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“But—?” I ask.

“It needs to be a one-off.”

“Because of Dad?”

He nods.

“Is he the only reason?”

“You’re ten years younger than me, Cameron.”

“And?”

“You’d have more fun with someone closer to your age.”

“I think that’s for me to decide, isn’t it?”

He still doesn’t look at me.

“You realise Dad is ten years older thanyou? I guess age gaps only matter when it’s someone you want to fuck.” I’m careful to keep my voice low. Am I being unfair? Maybe. It won’t stop me from getting the hurt in my heart out in the open. “You don’t even know that Dadwouldhave a problem. You’re just assuming he will, and you’re too scared to find out.”

Euan clenches his jaw and bows his head.

I knock my loose fist lightly against the counter. “I’m not a kid, Euan. Please don’t treat me like one.”

“I’m sorry, Cameron.”

I hunch my shoulders. The truth is, I knew it was going to come to this. I knew I was playing with fire. I did it willingly. I should be happy I got to be with him at all. Why wish for more? It was never going to happen.

“I won’t tell Dad what happened between us. Send Elliott home in an hour, please. I’ll have dinner ready for him.”

“Cameron—”

I turn my back on him. “I’m sorry I encouraged you to cross a line you didn’t want to cross.” I walk out without giving him a chance to speak. I don’t want to know what his response would have been.

Instead, I go home, nursing my wounded pride and bruised ego. At least I have hot memories of my sexy next-door neighbour to console me.

ChapterTen

Euan

I’ve made a mistake.

It turns out it’s not the mistake I thought I’d made.

It wasn’t a mistake to kiss Cameron. It wasn’t a mistake to let him feed me cupcakes. It wasn’t a mistake to take him to bed.

It was a mistake to tell him it had to be a one-off. To make excuses about his dad or his age. All right, maybe they’re not excuses, but do they need to be obstacles?

I haven’t stopped thinking about Cameron. Every morning, I’ve woken up from erotic dreams about our encounter, my cock hard as a rod. I wanted to talk to him but told myself there wasn’t a good time. When I drop Peter off before I go to work in the morning? No. The boys are there. When I pick Peter up after work in the evening? No. The boys are there. I haven’t even made eye contact with him because I know if I do, I’ll want to kiss him.

I was a coward when I told him our post-cupcake encounter had to be a one-off. Now I’m patheticanda coward.

It’s Friday evening. It’s been a long two weeks. Usually, I leave work promptly on a Friday, but tonight, knowing Cameron was taking the boys to their sleepover party, I stayed late and got all my marking and planning for the following week done. It’ll be good to take the whole weekend off for a change.

It’s almost seven when I arrive home. By some miracle, I’m able to park outside my house, right in front of Cameron’s car. I stay in my car, staring at his house. Lewis’s house. What would he think of me and Cameron hooking up? What would he say if we wanted more? Not that I have any reason to hope for more. Or rather, I can hope but not expect. I upset Cameron with my cowardice. Why would he want anything to do with me now?

With a sigh, I gather my things and get out of the car. I hesitate at the end of the path to my front door. I could talk to Cameron. Explain I was wrong. Tell him I miss him. Let him know I still want him. But why would he listen? I straighten my back, roll my shoulders, and lift my chin. I’m being a defeatist. A pessimist. What was it Cameron said? I’m a drama teacher, so I should be an optimist. I’m still not sure I follow his logic, but his words—and the earnest expression on his face—captivated me. He’s captivating.

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