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“Maybe you should sit down, Avery.”
“I’m okay.” Wiggling free, I moved around the table carefully, just in case it decided to move on me. The nervous energy buzzed along with the alcohol. I tugged my sweater off my skin, feeling hot. “So… what did you want to do? I can, um, turn on the TV or put a movie in, but I don’t have any movies. I guess I can order one from—”
“Avery, just sit down for a little while.”
Instead of doing that, I picked up a fallen pillow and placed it on the couch. Straightening was a little difficult, but I flitted over to the moon chair. “You don’t think it’s hot in here?”
Amusement filled his blue eyes. “How much did you drink?”
“Um…” I had to really think about that. “Not much—maybe like two or three shots of tequila aaand two beers? I think.”
“Oh wow.” Cam leaned forward, his lips tipping into a grin. “When’s the last time you’ve really drank?”
“Halloween night,” I blurted.
He looked confused. “I didn’t see you drink Halloween night.”
“Not this past Halloween night.” I stood, tugging on my sleeves and my fingers brushed the bracelet. “It was… five years ago.”
“Whoa. That’s a long time.” He scooted forward and then stood. “You got water in here? Bottled?”
“In the kitchen,” I said, wetting my lips.
He disappeared and reappeared pretty quickly, handing a bottle over. “You should drink this.”
I took it, but wasn’t thirsty.
“So that made you, what? Fourteen? Fifteen?” He sat back down on the edge of the couch.
“Fourteen,” I whispered, my gaze dropping to where his hands hung between his knees.
“That’s really young to be drinking.”
Sweat dotted my forehead. Sitting the bottle down, I picked up a hair tie from the coffee table and pulled my hair up into a messy bun. “Yeah, you didn’t drink when you were fourteen?”
A little grin appeared. “I snuck a beer or two at fourteen, but I thought your parents were strict?”
I snorted as I dropped into the moon chair. “I don’t want to talk about them or drinking or Halloween.”
“Okay.”
Feeling sweaty, I tugged my sweater up. It got stuck around my head for a second and then finally, I got the itchy material off. Knocking the loose strands of hair out of my face, I glanced over at Cam. You’d think I didn’t have a tank top on underneath by the way he was staring at me, but it was more than that.
I stood once more, wanting to be far away from that conversation, because Cam was looking at me again like he was seeing more than I was showing. I thought about how he’d looked when he saw the scar on my wrist and outside minutes before.
It was the same look.
Like he was piecing together a puzzle and the pieces were starting to fit. For some reason, through my disorganized thoughts, I thought about Teresa and how he was when he’d realized she was talking to a guy. He’d taken protective older brother to a whole new level. Had she…?
I shook my head and pushed those thoughts away, because it made me think of how there hadn’t been anyone looking out for me.
But I didn’t want him looking at me like that. I didn’t need him to watch out for me, to worry about what I was doing or what would happen. I needed him to…
Look at me the way he had the first night he’d kissed me and then again in the bed at his parents house. I wanted him to see me like that.
“What are you doing?”
I stopped in-between the kitchen and hallway. My fingers were curled around the edges of my tank top, and there was a different kind of interest in his stare, a keen wariness. My heart was racing and my thoughts were crashing into one another. I liked Cam—a lot. Even if it was crazy and doomed for heartbreak. My heart already hurt. And I’d missed him and he missed me and he was here now when he could be with his friends, with Steph.
