Page 26 of Most Valuable Player
“Interesting,” I say through my mouthful of Swiss. Are my “fake” smiles that obvious? “Maybe I don’t have a lot of confidence. You wouldn’t get it, being the most arro—ah, confident person in town.”
He doesn’t catch the jab, sadly. It’s cute when he notices I’m making fun of him. “What’s there not to be confident about?” he asks, framing his face with his hands.
Changing the subject around Cameron Morelli is easy. “Have you always been this way?” I ask, nonchalant. “I don’t know how you’re so self-assured.”
Cameron’s eyes flicker with apprehension, like I’ve caught him in a lie, and his fingers press deeper into his burger, squeezing juice out of his patties. “Of course,” he snaps.
“Nobody knows who you were before ninth grade,” I point out. Though, I can’t imagine Cameron being anything other thanthis.
“I was perfectly fine and mentally stable,” he says sharply. He shoots me a menacing glare, daring me to contradict him, before promptly changing the subject himself. “Are you coming over to see my workout equipment or not?”
Oh. I’m surprised he’s following up on that—I guess his offer was genuine. “There’s no reason to,” I mumble. “I don’t have equipment, so even if you came up with a regimen, I couldn’t practice it.”
“You could. You’d just have to come over after every study session,” he says, shrugging.
I tilt my head in bafflement. Cameron Morelli keeps startling me today. “I thought you preferred to spend as little time around me as possible,” I say with a knowing smile. “Who are you and what have you done with the real Ca—”
“IamCam Morelli,” he snarls, so harsh and heated and sudden that instinctively, I reel away from him, my eyes widening. I’m not sure where his unexpected intensity came from.
“Sorry,” I hear myself say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
You didn’t mean to what?a voice mutters in my ears.You know you’ve done something wrong, but do you know what? What are you apologizing for, Mason?
Cameron must notice my change in expression because he relaxes as suddenly as he tightened, his brawny shoulders loosening, his contorted face leveling. “Sorry,” he grumbles. “I didn’t mean to snap.”
I watch his hands, unresponsive. They’re clawing into the knees of his jeans.
“Anyway, yeah,” he says, holding his chin high as he reclaims his grip on his burger. “Of course I want to spend as little time with you as possible. Why would I want to be around someone who’d rather get lobotomized than go out with me?”
My eyes nearly roll into the back of my head. Apparently, Cameron believes the only reason someone could reject him is because theyhave a deep, unfounded loathing for him. “What would it take for you to stop claiming I hate you?” I ask wearily.
“Prove you don’t.” He smirks like he’s got me cornered.
I knead the bridge of my nose. What’s something I could do to appease Cameron Morelli? I don’t want to get closer to him right now when he’s probably still riled up, but I also don’t have other ideas. So I say, “Come here.”
“Why?” Cameron demands, though he lowers his face so it’s a foot from mine. At this distance, I can more clearly see the smattering of colors in his irises, the long lashes, the hairs in disarray on his golden-brown brows. “So you can look into my eyes as you tell me how much you’d rather get your hand slammed in a car door than—”
I lean forward and kiss his greasy cheek.
His sentence disintegrates. He blinks, eyes widening with perplexity.
“I,” I say calmly, grabbing his chin, my stern gaze locking with his. “Do. Not. Hate. You.”
Cameron’s stare flicks between my pupils. A split second later, he’s reeling back and smacking his head against the booth. “The hell?” he chokes out.
I return to my burger and bite a chunk to avoid bursting into laughter.
Cameron doesn’t whine about me hating him for the rest of the study session.
Chapter Nine
Cam
Mom and Dad are at work, thank Christ, because I can’t fathom how they’d react to me bringing home a Disney prince like Mason. I get the “can’t resist a cute face” flaw frombothof those losers, and Mason has one of the most aesthetically pleasing faces I’ve ever seen. Every time I look at that twerp, despite the emotional trauma he’s given me, I’mstillhopelessly mesmerized.
The studying itself is fine. I guess. I’m pretty distracted, and Mason notices, constantly asking me what I’m thinking about and redirecting me to the subject I’m working on. Now that I know how effective a tutor Mason is, and how grounding his presence is, I’m certain my grades are going to steadily improve. I’m getting closer to being on the field, showing off my skills to the scout who’s been following Darius.
It should be elating. So why does my skin itch, and why is my stomach sinking?
