Page 103 of Challenge
Scoring my first goal as a Gunner felt like a million pounds.
Realising I love Indie Porter…felt like a billion.
THE DELICIOUS SCENT OF COFFEEinvades my sleep, rousing me in the way only a fresh cup can. I crack my eyes open and see a very sexy hand holding a very cute mug in my face. I smile and sit up.
“What’s this?” I ask, taking the pink mug from Camden and eyeing the thick black text on the side that says:These Glasses Make Me Look Sexy.
He sits down beside my legs as I lean back against the headboard. Waking up with Camden still gives me butterflies. Seeing him almost every day still makes me smile. Snuggling him in bed doesn’t make me uncomfortable anymore. It makes me happy.
The more time I spend with him, the more comfortable I become with this whole lack-of-space business. Any time I feel myself pulling away, Camden has an uncanny way of turning things dirty and making me forget all about that separation I thought I needed.
Cuddling isn’t so bad when you just let yourself enjoy it instead of mentally freaking out over the after effects. And since I no longer care about my Penis List plan, I’ve realised that Cam gives me all the Tequila Sunrise life experiences I could ever want.
We’ve even got his littleritualdown for the mornings he has to go to practise or matches. Apparently it was a solo job before I came along, but Cam says making me a part of his visualisation technique is sure to make him the best striker Arsenal has ever seen. I don’t mind, even if he does like to shout “Goal!” after he comes.
God, he really is a pig.
I smirk around a sip of the coffee he brought me and eye him appreciatively propped on the edge of the bed. He’s dressed in a soft white cotton T-shirt that he seems to have an endless supply of and a pair of jersey shorts that reveal his muscular thighs.
“Didn’t like me using the standard black coffee mug anymore?” I ask.
“I thought it was time you had your own,” he exhales heavily. “We’ve been together for three months now, you know.”
“Three months? When did you start counting?”
“You were mine the day of my injury, Specs. You just didn’t know it yet.” He leans over and kisses my forehead, sliding his fingers through my hair as he drops more kisses all the way down to my neck. “You look good with my coffee in your hand.”
I frown. “You’re so weird about coffee. The first time I came here and your sister gave me some, I thought your head was going to explode.”
He squints at me thoughtfully for a moment before standing up and striding over to his dresser. When he returns, he’s holding an intricately carved keepsake box. He opens it up and sifts through several sheets of loose leaf paper until he finds the one he wants.
Holding it out to me with a nervous twinge in his eyes, he murmurs, “It’s a poem my mum wrote.” My eyes fall to the paper scribed with carefully written words by a woman he knew very little before she died. “Read it,” he instructs.
Your Favourite Girl’s Cuppa
When you handed me that cup,
you handed me your heart.
When you inhaled that roast,
you inhaled our first start.
When you laughed around a sip,
you soared into my mind.
When you poured me some more,
I gave you all the love I could find.
Coffee is more than a cup of caffeine.
Coffee is the drink you sip from for dreams.
Coffee makes moments more than a scene.
Coffee makes love become everything.
