Page 31 of Out of Bounds

Sloane was the girl I let in, the one I trusted.

Why did I ever let that go? Let her slip through my fingers, like a grain of sand on the beach? As if she wasn’t special.

Because damn, she absolutely is.

You let her go to protect her. To give her a shot at a normal life. One without the pressure, the fear of failure, the uncertainty.

I didn’t drag her into the weeds then, and I shouldn’t now. No matter how badly I want to.

It’s not right.

She deserves more, better.

Sloane Carter deserves the fucking world—and I’m not the guy who can give it to her.

“Cam? You okay?” Her soft voice jolts me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah. You save me any fries, Trouble?”

Shoving the basket toward me, I shoot her a laid-back grin and steal a fry. I need to stay superficial, need to be the fun version of myself.

It’ll be better—safer—for both of us.

CHAPTER 11

SLOANE

Cam and I spend the next two weeks hanging out together practically non-stop, cocooned in our safe little bubble, just the two of us.

I put off applying for the job at the library to spend time with him, sprawled on the sofa in the middle of the day. We binge watchBridgerton(my pick, but he’s lying when he says he didn’t like it) and all four thousandStar Warsmovies (obvs, his pick).

Scouring TikTok videos, we try out a bunch of recipes. Quick thirty-minute dinners, fancy gourmet meals, some gluten-free desserts. Most of the sweet treats end up in the trash, but a few of the thirty-minute recipes turn out great, a real bonus.

I drag him to the bi-weekly farmer’s market to visit my grandmother, Mimi, and check out the goat products she’s selling. We sample the cheese and milk and I convince Cam to buy a bar of goat milk soap—great for exfoliation.

In return, I spend time quizzing him on the ThunderCreek playbook, drawing the routes out on the whiteboard my dad installed in the kitchen. You know—for when lightning strikes while you’re in the middle of making a grilled cheese sandwich.

The only time we’re apart is when Cam’s at practice or the gym.

It’s the best two weeks of my adult life.

Everything I loved about him in high school is still there. That quick, easy smile, the dimple in his right cheek that winks at you when he’s happy. His deep belly laugh when I say or do something silly. The intensity in his marine eyes when he’s concentrating, a furrow etched in his brow. The absolute passion the man has for football. The only person I know with as much love for the game is my dad. I sit back enraptured every night at the dinner table, the two of them going back and forth about this play or that play. Cam will make a great coach someday, after he retires from the pros.

We’re as close now as we ever were and everything feels so right between us.

Everything except for the fact that we haven’t kissed.

I’m still deep in the friend zone. There’s been some long, lingering gazes, a flirtatious arm stroke here or there.

But that’s it. Nothing more and I’m beginning to wonder if I’m reading the room all wrong. Maybe this thing between us is all one-sided and I’m only seeing what I want to see, what I hope is there.

Gracelyn keeps telling me to open up to him and confess my feelings, but I can’t bring myself to do it. The fear of rejection, of hearing Cam say the word ‘no’ out loud, silences me. The words dry and wither on my tongue every time I try, and I swallow them back down, bitter little pills.

Cam and I are in the middle of a cheesy made-for-TV thriller when my phone buzzes with a text.

“Cam, Gracelyn got invited out on Nick’s boat again and wants us to go with her. For moral support.”

“You want to go?” he asks.

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