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“You said you wanted to forget about a call. What kind are you expecting?” Cameron pulls me from concentrating on my upcoming confrontation with my glamma and the mayor, and a possible jail sentence if I follow through on my bloodthirsty thoughts.
His topic of choice isn’t much better, but I grab onto it for the distraction it is.
“The night we met, do you remember the reason I gave for trying to get back into the club?” I sneak a peek at Cameron then stare aimlessly for anything else to focus on.
I have choices. The noise from children playing on the playground, men and women strolling the small downtown area for lunch, a woman walking six well-behaved dogs of varying breeds, a group of cyclists, or the family on their way up the library stairs.
I jolt when Cameron places a comforting hand over mine and laces our fingers together. His touch helps me to stop fidgeting and I breathe out a pent-up breath I didn’t know I was holding. This isn’t the first time he’s silently offered his support and I can’t help my immediate response to tighten our fingers. His hands seem large enough to handle the world’s weighty problems, so my issues should be easy.
“If I remember correctly, you mentioned leaving something for an important meeting you had the next day.” He circles my knuckles when I don’t immediately respond.
Tingles race along my skin, puckering my flesh and making my hair stand on end. In glancing at him, he has no ulterior motive. My body is unfortunately attuned to him and responds inappropriately. As much as I want to deny it, Cameron seems to be genuine in his curiosity.
It’s hard for me to reconcile this person with the man who demanded a blow job from a stranger. But, with my hand engulfed in his, I can imagine unloading my burdens, maybe even trusting him to share a little of myself with him.
Although silent, I feel Keating’s hard gaze on my nape. An admonition that there’s nothing wrong with opening up to Cameron, which prompts me to admit, “Yeah, that. The call I’m expecting is about that meeting. I’ve never been so close to fulfilling my dream, but this silence is nerve racking.” I slide free of his hold, immediately regretting the loss.
The muscle in Cameron’s jaw flexes but he doesn’t demand to hold my hand. I catch a brief glimpse of disappointment shadowing his eyes before he clears his expression. Could his actions be another sign that he isn’t working towards an end goal of getting me in bed?
He pauses his stride to face me. “Oh, I just assumed all the art in your studio was your ambition coming to fruition. With work like that, I can’t imagine anyone making you wait. Or that your inbox isn’t full of commissions.”
“What you’ve seen is only the tip of the iceberg. Although I still do commissions, I’m concentrating on my animated series.”
“What’s it about?”
Like a magical key, his words unlock the passion I’ve bottled up for the past few days. “It’s a fantasy series called The Secret Life of a Power User where my heroine, Nubia, is the most powerful power user. In her world, she must suppress her power to interact with regular folk or risk destroying everything. To top it off, there are influences from all over the African diaspora inherent in how power is channeled,” I say, loving to talk about my work and launching into an enthusiastic description of my current project.
I pause in the middle of my passionate pitch and smack my head. “Sorry, I’m doing it again. This is probably why the studio hasn’t called me.”
Cameron pulls my hand from my face and massages the area I hit. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re sorry about.”
His featherlight touch wreaks havoc on my senses. Coupled with the concern warming his green eyes, it takes me a few seconds to remember what we’re talking about.
“I get so excited when talking about my series that I don’t pay enough attention to everyone else when their eyes glaze over.”
“My eyes aren’t glazing over. Some of my favorite series are about the people with the most power in the world who have an off-putting attitude yet become super popular and no one knows they’re doing everything to protect the world from being destroyed.”
“Oh, wow. You totally get it.”
He shrugs with a deprecating smile. “I’m a fan of comics be they manga, manhwa, manhua, or western comics, not to mention the animated adaptations. From the sketches I’ve seen around your office, the studio you’re waiting on to call will absolutely reach out to you. You’re super talented and it sounds like you have a fresh concept. I can’t wait to see your work on TV.”
His words feed my soul and pump steroids into my chest, making it beat so hard I’m deaf to everything else. Cameron’s sincerity reaches out to me. Our faces are so close I can smell the mint he ate after lunch on his breath. Suddenly, the air is too thin and he’s too close.
I quickly step away and clear my throat. “Um, thanks for the vote of confidence.” I twist away from him and speed toward Town Hall’s quaint steeple building. Although what awaits me remains a mystery, the old building is a beacon of hope that I’ll hold out from falling victim to Cameron’s wiles.
Did you just say wiles? Are we in Regency England? Cameron isn’t some fuckboy doing fuckboy things. If you would just listen to him, give him a chance, you’ll see I’m right. I always am.
Keating’s annoying holier-than-thou voice is harder to ignore today, but I do. I’m not a risk taker, I can’t afford for her to be wrong or for me to make a misstep.
“Here, let me get that for you.” Cameron steps in front of me to open the door.
I shyly glance away with a mumbled, “Thank you.” A few steps inside and someone grabs my elbow and drags me down the hall while Cameron tries to keep up.
“Cheryl Lee?” I ask the mop of curly blond hair bouncing before me. “What do you think you’re doing?” I stop and snatch my arm away from her.
Cheryl Lee is a few years older than me. Even in this small town, we never had the same circle of friends. Based on the anger emanating from her body, one thing hasn’t changed; her issues were more important than everyone else’s, mine included.
“Now’s not the time to ask questions. You have to stop that woman.” Cheryl Lee regains her hold on my arm. Without ceremony, she barges into Mayor Salas’ office and the three of us come to a screeching halt.
