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Over the next week, I talked myself into and out of going with Cam about a million times. Right up to the moment I packed a weekender bag, I wavered back and forth. It wasn’t until I was sitting beside him in his truck Wednesday morning when I realized I was really doing this.
“Are you sure your parents are okay with this?”
Cam nodded. I’d only asked the question around a hundred times.
I started nibbling on my thumb. “And you did actually call them and ask, right?”
He slid me a sideway look. “No.”
My jaw hit me lap. “Cam!”
Tipping his head back, he laughed deeply. “I’m kidding. Chill out, Avery. I told them the day after you said you’d go. They know you’re coming and they’re excited to meet you.”
Glaring at him, I went back to chewing on my nail. “That wasn’t funny.”
He laughed again. “Yes, it was.”
“Jerk.”
“Nerd.”
I stared out the passenger window. “Bitch-ass.”
“Oh.” Cam whistled. “Them be fighting words. Keep it up and I’ll turn this truck around.”
I grinned as we hit I70. “Sounds like a good idea.”
“You’d be distraught and in tears.” There was a pause. He reached over, pulling my hand away from my mouth. “Stop doing that.”
“Sorry.” I glanced at him. “It’s a bad habit.”
“It is.” He threaded his fingers through mine, and my heart skipped a beat. Our joined hands rested on my thigh, and I wasn’t sure what to think about that. “My sister won’t be home until early tomorrow morning. She’s doing a show in Pittsburg tonight.”
“What kind of show?” My gaze flicked from our hands to the window and back again.
“I think it’s a ballet recital.”
My attention was focused partly on the weight of his hand in mine. “Is ballet her favorite?”
“I think it’s a mix between that and contemporary.”
Contemporary used a lot of ballet and it would make sense that she’d like a mixture of those. Cam eventually let go of my hand, which was a good thing because I was sure my palm was starting to sweat and that was just gross. The two hour drive went by way too fast. It seemed like minutes had passed by the time he got off the interstate and entered a small, hilly town that seemed to have been built into the side of the mountain.
And boy were we smack dab in the middle of mountaineer country. From every store front hung a WVU flag, as did the porches of the small homes. We continued through the town and out onto country roads that looked like they’d just been paved recently.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this nervous. My stomach roiled as he slowed and hooked a right, onto what seemed like a private road crowded with tall oak trees. My mouth was completely dry as he rounded a bend and a large, stately manor came into view.
It wasn’t so much that it was a huge house. The thing was big—colonial style, white pillars in the front, and three stories, but it reminded me so much of my parents’ home. Cold and perfect on the outside and mostly likely the same on the inside.
Cam followed the driveway behind the house and I got a closer view of the manicured lawn and beautiful, rustic landscaping. I swallowed, but my throat wasn’t really working. He pulled in next to a detached garage that was probably the size of a small ranch style home. Beyond the garage, I could see a covered, in-ground pool.
