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I know my dad’s running the team hard. He wants to win the state championship this year, has talked of nothing else all season long in fact.
“Thanks.” Cam takes the notes and looks them over, his brow furrowed. “Wait, the main guy—Gatsby—gets killed in the end? And he never gets the girl?”
I nod, take another bite of sandwich. “Correct.”
“Seems like a bummer.”
“It’s tragic. But that’s what makes it great. The novel’s a harsh critique of the American Dream.”
“Hmm. That’s a real downer, Sloane. I like happy endings.” His marine eyes slide to mine and I’m suddenly lightheaded.
“Yeah, me too.” I swallow hard, acutely aware of the thudding of my heart. I hope Cam can’t hear it through the quiet.
He leans forward, the rough pad of his thumb brushing my bottom lip.
“You have a crumb.”
“Oh.” Heat floods my system, the skin at the side of my mouth burning where he made contact. “Thanks.”
The word’s a whisper, barely audible over the thrum of the air conditioning.
“Listen—after the game on Friday, you want to go out to the bonfire at the lake? A bunch of the guys from the team are going. You and Gracelyn should come.”
He inches away from me, crumpling his brown paper bag into a tight ball and firing it into the trash can across the room. The ball disappears into the can and he pumps his fists in the air, victorious.
“Yes! A perfect shot.” Cam grins at me, his perfect white teeth flashing in the fluorescent light of the weight room.
“Yeah, we can probably make it.”
“Probably?” He cocks his eyebrow, the scar above his right eye rising. “C’mon, Trouble—it’s one of the last bonfires of the season. We don’t have many left together.”
He reaches out, covering my small hand with his huge one and squeezing. “Please, Trouble.”
His marine eyes lock on mine, wide and pleading, and my heart contracts.
How can I say no to him?
Because he’s right—we don’t have much time left together before we head our separate ways. It’s our senior year; after this, everything changes, for both of us.
Just thinking about it makes my chest ache.
“Yes, Cam. I’ll go.”
“Good. You know I’ll breathe easier with you there.”
That makes one of us.
Because when Cam’s around, I’m a mess. Four years together and he still has the same effect on me as the day we met.
Breathless.
The bell rings, the shrill clang bouncing off the metal weight equipment and the spell between us is broken. Cam hops up, grabbing both of our backpacks, looping his arm around my shoulders.
Light. Easy. Casual.
The absolute walking definition offriend zoned.
Cam Crawford’s the love of my life, but there’s no way I’d ever tell him.
