Page 20 of Provoking Camden

“Is either interview in the next few days?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you wait and call them later or tomorrow when you’re feeling at least slightly better? I hate to tell you this, but your lip is swollen, and your speech is slightly slurred.”

I wince. “Okay.” He’s right. “Can I call Natasha, though? She’s probably worried. I don’t want her to come home because of me.”

“Yes. I think that’s a good idea.” He pulls his own phone out of his pocket and taps the screen. I’m confused for a moment before I realize he’s calling Jameson and intends for me to use his phone to talk to Natasha. Controlling much?

“Hey,” he says after a few seconds. “…She’s pretty beaten up, but she’ll heal. She’d like to talk to Natasha.” Camden finally hands me the phone.

While I wait for Natasha to say something, I slide back down under the covers and lower my head to the pillow.

Natasha is breathy when she finally speaks. “Simone. Oh my God. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I look like I was in a fight, but I’ll live.”

“You were in a fight,” she points out.

I try not to smile. “Yeah.”

“I’ve been trying to talk Daddy into going home earlier than we planned. He says you need to rest and heal and I wouldn’t be able to spend much time with you anyway.”

“That’s true. Please don’t cut your vacation short for me. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re still at Camden’s?”

I look at the man. “I’m not just at his house, he’s crowding me. He’s so close that I’m sure he can hear you. Maybe don’t mention all those times we plotted to spill ink on his test papers or the time we broke into the university computers and changed all the grades in his class to an A.”

Natasha giggles. “I won’t mention either of those.”

Camden smirks. He knows I’m full of shit. He does not back off and give me any privacy. Not that I need it.

“Where exactly are you?” she murmurs.

“Uhhh…” I look at Camden. He’s still smirking.

“You’re in his bed, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Natasha squeals.

I hold the phone away from my ear to keep from getting a blown eardrum. This is when Camden finally leaves the room.

Still…smirking.

“Girl…” Natasha’s back. “Details.”

“Trust me, there are no details. You want me to send you a picture of my face? One of my eyes is swollen shut. It’s black and blue. My lip is so fat on one side I can’t talk right. There are dozens of blue handprints all over my body from where he gripped me. You don’t want to see this, and I certainly didn’t have sex last night.”

“Right. Sorry. And I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“Thanks. I’ll heal, but…”

“But?”

I glance toward the door. It’s possible Camden is right outside eavesdropping, although that doesn’t seem his style. If he wanted to listen in, he would have stayed where he was, blatantly leaning in toward the phone.