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Page 4 of Playmaker

Maddie

“And he apologized ?” Maya, holding a bottle of red nail polish, glances up from the foot of my bed. “Cameron Holden ? Are we talking about the same person?”

I still can’t believe it either. Six years ago he told me he didn’t want anything to do with me, and now we’ve interacted more than we have in ages. It’s like whiplash the way he goes from hot to cold. When I caught him in the guest bedroom with that girl—she did an exceptional job of expressing herself—he went from being a dick saying he was in the middle of something to chasing me down the hall and asking for my forgiveness. He’s an anomaly I have yet to figure out.

And I could have sworn he had wanted to. Well, I’m not going to make any assumptions, but the way he looked at me was breathtaking . I’ve never seen his eyes get so dark and serious.

But he was drunk, and I interrupted his night of fun. Of course he was horny. He probably would have made a move on anyone standing there. Not that he did make a move, but when he stepped closer to me in the hallway and was towering over me, I thought . . .

“Stop fidgeting!” Maya scolds. Her grip becomes firmer on my foot and she dips the brush back into the polish. “You’re being a horrible test subject.”

Right . Maya’s in the cosmetology program at the local community college, and I never complain when she wants to practice on me. But I can’t focus with thoughts of Cameron on my mind.

“Sorry,” I grumble. “Anyway, I was in shock too. Believe me. The whole night was strange.”

“It is weird,” Maya admits. “But I hope you’re not stuck on the whole ‘bore’ comment they made. Cameron and Ethan think anyone who doesn’t party is boring, you know? Don’t apologize for trying to get out of this desert-ass town and make something of yourself.”

“I would never apologize for that, but sometimes I wonder if I’m missing out. Is partying really that much fun? The ones I’ve been to at college weren’t like the movies. They seemed pointless, but maybe something is wrong with me because I think that? I should enjoy partying, right? I’m nineteen. This is the time in my life when I’m supposed to let loose and have fun. Am I a loser?”

Maya scoffs and switches to my other foot. “You’re far from a loser, Maddie. You’re a loner. There’s a difference.”

If she wasn’t so focused on painting my nails, I would have chucked a pillow at her face. “Because that is so much better. Thanks .”

Maya never pressured me to go out in high school, which is why we were so close to each other. Her parents were strict, and I had no interest in getting high and drunk every weekend, so we spent our nights watching corny movies while she practiced braiding my hair and painting my nails, like she’s doing to me now. She’s the type of friend I can go months without seeing, but as soon as I’m back home, it’s like I never left. We pick back up right where we left off.

“It’s not a bad thing.” Maya reassures me. “You’d rather stay in and read a book than go out. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s your preference.”

“But to everyone else it seems like a bad thing.”

“Everyone as in Cameron Holden ?” She gives me a knowing look, and it’s no use hiding my feelings for him from her. If anyone would understand, it would be her. She was with me through my years of hard-core crushing on him. I never admitted it to her, but anyone could see it whenever Cameron was around. I followed him like a lost puppy when he came over to the house. And Maya was by my side after he told me he didn’t want me in his life. She held me while I cried, and we stayed up eating pints of ice cream until three in the morning.

“Maybe,” I admit in defeat. “I don’t know.”

Maya screws the cap back on the nail polish and says, “What will make you feel better? If you want to go to a party and try to dip your toe in again, let’s go. Mark is throwing one at his place tonight, and your lover boy will be in attendance too.”

“He’s not my lover boy,” I snap. “How do you even know he’s going?”

She scoffs. “Maddie, Cameron is a shoo-in for the NFL. The minute he comes back to this rinky-dink town, people talk. His whereabouts are always on everyone’s radar.”

I don’t know how I feel about Cameron being famous around here. I’m used to the nerdy kid who ran through sprinklers with me and walked me to the ice-cream shop on scorching summer days. He was shy back then, and even though he’s more outgoing now, I can’t imagine he enjoys all this attention. I’d like to think I still know him, but maybe the personality changes over the years have become permanent.

Maya is still staring at me as she awaits my answer.

“I don’t want to be that girl.”

Maya scrunches her brows together. “What girl?”

“Like, the girl who’s not used to partying and suddenly shows up to try to fit in. This is a small town. People will talk.”

“And since when have you given a shit about what anyone thinks?” she asks. “Look, I’m not trying to persuade you to go if you’re not comfortable with it, but if you want to go, we can, and I’ll make you look superhot.”

I arch a brow. “Hair included?”

She almost looks offended. “Um, of course . I need all the practice I can get.”

I slump back into my pillows, and she swats my foot to get me to be still before she starts on the clear coat.

I don’t know what the hell I’m thinking. Am I really considering going to this party? I’ve always been confident in who I am, and I’ve never regretted my decision to focus on studying rather than getting shit-faced like everyone else, but I’m not Maya . She radiates sexiness everywhere she goes. With her deep-tan skin, glossy hair, and features that models would kill for, she stands out in any room she walks into. I can’t say the same for me.

Still, I can’t shake the memory of Cameron’s expression last night. I felt like we were close to a breakthrough, but I had to leave him alone in that hallway because if he’d been drinking, anything he said could have been a lie. If he wants to apologize for that day six years ago, I need him to be completely sober so I know he means it.

“Fine,” I relent. “I’ll go.”

“Perfect, but if you want to get there on time, I suggest you stop fidgeting! God, you’re the worst!”

I lift my head from the pillows. “Word of advice? You really need to work on your customer service.”

“ Voy a matarte ,” she mutters as a grin tugs at her lips.