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“Good,” I say. “Because everything he taught me, I learned for you. I wanted you then, and I want you now. I’ve only ever wanted you.”
He sucks in a breath.
I pull him close and kiss his forehead. Sex with Cameron is better than with anyone else. I’m not missing something anymore. With Cameron, I’m complete.
But as I hold him, a sadness settles over me.
Will Cameron ever want me as much as I want him?
I’m not sure it’s possible.
DECEMBER
23
CAMERON
The snow falls in thick, wet flakes when we round the corner onto fraternity row, our breath forming clouds in the December air. I had convinced Liam to come with me to one of the most legendary Greek houses for their Eighties Winter Rager without telling him it was Lucien’s frat house that was hosting.
Inside the red-brick, white-pillared house, neon red and blue lights cast an electric glow as the room throbs with sound and heat. Blondie’s “Call Me” blasts from the speakers, and Liam and I make our way to the makeshift bar set up in what must be the study. It’s quieter here, or at least quiet enough that I can hear Liam’s voice when he leans in close to ask me another question about Lucien. I take another sip from my Solo cup to steady my nerves because Liam won’t stop asking questions.
“So did you confront him?” Liam asks. His breath smells like vodka. “Did you tell Lucien to fuck off?”
I adjust my stance and stare into my cup. “Yeah. I mean, we talked.”
“And?”
“What?”
“What’s his excuse for catfishing you? For using pictures of his own sister? That’s so fucked up, Cam. Like, genuinely psychotic.”
“He apologized,” I say into my cup.
“He apologized?” Liam scoffs. “And you’re just…what, cool with it now?”
“I didn’t say I was cool with it.”
“You don’t seem that upset.” Liam’s eyes narrow, studying me in the blue light. “You seem…weird about it.”
I take another sip. A long one. “I’m not weird about it.”
“You are though. You’re being weird right now.” He leans closer. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing. I’m not— There’s nothing.”
“Cam.”
“Liam, just drop it, okay?”
“No, I’m not going to drop it.” His hand lands on my shoulder, an expression of his concern. “This guy manipulated you—” He stops, shaking his head and dropping his hand. “And now you’re acting like everything’s fine? That doesn’t make sense.”
I open my mouth to respond, but before I speak, Lucien is suddenly there. I don’t know how long he’s been standing next to us or how he appeared so silently, but I don’t react with surprise or discomfort.
His eyes find mine in the blue light, and they’re direct, unwavering. His face is angles and shadow, but composed. There’s something he’s not saying aloud, a question.
I take a sip of my drink, holding his gaze. We don’t say anything. We don’t need to. I can feel the conversation happening between us, silent and electric.
Did you tell him?
