Page 46

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Brady

“You’re kidding?”

She shakes her head, throwing her seat belt off.

I frown in horror, looking out at the dozens of teenagers getting drunk around the firepits. It’s barely after five, but teens around here have always used the time change to our advantage and it seems that hasn’t changed in the few years we’ve been gone.

My attention snaps back to Cameron. “They’re going to think we’re old!”

“Nah.” She pushes her door open, grinning wildly at me. “They’re gonna think you’re a king.” She jumps out, slamming the door behind her.

She doesn’t just take off into the group of people or wait for me by the bumper. No, that’s not her style. Too basic. Too boring.

Cameron’s arms are already lifting, her body swaying to the beat of the bass as she dances her away around until she’s right there, hips moving under the headlights.

She spins around in a cute-ass, little hip roll, pointing at me as she belts out the song playing because, of course, she just so happens to know all the words to it.

I drop back in my seat, completely and terrifyingly fucking stuck .

Cameron smiles, her chin meeting her shoulder as she teases, her natural flirty state shining through, something I haven’t seen too much from her lately .

She’s here tonight, though. Wild on life. High on moonlight.

My little Hellcat.

She tips her head from side to side, neck stretching delicately, and my eyes trace the rhythmic roll that moves through her.

Even in my hoodie that hides her figure completely, she is a sight.

My gaze falls to the bottom hem, skin prickling at the way it rubs against her upper thighs.

I wish it were my hand gliding across her there, my fingers bending slightly between her legs the way that thick cotton is.

Fucking shit. Alister was wrong.

I’m not falling for her.

I already fell so hard my ass has hit the floor, and now all I want to do is tug her down on top of me. I want her to straddle my waist, her soft hands sliding along my skin until she’s holding on the way I would be—and I fucking would be.

If given the chance, I’d hold on with everything I’ve got.

That’s a dangerous thought, my boy.

Her arms lift, sleeves falling down her wrists, but my attention snaps to her legs as she spins again. With each inch higher her hands go, more flesh is exposed until I can see the point where her thigh becomes her ass.

I jerk, turning the headlights off.

That works like a charm, and she whips around, waiting for her eyes to adjust so she can see me through the windshield.

Behind her, the edge of the party stares this way, whether it was from her solo dance or the flash of the light disappearing, I can’t say.

If I were one of the guys standing over there, it sure as shit wouldn’t have been the lights.

I climb out, tucking the keys in my pocket, and meet her where she stands. She smiles innocently, and my own tugs at my lips as I throw my arm around her, tugging her close. “Okay, brat. You’re doing the talking here.”

“My pleasure , Big Guy.” She stretches up, kissing my cheek before taking my hand that’s around her and leading us straight to the pickup with the keg in the back of it, several small tents off to the right.

A brunette girl and two blond dudes are sitting in folding chairs in front of it, and they look at us wearily, wondering if we’re about to narc on them.

Little do they know, it was our parents who started this tradition when they were back in high school and the owner of this land used to babysit us both.

“Is the buy-in still ten bucks?” Cameron gets right to it.

One of the blonds narrows his eyes, looking from her to me and back. “It’s fifteen for outsiders.”

An unexpected laugh leaves me, and he glances over again. This time, his eyes widen. “Wait, I know you,” he starts.

Before he can say another word, another shouts, “Bro…dude, it’s Lancaster!”

I look toward the voice, finding a guy wearing the same letterman’s jacket I’ve got hanging in my closet sliding up, red Solo cup in hand.

“Yo, you played with my brother, Clayton Miller!” The guy grins.

“I’m Calvin.” He reaches a hand out, and I take it for a shake.

He glances back, a couple others walking up to join us, before facing me.

“I was on the freshman team your senior year. Didn’t play much then, but I’m starting safety now. Varsity.”

“Good for you, man.” I smile. Looking across at the others, I say, “Running backs?”

The one on the end gives a drunken smile and raises his cup. “Nailed it.”

“Coach still playing his running backs both ways?”

“Yup. Running back on offense, outside linebacker on defense.”

I nod, looking to the big guy with his chin lifted all cocky-like. He’s a good six two with shoulders that about rival my own. “Let me guess, you’re the new me?”

“Depends.” He lifts a lazy shoulder. “Who were you? ”

Cameron chokes on a laugh, pulling my wallet from my back pocket to pay the keg guard.

“Bro, shut up!” The eager friend shoves him. “You know who he is. You’ve been trying to break his record for two years now.”

The guy glares at his friend, and I fight the smirk that wants to appear.

Little fucker.

“I’ll run some drills with you tomorrow morning if you’re up for it.”

The guy narrows his eyes, trying to decide if he wants to keep the toughness about him, but we’re all the same here: small-town boys who want to make our families proud—make ourselves proud.

“Yeah, man.” He chooses the right route. “I’m free tomorrow.”

“At the field, six a.m.?”

He nods, standing a little taller.

Cameron slips in front of me, passing me a cup with a secret smile. “See?” she whispers. “King.”

She kisses my jaw, a natural gesture she’s done a hundred times over, but this time, the soft press of her lips makes my skin feel tight.

I want to hold her there, tip my head to the side and see if she’ll keep going, trace a path that she can call her own.

Feel the heat of her breath and see if it rivals the heat building in other places.

My eyes lower to hers, and she winks, slipping away, and I shift my body so I can keep her in my sight but stay to answer questions about college ball with the new West Coldon High varsity players.

Cameron makes friends fast, and it helps that we’re only a couple years older than them. She dances around with several girls before hopping over to dominate the reigning duo at beer pong.

She smiles and laughs and drops down by the fire, talking about god knows what but having a good-ass time while she does it.

I note that the dude I offered to train with tomorrow has swapped his Solo cup out for a can of grape soda and smile to myself. I wonder if he noticed I passed my cup off, not having had a single drink.

I’ve just finished a conversation with a guy I remember from high school when Cameron wraps her little arms around my stomach, sticking her hands inside the pocket of my hoodie like I did hers.

“Warm me up, big bear man.”

Chuckling, I spin in her arms, hauling her up and holding her to me, being sure to keep her “dress” under her ass, and she knows not to wrap her legs around me this time. “Ready to get out of here? I’m starving and you know my mom’s got something good waiting.”

“Oh! I hope it’s her baked mac and cheese!”

This time, it’s me who kisses her cheek. “Of course you do.”

She wiggles to be let down, but I’m not ready to let go yet, so I carry her, even in the awkward pencil-like position her outfit demands of her, and deposit her in the passenger seat this time. I jog around the truck and hop in, driving us back to my house.

As soon as we pull back onto the main road, the rains starts coming down, just as my dad said it would.

Cameron tucks her feet under her, leaning over until her elbow is brushing mine on the console as she searches for something to listen to on the satellite radio.

Facing the road, I cut a quick side glance her way, noting the little frown of concentration as she skips station after station, trying to find the perfect one to match her mood.

She has no clue she’s touching me, but it was the first thing that registered in my mind.

She settles on hip-hop, bouncing all around as she sings along, pointing my way and doing her damnedest to get me to join in.

I’m shit with lyrics, so I help out with the chorus here and there, and just as we’re rolling up to the stop sign before our street, the track changes, and Drake’s “In My Feelings” comes on, and her head snaps my way, her slow grin only growing wider and wider .

“Brady.”

“No.”

“Braaaaa-dyyyyyy,” she says, dragging my name out.

“No, woman, it’s fuckin’ raining!” I laugh, but she’s already cranked the radio up to deafening decibels and is throwing the door open. She squeals and starts running around the back of the car.

“Damn it,” I laugh, throwing my seat belt off and doing the same, dipping my head like it’ll help repel the rain.

We high five as we pass the back of the truck and then meet in the middle of the front end.

The chorus hits and we sing like lunatics, doing the damn dance she and Ari forced us to learn when this went viral and our parents made us promise not to follow how it’s supposed to go but to dance around a parked car rather than a moving one.

She throws her head back and laughs, her arms coming around me just as I reach out to grip her by the waist.

We’re sopping fucking wet, standing in the middle of the dark street, headlights beaming around us.

Her smile is wide. Addicting. The kind of smile that has the power to make time stop.

And that’s exactly what happens.

The world around me slows, the humor slipping off my face as I stare into her big, baby blues. They hold this mischievous glow, flirting with the idea of teasing me, but unintentionally enough for her to make me wonder if I’m only seeing what I want to see.