Page 17 of Off Balance

Something pulls me out of my uncomfortable doze on the couch. After Cameron and Emile left, I had one too many beers and had to camp here for the night. A dull throb behind my eyes is the only thing left from my buzz, and I'm fuzzy from the shitty couple of hours of sleep I've had—not just because this couch isn’t made for people my size to sleep on, but because I've been restless. Flashes of Cameron assault my mind every time I drift off, and I jolt awake, wondering what he's doing right now.

Is he on his knees for him? Is he using that perfect mouth to?—

Fuck. No. Stop.I can't think about this anymore.

I sit up, scrubbing my hands over my face. I can't decide if I'm thankful to be sober enough to drive home, or wishing I'd drank myself into oblivion. Not that Dwayne would have let me without a lecture or demanding that I talk to him. He was already on my nerves, questioning me about my pissy mood after Cameron left. I stopped drinking when I realized that I'd probably spill everything—my doubts about this match, my fear, all my inappropriate thoughts about his stepson. All of it would come tumbling out in a spectacular display of verbal diarrhea, and then he'd really be looking at me like something to pity.

The floorboards creak, and a prickle of awareness sends goosebumps along the back of my neck.

I sense him before I can see the shadow of movement moving across the hall.

"Cameron?"

There's a curse, followed by a thud. The overhead light turns on, the sudden brightness making me cover my eyes until I can adjust.

"Jesus Christ, Dom. Creep much?" Cameron exclaims. "What the hell are you even doing in here, lurking in the dark?"

"Had too much to drink. I was sleeping it off. Why are you back so early? It's barely after midnight. I thought you were staying with Alistar?"

Cameron ignores my question and redirects with one of his own. "Why didn't you stay in the guest room?"

I really should have. Cora offered, but I felt too restless to be in a room right across from theirs.

"Meh. Wasn't worth the effort."

"You can't have been comfortable."

"Quit deflecting."

"I'm not deflecting."

"Then answer the question. Why are you home so early?"

"That's none of your business." His expression is blank, but I can see sadness behind his eyes. They look almost brown in this light.

"You're upset."

He flicks his gaze up to lock on mine. He's surprised by my observation. Or annoyed by it. Or both. Probably both.

What did he do to upset you?I want to ask.And how can I fix it?

"Want me to fuck him up?" I ask instead.

When his eyes widen, I flash my teeth and shrug my shoulders. I'm totally kidding.

I'm totally not kidding.

"Who says he did anything wrong?"

"You left here with him to spend the night. Now you're back just a few hours later, and you're upset. What else could it be?"

Cameron swallows, and to my surprise, sinks down to perch on the sofa arm nearest to him. "He didn't do anything wrong," he says softly. "You can put your fists away."

"So what happened, then?"

"I let my expectations overshadow reality." Cameron lifts a hand in the air to silence me before I can get my next words out. "Emile is a good man. He's complicated and has his quirks, but that's part of his genius. He doesn't think or see the world the way the rest of us do, and sometimes he says or does things that people who don't know him would think negatively of. He can't help but be blunt. It's in his nature to be black and white and always tell the truth, and he sometimes forgets to think outside of his own needs."

"Just because you think he has an excuse to be blunt doesn't mean you should have to put up with him putting you down."

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