Page 29 of Curious Cameron
Cameron gets closer. I can feel his breath along my neck.
"I know I can do it now. And I could never hate you, Trev. Not after everything you've done for me."
My stomach twists. This whole conversation should be reassuring, but I can't help but feel…I don't know. Cameron's not the only one haunted by confusion about why he's into what he's into. I've got a ghost in my ear too. All those worries about being a monster and doubts about whether I'm doing right by Cameron.
"I'm more excited than nervous," Cameron whispers in the dark. "I hope I do okay. I hope I'm…good for you."
"You're gonna do great, Cam. We'll all have fun." I wrap my arm around Cameron's smaller form. His skinny body. So much more fragile and vulnerable compared to me. "I'm so proud of you and I'll always…take care of you. No matter what happens."
Love him.
I want to tell Cameron I'll always love him, but that word has taken on an entirely new meaning now. This is beyond friendship or lust. There's nothing convenient about the new level of love I have for him. The feeling gets stuck in my throat and refuses to dislodge itself.
“Hey, about tomorrow?” Cameron clears his throat as he cuddles close, using my chest as his pillow.
I keep my eyes closed, but I’m still listening. “Yeah?”
“Could we do it in the living room?” he asks. “I don’t want Marlon here. In the bedroom. I dunno why. I guess it’s just—”
I squeeze the back of Cameron’s neck before I run my fingers through his hair. “You don’t gotta explain, Cam. We’ll keep the show confined to the living room. About time we break in the sofa, yeah?”
We both chuckle though it’s no laughing matter.
I agree with Cameron. The bed is just for us.
Chapter 12
Cameron
"Will you taste this?" I ask while I lift the spoon to Trevor's face. Creamy tomato pasta the sequel. Still not homemade, but I have repeated Julian's recipe and put two cups of real diced tomatoes alongside the can. "I want to make sure it tastes right."
Trevor ducks his head to avoid the taste test I try to push on him. "It'll taste great, Cam. It smells great already."
True to his word, we're cooking the meal together. Trevor's taken over the creation of the salad. Instead of trying the pasta, he tides himself over crunching on croutons.
I take a nibble of what's on the spoon instead. The noodle I test out still tastes a little…grainy. Julian said it was important not to cook them too long. Or too short. Either way could ruin the dish. And I can't have that. Not tonight.
This is the night, after all.
Marlon's coming over for dinner.
"You puttering around the kitchen cooking up a storm is hot," Trevor comments. He's been like this ever since he got off work. Friendly and flirty. He keeps complimenting me. And touching me. "Maybe we should get you one of those aprons, you know? The kind you don't gotta wear anything underneath."
Trevor's arm wraps around my waist and he squeezes me. I almost drop the spoon into the sizzling skillet.
"Instead of kiss-the-cook, it could say spank-the-twink."
"Don't," I say while smiling ear to ear, "you're teasing me."
I squirm against Trevor's grabby fingers and protest his provocative joke, but I don't try to get away. Or stop him. My stomach might be full of butterflies and I'm nervous as hell, but this is fun.
"Should I make some bread to go with it?" I don't even know why I'm asking Trevor. Of course we should. "I'll make some bread."
"Make sure to put a lot of butter," Trevor comments with a quick chuckle. "Marlon's southern, remember. Butter is practically a food group for him. He puts that shit on everything."
The front doorbell rings.
"Show time," Trevor grins at me. He squeezes my shoulder and plants a quick kiss on my cheek before leaving the kitchen. I let the pasta cook for longer and focus on the bread. Lots of butter. Lots of garlic salt. I turn the oven onto broil and set the bread inside the oven before returning to the pasta.
