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“There’s something else,” I tell her, and she frowns.
“What’s that?”
“We’re going to have to kiss and touch each other,” I point out, and Cameron freezes. “I think we should start practicing now so that we’re used to it by the time she gets here.”
“I… I guess you’re right,” she admits, and I study her to see how she feels about that, but her mask is on and I can’t read her.
“Cameron, are you almost done? We just had a big group come in,” Monica says as she rushes into the break room.
“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” she says.
Monica rushes back out and we both stand. I reach out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and Cameron stares at me in shock.
“I’m going to have to practice a lot,” I whisper. “We can’t have you looking so shocked every time I touch you.”
She nods and my heart leaps in my chest.
Maybe my plan to win my girl over is already working.
“I should get back to work,” she rasps, and I nod.
“I’ll come out and help in a minute.”
She nods and hurries out. I wait until she’s gone to drag my hands through my hair and try to get myself under control. Then I turn and follow after my woman.
I can’t help but think this fake dating might just be the best thing to happen to me. Now to show Cameron that we should remove the word fake from our relationship.
FOUR
Cameron
“Grams!”I call as I jog outside to greet her.
“There’s my favorite granddaughter,” she answers, and I laugh.
“I’m your only granddaughter,” I say, and we share a smile.
We’ve been greeting each other the same way since I was a little kid. My mom is my grandma’s youngest daughter, and we were close growing up. She practically raised me since my parents were both always working.
When I graduated high school, she left town and went down south. She comes back every few months for a visit, but I don’t get to see her nearly as much as I’d like to.
“I like your new place,” she says as we head to the house. “It’s cute.”
“It’s tiny, basically a closet,” I correct, and she laughs.
“It’s the perfect size,” she tells me, patting my hand as I support her up the front porch steps.
I open the door for us and lead her into the living room. My house really is tiny, and you can see the kitchen, both bedrooms, and the bathroom from the living room.
“I like how you decorated it, but where are all of your paintings?” My grandma asks.
“They’re in the spare bedroom right now. I set it up as my art room after Ruby moved out.”
“I’d love to see it.”
“Let me get your bags and then I’ll show you around.”
I jog out to her car and grab her suitcase out of the back of her car. She’s still driving the same old maroon Buick LeSabre that she’s had for as long as I can remember. My grandpa bought her the car before he passed, and I know that’s why she’s still so attached to it.
