Page 2 of Playmaker

“Mads has always been a bore.” Cameron’s emerald-green eyes glisten with humor, and damn him, his use of the nickname he gave me in middle school makes my heart falter for a beat. He arches a perfectly formed brow as he awaits my answer, almost like achallenge, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me riled up. He doesn’t get that privilege. Not anymore.

With a roll of my eyes I dismiss him completely and turn my attention back to Ethan. “I’m just asking if you can turn the music down. That’s it.”

Before my brother can reply, Cameron clears his throat, and I can’t help but wonder if my lack of attention is bothering him. I briefly glance his way, immediately cursing my urge to do so when he winks and opens his long, muscular legs wider in the chair. His lap looks inviting as hell, and the girl who left to get a drink moments ago seems to think the same. She plops her ass down in the spot Irefuseto look at and hooks her arms around his neck.

Gross.

“What, you want to join too?” Cameron asks me with a devilish grin. “There’s enough room for both of you.”

Just like that any attraction that tried to crawl its way into my body evaporates instantly. It doesn’t matter if Cameron looks like a movie star. Moments like these are a constant reminder that he isn’t who he used to be, and although he has his reasons, they aren’t enough for me to look past his repulsive displays of arrogance.

“Cameron, that’s mysister,” Ethan warns him.

The belly laugh Cameron gives in response shouldn’t make my stomach twist into knots and bile rise in my throat, but it does. “Relax,” he reassures Ethan. “I’d never go for Mads. She’s like my sister too.”

More snickers erupt from the two girls I’m seconds away from strangling, but thankfully Ethan shifts uncomfortably in his chair and sends me a look as if to say,I’m sorry about him.

There’s not a single excuse in the book he can give for Cameron’s behavior anymore. I used to listen to them and hold on to the hope that he would change, but Cameron has proven time and time again that he doesn’t plan on overcoming the hurt he experienced after his mother’s death. Instead, he let it fester and grow like weeds that I swear changed the chemical makeup of his brain. Ethan stuck by his side because Cameron’s his best friend, and I did, too, until Cameron all but told me to get lost.

“I’ll turn it down.” Ethan relents. “It’s fine.”

For a moment there’s a flicker of emotion in Cameron’s eyes. I get the strange sensation that he might apologize, but then the music quiets, cutting off whatever moment we might have shared.

I can lie all I’d like, but deep down I’m hurt that he changed. I was certain he’d mature and grow out of this playboy phase, and then. . . . Well, I never let myself get that far into the future. My hopes would only be crushed for the millionth time, and even if hedidmature and become more like the boy I used to know, my brother would be furious if he made a move on me.

I’d never go for Mads. She’s like my sister too.

With his words playing like a broken record, I storm back into the house in a wave of fury. I’m too pissed off to focus on studying now. Instead, all I can think of are the fleeting moments Cameron and I have shared over the years. From him consoling me when I fell off my bike in the third grade to our moment at Myrtle Beach together on my family’s annual spring break vacation six years ago. It was the summer before he started high school, right before his mom passed. I convinced him to sneak out onto the beach while everyone was sleeping, and that night Isworehe had been about to kiss me. I wonder if he would have if that wave hadn’t interrupted us, and if he hadn’t become a different person a week later, I might have asked.

But thosememoriesare exactly what they are—memories. At some point I have to let go and move on.

With a reluctant sigh I peel the blinds back to take one final look at the man who never seems to leave my thoughts.

It’s only going to be this way for the next two weeks. Then we’ll head back to our schools and I won’t have to be reminded of the past like a knife to the chest.

The girl who was in his lap has moved, and as much as I want to look away from his gray sweatpants, I can’t. The bulge there ishuge. It’s outlined like a piece of candy begging to be unwrapped, and I’m the idiot salivating over it.

IknewI shouldn’t have looked. I avoided it for a reason, and—

Oh fuck.

I guess I’m not the only one plagued by memories.

The moment I drag my eyes to his, they’re already locked on mine, and that same flicker of emotion in them downstairs comes back full force.

Any walls I built around my heart shatter with hardly any effort at all. With a single look Cameron can break through my defenses, and judging by the cocky grin that falls over his face, he knows it too.

And that’s all the information I need to realize that this will be anexcruciatingtwo weeks.

Two

Cameron

What is Little Miss Goody Good focusing so intently on?

We’ve been having a staring contest through her bedroom window for what feels like an eternity, but I can’t seem to tear my gaze away from the way her cheeks turned a rosy pink and her lips parted, and how she looked curious as hell when I caught her staring at my half-hard cock.

Maddie is the one to blame for this. What the hell was she thinking coming downstairs without a bra on? I’m notblind, but I didn’t get enough warning to avert my gaze in time before she threw open the sliding door with her tits practically falling out.

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