Page 51 of Most Valuable Player
I figure he’s about to burst into laughter, but his voice comes in a dark mutter, and his frosty words scrape my ear. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to.” It’s none of his business. But when I try prying out of his grip again, he spins me at the waist, so I’m chest to chest with him, his warm breath unfurling against my forehead. I try looking past his shoulder, but he bumps my chin up with his index knuckle, directing my gaze to his stern one.
“Explain.”
“Why should I?” I ask irritably. Our proximity is so distracting I can barely piece together a coherent thought. If he wants to banter with me, I’ll be useless. His lips, sleek and pink, are enticingly close.All it would take to kiss this annoying jock would be to rise to my tiptoes.
“You’re my prisoner until you tell me,” he says casually.
I scoff, steering my eyes away from his once again. “I don’t even get a trial?”
His arm tightens around my waist, and heat flourishes up my neck and into my ears. I snap my hands against his chest, trying to keep a few inches of distance between us. Even if his body heat is comfortable.
“Why do you think people get the wrong idea when you smile?” he asks.
I groan, my head slumping back with exasperation. Why does he care so much? “My smile is too suggestive,” I mutter. “Too flirty. It’s not that complicated.”
Cameron’s eyes are so wide they look ready to pop out of his head. “Where would you get that idea? Your mom?”
“Of course not,” I growl, and I shove him, squirming in his grip. Finally, his arms drop, freeing me. “Let it go. Now let’s find the exit.”
Cameron’s brows are pinched and his face is wrinkled with displeasure. “Whoever said that about your smile is wrong,” he says. “You’ve got a really nice, warm smile. It lights up your whole miserable face. So stop hiding it.”
He says this so casually, like he doesn’t know how heavy his words are. How deeply they dig. Snippets of conversations from long ago tickle my ears, always lingering in times of self-doubt.
Honestly, Mason, can I even trust you?
How can you lead someone on like that right in front of me?
Maybe you’re too young to realize what that look says to someone.
There’s a football-sized lump swelling in my throat. “Noted,” I whisper. “Let’s go.”
Cameron remains stubbornly rooted for another few seconds. Buthe concedes, following after me, then inching in front of me, like he’s willing to take the brunt of whatever’s going to lunge out despite clearly being more scared than me.
“I don’t know how this stuff doesn’t get to you,” he chokes out, still reeling half a minute after someone revs another chain saw nearby.
“It’s not that scary,” I mumble. The tall corn, people jumping out, cliché sounds of horror movies played on echoing speakers throughout the maze. None of it is comparable.
The moment Cameron suddenly reached for me flickers through my mind. Followed by the barest trace of a memory I’ve been shaving away. I’ve forgotten most of it, or what led up to it, because nothing matters but the fact that my own mistake is what caused it. The first time it happened. And all the times after that.
I’m good at unintentionally riling him up. Eventually, I learned what the “triggers” were for this rare side of him, and that I held the key to unlocking them all. My smile was the biggest one.
So if I hide it where nobody but him can see, I can throw that key away.
My smile belongs to him. And that’s okay. He can have it if it means he’ll stay happy.
Why wouldn’t I want my fiancé to stay happy?
Journal #4—July 14
We got into a fight. We were paying our bill and I was talking to the server. When we got to the car, he asked me if I go around flirting with everyone like that. I’m like??? EXCUSE ME. He said it was obvious I liked her because of how I was smiling. I told him I was just being polite, but he said this isn’t the first time it’s happened? WHAT.
I don’t understand so I don’t know how to make it better. He won’t respond to my texts. Guess I need to figure something out. He doesn’t ask for much, so I’ll try to make him happy. I don’t want to be ungrateful or immature since he’s done so much for me.
We spent yesterday at his place. Mom loves going over there and talking about what she’d change if she had money. She comes from a poor family so it’s her dream to make it big.
Dad still gets this weird look on his face when he sees us together. He muttered something about the age of consent the other day. But that doesn’t even matter if your boyfriend won’t let you touch him anywhere that matters, right? Like, come on. I have BEGGED this man to fuck me and he won’t. He’s a gentleman.
