Page 31

Chapter Thirty

Cameron

At this point, I’m pretty sure I enjoy torturing myself.

I’ve had a few drinks, but not enough to do something stupid like try to get into Austen’s pants, but the thought is on my mind and it won’t go away.

I shouldn’t have invited him here after the restaurant, but part of me just wanted to know if he would accept. He did. Now we’re here and things are awkward.

I hate this place. Nothing about it feels like home. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice, as it should be for what I pay for it. The view is gorgeous, but not as beautiful as the artwork I saw in the museum today. Not as beautiful as Austen…

This is so bad. So fucking bad. This situation is going to get me into trouble.

Except… I’m prepared this time.

If I make a move on Austen, and he goes with it, I’ll be prepared for the backlash because I know it’s coming. But does that mean it would hurt any less? Probably not. And what if I made a move and he denied me? What then? Will this be ruined again? Should we talk about it?

I’ve slept with enough people to know that look. The one they give when they wanna fuck you. Bedroom eyes. Austen has them. He wants this. Part of him does, but that’s what makes me so fucking angry. He wants it but he won’t take it.

But would I even let him?

Austen and I can’t be together. It won’t work. He has a wife and a whole life. There is no way he and I could build something together, but also… I am not the settling down kind of guy. But for him? No, not thinking about that. It doesn’t matter who it is. That’s not me.

He fiddles with the remote, but it’s clear he has no idea what he’s doing, so I snatch it from his hand and get to the home screen where I look through the streaming apps. I have all of them. A complete waste of money since I’m never here to watch them. But what else do I do with my money besides waste it? It goes to this lavish penthouse apartment, steaming services, a car that sits in the garage, and a ton of other things I don’t use. It’s all really fucking stupid.

I skim through the movies and grin when I see one I know he’s going to love. Little Giants.

“Oh my God,” he grumbles but laughs when I click on it. “Seriously forgot about this movie.”

“Me too.”

I drop the remote to the couch. “You want something to drink?”

“No thanks,” he says, not meeting my eyes.

“I have non-alcoholic stuff, you know. We don’t need a repeat of the last time we got drunk together.”

His head snaps up, eyes meeting mine.

Why the hell did I say that?

Because I’m an asshole, I guess.

“Water is fine.”

I walk around the couch and head into the kitchen that’s just off the living room. It’s spacious and unused, like the rest of this place. I grab two bottles of water from the fridge and look through the cabinet for a snack. I will order pizza, but I could use a snack too. I love sushi, but it never fills me up.

When I get back to the living room, I hand him the bottle of water and drop the box of Cheez-its on the couch between us. He’s messing with his phone.

“What’s the address here?” he asks. I raise a brow as I open my water. “So I can order pizza.”

“Oh, right.” I ramble off the address to him and he orders a pizza from the place down the street. Since he already has it pulled up, arguing with him over doing it will be a waste of time.

“Will we have to go down and get it?” he asks.

“Nah, the front desk will bring it up.”

“Fancy,” he mutters.

Yeah, things are still awkward as we sit here, watching a movie we watched a hundred times as kids, while we wait for our pizza.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” I say when I can no longer take the silence. Austen looks at me, frowning. “About being drunk last time. I’m sorry. I’m just… I feel like I don’t know how to do this with you, and I’m still kind of angry.”

“I don’t know what we’re even doing, Cam.”

“I think we’re just trying to be friends…”

“Yeah, but… it shouldn’t be so weird, right?”

I shrug, taking another mouthful of my water. “Might be normal after what happened.”

“Do you…” He pauses, licking his lips. “Do you regret it?”

Do I regret it? It’s not the first time I’ve thought about that question.

“You know, I asked myself that same thing a million times over the years.”

“And?”

“Yes, I do.”

Austen flinches, but then nods.

“But only because it ruined everything, and a drunken night and messy blowjob is not worth losing what we had. I mean, look at us.” I throw my hands up and let them fall to my lap. “This isn’t us. And I don’t know how to go back to being us.”

“I don’t think we can,” he says softly.

It’s silent for a bit, the TV playing in the background but I’m mostly drowning it out. I feel like the longer he’s here, the more awkward it gets and that’s not how I wanted this to go.

“What about you?” I ask. “Do you regret it?”

Austen opens his mouth to speak, but there’s a knock on my door. We both look that way, but I get up and go to it, accepting the pizza when it’s offered to me. I take it to the kitchen to grab plates and napkins before going back to the living room. I set everything up on the coffee table, and then we eat. We finish the movie, and there’s only two slices of the pizza left.

Without asking, I put another movie on. Austen doesn’t make to move and I think he’s feeling the same way I am right now. He’s not ready for this to end, but isn’t really sure what else to do. I don’t want him to leave but I don’t know how to handle him being here. It’s stupid, and it irritates me. I hate that this is how we are, that neither of us knows how to fix what we broke, even if we both want to.

When the movie is halfway done, I look over at Austen and see him sound asleep. The upper half of his body is leaning on the arm of the chair, while his feet are still on the floor. I get up, grab a blanket from the closet and cover him with it then take his shoes off and lift his legs to the couch so he’s more comfortable. Good to know he still sleeps like the dead.

I shut off the TV and I’m halfway to my bedroom when I turn around, grab a blanket for myself, then get comfortable on the opposite end of the couch so our feet are just barely touching.

Guess I’m not ready to leave him yet.