Page 18 of Playmaker

Training?

Am I just a placeholder to keep him company while he gets in shape for football?

No.

If that was the case, he wouldn’t have packed a picnic basket for us. He can’t tell Jessica we’re here as friends because, since she went to high school with him, she more than likely knows Ethan too. I’ve never seen her before, but I also wasn’t in their class. If Jessica was to go back and say she saw us together alone with a picnic basket, it would undoubtedly raise questions.

“Well, if you change your mind, I’ll see you later tonight.” Her hand stays far too long on his forearm, and the bitter taste it leaves in my mouth lingers long after she jogs off to complete her workout.

I’d rather crash this bike than deal with the aftermath of that conversation, so I take off without his help.

Just as he suspected, the motion comes back to me within the first minute, and then I’m pedaling at a leisurely pace, keeping my eyes trained on the road in front of me while I search for any rocks in my way.

Cameron catches up to me in less than thirty seconds, keeping pace beside me. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I reply, the words short and clipped.

“Really? Because it seems like you have something to say.”

Twisting my head to glance at him briefly, I snap my eyes back to the path in front of us and say, “Other than the fact you’re a total dick? Not really.”

He tosses his head back with laughter. “Ah, there’s the Maddie I missed. Tell me, how am I dick?”

“You didn’t even remember her name. Have you slept withthatmany girls?”

“I didn’t realize this bike ride would result in me opening up about my sexual history.” It’s meant to be a joke, but he seems to sense the brewing anger inside me because he adds, “Honestly? Yeah. I’ve slept around. However, the girls I sleep with know it won’t turn into anything serious. I’m a fan of getting laid, not breaking hearts.”

Just mine, then?

The sentence is on the tip of my tongue, and I bite down so hard on it I fear it might bleed.

“Consensual sex isn’t a bad thing,” he continues. “I’m not going to feel guilty or ashamed of my body count. I’m safe, and that’s what matters.”

“I’m not saying you should feelashamed, but don’t you want to reserve some of that intimacy for the person you end up with for the rest of your life?”

Trees and blue sky whiz by us in a blur. Cameron pedals until he’s slightly ahead of me, but after a minute or so he says, “I think fucking and making love are two different things, and with the right person, I’ll be able to enjoy both. There hasn’t been a girl I’ve fucked yet where I’ve wanted to do both, so until then, I’ll wait.”

Right. Because that girl will never be me. It’s a constant reminder every second I’m around him, and regardless of ifIwant it, he’ll never go against my brother. He may find me attractive, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.

“On the bright side, I think the girl I marry will appreciate all the practice I’ve had,” he says with a laugh, oblivious to the pain searing my heart. “All of the skills I’ve honed over the years will be for her and only her, you know?”

I can only nod in agreement because I don’t trust myself to speak.

It makes me feel like an utter idiot for pushing other guys away for him. He’s been having the time of his life gatheringskillsfor the girl he ends up with, which clearly isn’t going to be me, and I’ve been what? Reading books? Doing homework? Isolating myself and waiting to see if he’ll make a move?

What a useless way to spend my time.

It makes me want to act irrationally. It makes me want to ask Ethan for Mark’s number and take him up on his offer to take me on a date. Maybe he’ll be at that party tonight. I’m sure Maya knows. Maybe I’ll shock the entire town of Wickenburg and attend back-to-back parties like I actually enjoy it and know what I’m doing. Maybe I’ll go live my best life and hone myownskills.

“Want to stop here and eat?” Cameron jerks his head to a clearing overlooking the pond, and while I prop my bike against a tree next to his, he grabs the picnic basket and walks us over to a bench.

I ignore how right it feels as my thigh brushes against his, along with the pitter-pattering of my heart when he pulls out a slew of my favorite foods. The graham crackers I snuck a few bites of earlier, Doritos, a turkey sandwich with mayo and—specifically—American cheese.

I’m moving to take a bite of my sandwich when I hear the sound of a Tupperware lid opening. Cameron has a salad rather than a sandwich. It’s piled high with chicken, avocado, and a boiled egg, from what I can see.

“Looks delicious,” I say dryly.

He shrugs and takes a bite. Then, with a mouthful of food, he says, “Training. I have to eat clean and get as much protein as possible. My dad came up with the diet plan, and it’s helped me build a lot of muscle this year.”

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