Page 43 of Not That Into You

Claire: Oooooooh. Someone just named the elephant in the room.

Et tu, Brute? This is ridiculous. There’s no elephant in the room. There’s no chemistry.

Hayley: And I’m out.

Claire: Ha ha! Me too. My hot boyfriend just got home.

I roll my eyes, though I can’t really blame Claire. I am, however, perplexed by their conclusion that there’s something between Cameron and me. Where would they get that idea? Until this weekend, we couldn’t stand to be around each other. And it’s taken a boatload of money and desperation to bring us together now.

I quickly type out a response.

Monica: Those are some powerful hallucinogens you all are taking. We didn’t hook up. Not gonna happen.

I’m about to put my phone back in my pocket when it vibrates with a new message. I hesitate, debating whether I want to know who said what.

Screw it.

Claire: Methinks the lady doth protest too much.

Monica: Screw you, Shakespeare.

Claire: Methinks I’m starting a betting pool. 10 bucks says they get naked before the weekend is over.

I should’ve known better. Shaking my head, I stuff my phone in my pocket and turn around, heading back.

Hopefully, Cameron has returned from wherever he disappeared to, and we can have breakfast.

As I near the house, I spot the surfer, presumably done for the day, walking out of the ocean, carrying his board. Even though he’s at a distance and wearing a wetsuit, I can tell he’s tall and fit.

He runs a hand through his hair, and I let out a sigh. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been on a date, since I’ve run my hands down a fine, male body. And this surfer seems like a good candidate.

The surfer spots me and changes direction, heading my way.

I suck in a breath. Did he notice me checking him out? I continue walking at a slow pace, focusing on acting casual.

But when he gets closer, I stop.

He grins as he walks up to me. “Good morning.”

“Hi, Cameron.”

Chapter 13

Monica

“Monica! Let’s go!”

I huff out a breath. Does Cameron have to yell and alert the entire household to his growing impatience? He hasn’t even been waiting that long. I came upstairs to brush my teeth, and after deciding my jeans and T-shirt were fine for a “casual outing”—Cameron’s words—I’d dared to take a minute to run a comb through my hair.

“Monica!”

“For the love of sweet baby pandas,” I mutter. “I’m coming!”

After tying my sneakers, I grab my phone and head downstairs to where Cameron waits, hands on hips.

Standing in front of him, I cross my arms. “There was no need to yell.”

“On the contrary. You were taking forever.”

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