Page 44 of Most Valuable Player
“I’d rather swallow it.”
“Cameron Morelli, you cruel, selfish tyrant.”
Cameron grimaces at me. “You’re more annoying when you’re drunk,” he snaps.
“What? No, no, you’re just being funnier than usual,” I tell him,smiling wider behind my hands. “Sometimes it’s fun to poke you like a water balloon and watch you dance.”
I’m probably being insufferable, confirmed when he literally starts squirming with aggravation beside me, like he’s resisting the urge to push me off the bed. “I genuinely can’t believe I have to lie here and accept your verbal violence,” he mutters.
“Find a way to shut me up,” I suggest.
Cameron gives me such a suspicious look that I dissolve into laughter again. This only worsens when he flatly says, “Give me your wet sock. I want to see how far back into your mouth I can shove it.”
I gasp, trying to sound offended, but follow this up with another uncontainable grin. “Cameron Morelli, how vulgar of you.”
“Can you stop saying my full name? It’s creeping me the fuck out,” he snaps, and it revs up my fit of laughter once again. As I struggle to breathe, I can’t help but notice that he’s shifted onto his side toward me, his head braced in his propped palm, and he’s staring at the hands concealing my mouth. Like he’s trying to see through them.
“Oh, Cameron Morelli,” I say wistfully, to which he spits a cuss at me. “I think you’re not the big, goofy jock you say you are.”
He huffs in protest. “What would you call me, then, if not a sexy jock with a great ass?”
“I’ve never called you that,” I remind him. “Not once.”
“You’ve probably thought it, though.”
Which is beside the point. “You surprise me,” I admit, snuggling deeper into the bed, the tremors of uncontrollable laughter finally fading away. Though, I still can’t seem to get warm after my kiss with the lake. “You open your mouth and I think you’re going to talk about how many people you’ve dicked, but then you say something thoughtful. Or I think you’ll make our study location at some arena, but you take me somewhere with vegetarian options you’ve already tested.”
Cameron scoffs like I insulted him. “It’s normal behavior.”
“Going out of your way for someone else is thoughtful. Taking me to Burger King is thoughtful. Spending the night with me is thoughtful.” My voice fractures over the last sentence, and I realize my eyes are stinging. Oh no. I’m not going to cry again, am I?
Cameron’s expression softens like warming chocolate. “Hey, water boy.”
“Mm?”
“Who hurt you?”
I stare at him. He stares back, perfectly nonchalant.
“Why would you ask something like that?” I mutter, twisting onto my back to return my gaze to the ceiling. Does he think we’re suddenly best friends because we’ve spent a few hours together? Does he not realize how invasive he sounds?
“You’ve been wild tonight,” he says, unfazed by my annoyance. He’s still propped up on his elbow, facing me, waiting for me to look at him. It won’t happen. “I don’t think you’re acting like yourself.”
I squirm so my back is to him, glaring at the darkened canvases nailed to the wall. “And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” I ask coldly.
He doesn’t answer for a while. I’ve probably irritated him with that comment. But I still feel him eyeing me, like he’s hoping I’ll blurt a tragic backstory to him in my drunkenness. “Look, don’t say anything you’re uncomfortable with,” he says, reading my mind, “but it seems like you could use a talk. I’m here, so I thought I’d offer myself up.”
There he goes again, this big annoying quarterback, saying coherent sentences that aren’t about how amazing he is. I’m trying to stay bothered, but he’s being patient, and that’s not something I’m used to.
What would I even tell him? I doubt he wants to sit through alcohol-induced rambling about a person he’s never met. Yet I still feel I owe him an explanation, since I ruined his Friday night by becoming a sloppy mess at the party. He took care of me. And he also shared a part of himself with me the other day during our workout session. So maybe if I just tell him a little tiny bit of the whole truth…
“Oh,” Cameron says. “Your chain broke.”
My elevated heart rate comes to a grating stop. I flip over.
“Here.” He plucks something off the bed, dangling it so I can see the damage. “The clasp must’ve caught on your pillow.”
I try focusing on the necklace, but my vision blurs in and out, and my airway is sealed.
