Page 12 of Chase Lovett Wants Me

“You were standing there, being huge and imposing, and it freaked me out and I just reacted.”

I roll up to a sitting position. “Did you think some random dude appeared out of nowhere?”

“I’m sorry. You scared me. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Her arms pinwheel, the too-long sleeves of the hoodie flopping around.

I hold up a hand. “I’m okay.”

She takes it as a sign that I want her assistance, shoves a sleeve up, and wraps her small hand around mine. The contact isn’t unwelcome, but the jolt it sends through me is foreign. It happened the first time, too. Maybe she’s a staticky person. I let her help pull me to my feet.

She tips her chin up. “I’m really sorry.”

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” I straighten my shirt and run a hand through my hair, trying to be cool about the fact that she just laid me out and I’m kind of a lot turned on by it.

“My sister and I had to learn how to fight young because my dad wanted us to be able to defend ourselves. I had a black belt in karate by the time I was fifteen.”

“That’s fucking hot,” I blurt.

Cameron blinks up at me, cheeks turning pink. “Uh, thanks?” She takes a step back. “You needed the bathroom?”

“Right. Yeah.”

I leave her standing there and close the bathroom door, locking it behind me. As I relieve myself, I notice that her panties are no longer hanging on the shower rod. But her shirt is folded on the counter. Is she wearing those panties again? Why am I suddenly turned on by the fact that she wears underwear proclaiming her pussy is her precious? I also wonder how many guys, if any, have had access to her precious. What if she has a boyfriend? The hot feeling creeping up the back of my neck is weird, and I don’t know what to do with it. I shouldn’t be thinking about her panties like some kind of fucking creep. She probably wouldn’t haveagreed to stay in this room with me if she had a boyfriend. Or she would have mentioned him. Girls with partners do that so straight dudes know not to shoot their shot for no reason.

I shake it off, literally, wash my hands, and return to the bedroom. The bedside lamp is still on. Cameron waits until I’m lying down again before she asks, “Should I turn out the light now?”

“If you want.” I turn on my side and push the pillow between our heads down so I can see her profile. I don’t know how I missed how pretty she is. Her bottom lip is fuller than her top lip, pouty and suckable. I try not to think about what it would feel like to have those luscious lips wrapped aroundmyprecious. And fail. “So you have an older sister, huh?”

“Yeah. She’s really fun. And super pretty. She makes friends everywhere she goes and everyone loves her. High school was kind of weird because she was basically famous for being hot.” Her voice starts to pitch up the longer she talks.

“Did that make it hard?” If her sister looks anything like her, I believe the hotness factor. But I don’t care about her sister. I just want to know the girl in front of me.

“She’s outgoing and I’m more of an introvert. She’s cool though. I kind of lived in her shadow, but also it meant that people were nicer to me because of her, and mostly left me alone. I definitely wouldn’t repeat high school, but it could have been worse. Anyway…” She takes a deep breath. “Do you have any siblings?”

I tuck my arm under my cheek, getting more comfortable. “One older sister and a younger brother.”

“Oooh. The middle child.” She rolls toward me and folds her pillow in half, then punches it down like she’s annoyed with it. “Do you feel misunderstood most of the time?”

“Nah, my sister’s only a year older and my brother’s a year younger so there wasn’t a lot of room to be misunderstood.” I shift, trying to get comfortable, but my ribs are sore. “What’s your major? What classes do you have this semester?”

“Seriously?” Her eyebrows rise.

“Yeah, seriously. I thought I saw you in bio last week.”

Her nose wrinkles. It’s pretty freaking cute. “Yeah, you did.”

So I’m right, she’s the same girl. “You live in res, right?” Unless she was just visiting a friend when I saw her in the elevator.

Her cheeks flush. “Uh, yeah.”

I rub my bicep. “Right. Cool. What floor?”

“You’re like three doors down from me.” She rolls onto her back.

“You’re kidding, right?” That means we’ve been passing each other in the halls for two months.

“Nope.”

“We must sit on opposite sides of the lecture theater in bio.” That’s the only explanation for not knowing her before now.

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