Page 30 of Challenge
“You do it sometimes. I know you’re not trying to be patronising, but I just need you to promise.”
“Okay, I promise.”
I drop the bomb. “I’m up in Camden Harris’ VIP suite.”
“Why? Did something happen to him?” Her voices raises with alarm.
“No.”
“Then why are you there?”
I drop the second bomb. “I’m sleeping with him.”
“You had sex with him?” she squeals, her voice louder than before.
“Stop shouting! Oh my God, you’re going to wake up Stanley,” I groan. “And no. I didn’t have sex with him. I stayed in his room with him last night and slept in the chair, but tonight he convinced me to sleep in his bed. I was trying to just sleep with him, but I can’t sleep because that’s all we’re doing.”
“I’m so confused.”
“I don’t know how it happened, but it did. He knows I’m a virgin. He knows I want to have sex with him, but we’re waiting.”
“For what? The operating room?”
“Belle!” I growl. “Be serious. I know this sounds crazy. But he’s so hot and he’s actually kind of fun, and he’s really persuasive and charming. Somehow he got me to stay in his room last night. Then he was nervous about the surgery, so I said I’d sleep with him again tonight. But I can’t sleep because all I keep thinking about is the fact that everything we’ve been doing for the last forty-eight hours is very Un-penis Number One. I’m breaking the rules, Belle, and I’m terrified that this is going to mess up more than just my Penis List!” I drop the final bomb and it feels like a stinker.
“Got it. Okay, hang on a tick. It’s like I just found out Mary Poppins was a pedophile.”
“What?”
“I’m processing. My sweet, perfect student, Indie Porter, has gone rogue on me. You skipped like eighteen steps, darling. I thought we made this list and these rules so you would know exactly what to do.”
“Well! He’s really charming.” I sigh heavily and listen to her breathe in and out for what feels like forever.
“Okay. It’s going to be okay.” Her voice is confident and resolute.
“It is?”
“Yes. I decreed it and so shall it be. You’re worried he’s being too nice? Like he’s not Penis Number One material? Don’t. I’ve been Googling him since he came in. There’s this entire hate mail blog post from that model he was dating last month about how he fucked her over. She doesn’t actually state his name, but you don’t have to be a genius to know who Hamden Carris is.”
“What did the article say?” The inner voice in my head wants to know what he could have possibly done for her to publicly smear him like that.
“Indie! It doesn’t matter. You need him to be a dog. I’m telling you, he’s a player. Don’t get attached. Caring about what happened to some leggy, jilted blonde is irrelevant.
“Furthermore, if you can’t sleep, get the hell out of there now. Nothing needs to mess up your ability to operate tomorrow. He’s asleep. You’ve coddled him. Your customer service job is done. Leave so you can get your head straight and be ready for this surgery. He won’t care. You’re an innocent virgin unicorn…He’d be a fool to walk away from you.”
“Okay.” I swallow hard. “Bloody hell, you give good advice at one in the morning.”
“Well, I hadn’t gone to sleep quite yet.”
“Do I want to know?” I ask nervously.
“No.”
“Okay,” I reply with relief. My shit sandwich is large enough without adding her drama to it. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
She huffs a laugh into the line. “I couldn’t be more proud of you. Now get out of there.”
I creep out of the bathroom and throw on my trainers. Cam’s still out cold, but before walking out the door, I decide to leave him a note—something he’ll see in hopes he doesn’t think I’ve changed my mind about the Penis Number One thing.
