Chucks in the air and hair flying, the smile on her face one I hope I never went a day without seeing.

A vision passed through my mind of her in a wedding dress just like this, Chucks in the air, the skirt of her dress flying, and I wondered over it. It didn’t even surprise me, the thought. I only longed for it, hoped it would come true.

We walked back up to the house, hand in hand, spending the rest of the day with my family. Dinner was a loud affair, full of laughing and stories of our childhood — the more embarrassing the better, as far as my sisters were concerned. And that night, we all sat in the family room and talked until Cam was tucked into my side half asleep and yawns stretched the faces of most of the Knights.

Mom had set Cam up in the guest bedroom down the hall, though once we were dressed for bed and the house was settling down, I met Cam in the bathroom where we brushed our teeth together like we always did.

We stood in the dim hallway and said goodnight in whispers and promises, hating to part, wishing we were at home where could be alone, where she could sleep in my arms.

I didn’t want to be apart from her for another minute.

But I made my way to my room, feeling her down the hall as tangibly as if I’d left a limb with her. Though I had, I supposed. She had my heart.

I tossed and turned for a long while, my mind on her until I couldn’t take it anymore — I snuck down the hall, avoiding the creaking boards, and opened her door, closing it behind me softly.

“You came,” she whispered.

“I always will,” I whispered back as I slipped in next to her.

She sighed and shifted until our bodies were flush, her head tucked under my chin. And I felt more at home than I ever had before.

We didn’t talk, just held each other in the moonlight. Didn’t kiss, just breathed. And when I finally drifted off to sleep, it was with her name on my lips and her body against mine.

MIRROR

Cam

IT WAS STILL DARK WHEN he woke, leaving me with a kiss and the brush of my cheek, and I slipped back into sleep with a smile. When I woke again, the sun was up, and I stretched like a cat, hoping he was already awake, wishing he were still in bed with me.

When I was dressed, I made my way down the stairs and into the kitchen, finding Tyler there, reading. I’d brought him The Hobbit, and he was bent over it, engrossed in the words. He didn’t see me approach, not until I was next to him, pressing a kiss on his temple.

His mom was making breakfast, eggs and bacon and hash browns, but the kitchen was otherwise empty.

“Morning, Cam,” she said. “Sleep well?”

I smiled at Tyler. “Great, thanks for asking. Are the girls at school?” I asked as I sat down next to him.

“They are,” she said, “and Carl too, but he’ll be by later to see you both off.”

Tyler frowned a little at me. “When’s your flight?”

My smile turned into a smirk. “I got on your flight coming home, thanks to your mom.”

She smiled at us over her shoulder. “I might have done some covert luggage digging for the information.”

He laughed. “Now I’m glad I brought my receipts with me for both flights.”

Mrs. Knight sighed. “I’m gonna miss you. This trip was a blur.”

I felt a little guilty. “That’s my fault.”

She waved her spatula at me. “Don’t be silly. Tyler wasn’t going to be home much whether you were here or not. At least yesterday we got to spend the day together. Will you two come back for Thanksgiving?”

He looked at me hopefully, and I smiled. “I’d be happy to. Maybe we could go to Walnut too and see my parents. It’s only an hour and a half away.”

“That’ll sure make the holidays easier,” she said with a laugh, as if she knew we’d be spending holidays together for the foreseeable future, as if it were the only natural course of action, and I hoped she was right.

We ate our breakfast and packed our bags, Tyler’s dad making it just in time to see us off, as promised. We all embraced with the promise to see each other at Thanksgiving, which made the goodbyes easier. And then we climbed into Tyler’s rental car and drove away, waving until we pulled out of the gate.

I sighed and sat back in my seat, and he reached for my hand, smiling at me, our fingers entwined for the entire ride.

On the plane, he lifted the armrest between us and tucked my legs in his lap as we read our books. He’d pause on occasion to talk to me about it, read a passage to me with my head resting on his shoulder. I did the same with Mists of Avalon, convincing him to read it too, undaunted by the fact that it was near nine hundred pages long.

New York was just as it had been when I’d left the morning before, but I felt lighter, happier than I’d imagined I could. Like he was the antidote to my crazy, somehow normalizing me, lightening the load of my burden.

By the time we got home, the sun was setting, and we walked in the door, heading straight for our rooms to dump our things. He met me in my room and flopped down on my bed, and I did the same, giggling.

He propped his head on his hand and laid a hand on my hip, sliding me closer to him. I slipped my leg between his.

“I liked seeing you in my hometown,” he said, smiling.

“I liked being in your hometown. I loved your family when I met them last time they were in New York, but now I don’t know if they’ll ever get rid of me.”

He laughed. “I don’t know if you’ll ever get rid of them. Or me, for that matter.”

My heart fluttered. “Well, the feeling is mutual.”

His face grew more serious, and he brushed my hair from my face, smoothing it to cup the back of my head gently. “What if you get scared again?”

“Then I’ll talk to you, and you’ll tell me you love me, and I’ll be fine.”

“No more running?”

“No more running away. Only toward.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” I searched his face, touched his cheek. “Now I’ve made you afraid.”

“No, not afraid for me. Afraid for you. I don’t want you to hurt, Cam. Especially because of me.”

“You never hurt me. I hurt myself. But I have faith. I have to, because being without you isn’t what I want. I need you, Tyler.”

He closed his eyes and turned his face to kiss my palm. I leaned into him, pulling him down to kiss me, his lips brushing against mine gently at first, then deeper, his tongue sweeping my bottom lip. I parted them, letting him in, letting go. Giving him all of me.

His hands were in my hair, our bodies pressed together as we came as close as we could. But I wanted to be closer. I wanted all of him.

My hands found the hem of his shirt and slipped under to the hot, soft skin of his abs. They didn’t stop, moving up his body, feeling the ridges and valleys of his chest. He broke away from the kiss long enough to strip his shirt off and toss it before his lips pressed against mine again.

I felt so small as he pulled me close, so delicate under his hands that stroked my chin and neck, my arm and hip, as careful as he was firm with me. He was tender and demanding all at once, pulling off my shirt, unhooking my bra with the snap of his fingers, and then they were gone.

His hands — they were so strong and somehow soft as he stroked my breast reverently, thumbing my nipple, bending to place his lips around it, circling his tongue until my eyes refused to stay open. He pinned me against him with a single hand on my back, the other around my breast, and my hips rolled, looking for his, wanting the connection my body ached for.

He moved down my body, the loss of his hot mouth on my breast instant, the cool air hitting it, tightening it just when I thought I couldn’t feel anything more exquisite. His hands deftly unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them off, moving with certainty that made me feel helpless — I couldn’t move, my body surrendered — and powerful — he couldn’t stop, desiring me so much, his hands trembling with need. There was no ceremony in removing my panties, and I needed none. I only needed him.

He settled in between my legs, kissing my thigh, touching me softly, opening me, filling me, sucking — my head fell to the side, unable to keep my eyes open at the relief of him touching me like my body was his. He broke away, and my lids cracked to see him moving for the bed stand. I watched him roll the condom on, his big hands stroking the long length of him, his body in shadows, the curve of his shoulders and chest, the ridges of his abs, the V that led from his hips and down.

And then he lowered himself down, hovered over me, caged me in his arms, guided his crown until he was pressed against me. I moaned a word, his name, a plea, and he flexed, stealing my breath as he filled me.

Full, so full I still couldn’t breathe, though he still could fill me more, but he pulled out with a shuddering breath, his eyes nearly closed, lips parted as his nose brushed against mine. And he flexed again, harder, filling me more.

Before, I had control over the depth, but this time was different. He hit me deeper, pressing gently. It was a dream, only heartbeats and sensations, breaths and visions. His face, his body, mine, coming together, parting, slow and steady. I rocked against him, legs raising to bring him deeper still, knees high against his ribs, thighs trembling. He rolled his hips against the sensitive spot where our bodies met, pulled out to hit the sensitive spot inside, and with every motion my heart beat faster, legs squeezed tighter, breath shallow, until he whispered:

“Let go.”

Two words, and I came unraveled, heart stopping before surging along with my body that squeezed and held him. And it was too much. Too much for me, for him, and he was right behind me, coming with a thrust that hit the end of me, on the breath of my name. He was everywhere, surrounding me, inside of me, in my heart, in my soul. He was mine. I was his. And I knew then I’d never give myself to anyone else.

Our bodies slowed, and he dropped his head, burying it in my neck. I cradled him in my arms, fingers in his hair, and I closed my eyes and breathed, feeling his heart beating against mine until they beat together.

When he raised his head and looked at me, there was so much love, so much that I was overcome, my eyes filling with tears that spilled over, and down into my hair. And my eyes mirrored his, my heart and soul mirrored his — we were one, the same, together.

I couldn’t speak, and even if I could there weren’t words for the moment. So I kissed him and promised him forever, and he promised me the same. And I lay in his arms, where I’d stay.

EPILOGUE

Tyler

TYLER

CAM STOOD IN FRONT of the bar at Wasted Words with a champagne glass in her hand, tapping it with a swizzle stick to get everyone’s attention. The crowd turned to face her, my beautiful girlfriend who looked quite at home in heels and a dress, red lips smiling at Bayleigh and Martin.

“Hi, everyone. I wanted to thank you all for coming tonight.”

A voice came from the back, saying, “Where you at, short stuff?”

Everyone laughed, and Greg appeared next to her with a chair, helping her up to stand on it.

“Better?” she asked, and everyone gave their assent. “Good. So thanks for being here to celebrate Bayleigh and Martin’s engagement.”

The crowd clapped and whistled, and Bayleigh blushed, leaning into Martin.

“Now, some of you may or may not know that I was actually one-hundred-percent anti-Martin at first.”

A few joking boos came from the back, but she laughed and held up a hand, nodding. “I know, hear me out. I sort of have a reputation for setting people up, and I thought I had the two of them figured out, and had big plans for them that didn’t include each other. But I couldn’t see what was right in front of me — that these two were perfect for each other. No matter what I did to keep them apart, they just kept finding each other. The force that binds the two of them is stronger than any one person could break, and I know. I tried. But if ever there was a time I was glad to be wrong, it was then.”

Everyone cheered Hear, hear, and Martin raised his glass, wrapping an arm around Bayleigh’s shoulders.

Cam lifted her glass in the air. “To Bayleigh and Martin: may you always defy the rules and truths of the universe, if it means you’ll always be together. Congratulations, my friends.”

The crowd uttered their own cheers, glasses raised, and took a drink.

I stepped over to Cam to help her off the chair, and she beamed up at me. “I need a drink that’s not so bubbly.”

I chuckled. “Whiskey?”

“Yes, please.”

We stepped over to the bar where the new bartender, Sascha, smiled at us.

“Halloo, Cam,” he said in his thick German accent, long face bent in a smirk of cartoonish proportions. “Something to drink?”

“Makers on the rocks, thanks.”

“No problem,” he answered as he scooped ice into the glass. “So has Miss Matchmaker found a date for me yet?”

She chuckled. “Not yet, Sascha.”

“Well, you know I am still looking for my green card,” he joked, crooked smile still on his face.

“Oh, I know,” she said with a laugh. “I’m surprised you haven’t found one for yourself. You seem to go home with a new lady every night.”

He laid a hand on his chest as he poured, smiling in a way that was self-deprecating and cocky all at once. “Well, you know, the ladies love the accent.”

She laughed. “It’s true, they do. You’re everyone’s new favorite bartender. Now, if I could only figure out how to get you to come to work in lederhosen, we’d be all set.”

“Ah, but I left mine in Frankfurt,” he said with a smile and a shrug as he handed her drink over.

“Thanks, Sascha. Tell your mom to mail it. I’ll pay for postage.”

He leaned on the bar. “Deal. Anything for you, Tyler?”

I held up my drink. “I’m good. Thanks.”

“You are welcome.” A girl walked up to the other end of the bar and he stood up straighter, his smile pulling up higher as he kicked on the charm.

Cam shook her head. “That guy is a freaking money maker. Look at him talk to that girl. He cleans up.”

I laughed. “The man’s got skills. He’ll have his green card in no time at that rate.”

She laughed and slipped her arm around my waist, looking over at Bayleigh and Martin with a sigh. “I’m so happy for them.”

“Me too.”

“I still feel bad about how all that went down.”

“Well, you should. You were a huge dick about it.”

She made a face and pinched my side. “Ha, ha.”

I chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “It all worked out. Everything did.”

“It sure did.” She smiled up at me. “I can’t believe it’s been almost a year.”

“Me neither. I’m surprised you haven’t left me yet.”

She snickered. “Who would have thought I would have been more of a flight risk than you were?”

I squeezed her. “Me.”

She smiled, lifting up on her tiptoes, and I bent to kiss her gently before she pulled me through the crowd.

The year had been eventful. I’d signed Darryl and gone through my first off season — he’d accepted a contract with the 49ers, and I’d been there with him every step of the way. Cam had put in her time, working her ass off at Wasted Words, and it had become a staple of the neighborhood, singles night still a success, every time. And I still went, only for her.

We’d spent every holiday in the Midwest, bouncing between Walnut and Lincoln, our parents sometimes traveling so we could holiday all together. The last time I saw her dad, on Labor Day, I’d asked him for her hand.

He’d smiled, eyes glistening behind his glasses, and clapped me on the shoulder, telling me that he’d always wanted a son. Telling me he’d always wanted to see Cam as happy as she was with me.

The ring was stashed in a pair of house shoes, under a stack of sweaters in my closet. The plan was firmly in place, our trip to Lincoln for homecoming booked, her parents set to be there with us, and the band already had the sheet music for “Crazy He Calls Me.” All I needed was for time to speed up and for her to say yes.

Her tiny hand was in mine as we made the rounds, talking to everyone, but hanging mostly by Bayleigh and Martin. I’d never seen Martin so happy, not in all the years I’d known him. The two of them had been inseparable ever since that fateful night of bowling. And Cam and I had been inseparable since the band played “Bust a Move.”

She’d kept her promise. She hadn’t run, hadn’t worried, just let it go, just like she said she would. And we’d been perfectly happy ever since. No more doubt. No more wondering. Just Cam and me, burning together.

The night wound to a close, and everyone trickled out, Bayleigh and Martin last. There were hugs and congratulations, plans and promises discussed — Cam and I were both in the wedding party — and then, they were gone too.

We stood in front of the doors, the city on the other side, shelves and aisles of books behind us, and I looked down at her as she looked up, our eyes meeting for a long moment, smiles gentle and full of forever. And when we kissed, I knew our forever had already begun.

Acknowledgements

So many people to thank for this one that it’s a little unbelievable to me. I’m so thankful to have such amazing support, because without it, this book may not have seen the light of day.

To Jeff Brillhart — I’ll try not to publish another book in May. Thank you for being such an amazing husband and Dad to have taken care of everything in my absence as I sequestered myself in my office. You’re the hero in our story.

To Kandi Steiner — You have talked me off the ledge more times than I can count, and you took the brunt of my Cat5 hurricane winds like a goddamn bomb shelter. Thank you for holding my hair back while I puked this book up. Now let’s trade places.

To Becca Mysoor — Through all the ups and downs with this story, through some of the busiest times of your life, you’ve always done your best to be there for me, even when I’m an annoying prat, even when I’m belligerent, even when I’m backed in a corner and biting. You’re the Tyler to my Cam. Without you, I’m half a brain and three limbs short.

To Lauren Perry — You’ve outdone yourself with the photos for this book. Thank you for your talent, and for bringing my characters to life.

To Karla Sorensen — Please never stop drunk texting me. #JAMMF4EV

To Brittainy Cherry — You know my heart, and I know yours. Thank you for always understanding, and for always knowing just what I need to hear.

To Tina Lynne — You’re the fixer. It’s your new name. Go with it.

To Miranda Arnold — You claimed Tyler, so put up your dukes because here they come.

To Becky Slemons — Thank you for cranking my proof out to me in four days like an absolute boss.

To my beta readers — Thank you all for taking the time to read my words, to poke holes in the story and my characters, to lend me your brains and your eyes. Your feedback is invaluable to me.

More Books by Staci Hart

Hearts and Arrows

Deer in Headlights (Hearts and Arrows 1)

Snake in the Grass (Hearts and Arrows 2)

What the Heart Wants (Hearts and Arrows 2.5 Novella)

Doe Eyes (Hearts and Arrows 3)

Fool’s Gold (Hearts and Arrows 3.5 Novella)

Hearts and Arrows Box Set

Hardcore (Erotic Suspense Serials)

Volume 1

Volume 2

Volume 3

Box Set

Bad Habits (Romantic Comedy)

With a Twist

Chaser

Last Call

Wasted Words - Coming May 19

Nighthawk - a Steampunk Adventure Romance - Coming Summer 2016

Once

Short story on Amazon

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About the Author

Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life: a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can’t forget that. She’s also been a mom to three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She’s been a wife, even though she’s certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She’s also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she’s been drinking whiskey, and her favorite word starts with f, ends with k.

From roots in Houston, to a seven year stint in Southern California, Staci and her family ended up settling somewhere in between and equally north, in Denver. They are new enough that snow is still magical. When she’s not writing, she’s gaming, cleaning, or designing graphics.

Follow Staci Hart:

Website: Stacihartnovels.com

Facebook: Facebook.com/stacihartnovels

Twitter: Twitter.com/imaquirkybird

Pinterest: pinterest.com/imaquirkybird

Table of Contents

Title

copyright

Table of Contents

More Books

Table of Contents

Dedication

Always Right

All The Books

Sexy Kale

How to Hope

Peter Freaking Parker

A Proper Match

Gatekeeper meets Keymaster

Christ On A Bike

Infallible

Yes/No/Maybe

Fertilized

Doublemint

Clark Kent Never Wins

Big Bad Brains

Crazy Pants

Badly Done

Keep Walking

Just Because

YouTube Saves

Crazy He Calls Me

Begging For Thread

The Construct

Lost

Keep Breathing

Burn Together

True Colors

Limbo

White Knight

Mirror

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

More Books

Bio