Page 66 of Things I Wish I Said
“Or a cold shower.”
“Right? I mean, it’s not like anybody’s watching. You’re just at a fucking party surrounded by a hundred fucking people.”
I chuckle behind my hand when the guy beneath her repositions himself, grabbing at something below the belt.
“Is that his—”
“Yep,” I say, popping thep. “Pretty sure.” I grimace as the girl not-so-discreetly repositions herself, and I’m almost one hundred percent sure they’re actually having sex now.
“Fuck me. I feel a little filthy. Please, Ry, block my view.”
Laughing, I reach up and place my hand on his cheek, turning him to face me. “Don’t watch,” I say, noticing how warm and soft his skin feels.
Cameron’s eyes focus on me, more onyx than brown in the moonlight.
I clear my throat, dropping my hand as he continues to stare down at me with an unreadable expression. “So, where’s lover boy? Did he ditch you already?”
“Grayson?” I ask dumbly. He nods, his smile open and friendly. “No.” I wave away his concern, remembering Hannah. “It’s not like that with us. We’re not together.”
“You’re not?” He sounds both surprised and pleased at the news, which catches my attention.
I shake my head, leaning my weight back onto my hands and angling toward him to get a better look at his face.
The moonlight casts shadows over his features. Dark chocolate eyes meet mine above a strong, but slightly crooked nose. Messy dark hair curls around his ears and the nape of his neck beneath his baseball cap, unlike Grayson’s, which is shorn short on the sides with a messy crop on top.
My cheeks heat, suddenly aware of how attractive he is.
Cameron hums in disbelief. “I don’t know. He seemed a little too protective to be just a friend.”
“It’s a long story.” I sigh. “But trust me when I say there’s zero interest.”
“On his part or yours?”
I shrug. “Both,” I say, even though it feels like a lie. But the last thing I need is to fall for someone when I don’t even have a future, and Grayson sure as hell couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
“Well, you seem to be a good influence on him, regardless. I haven’t seen him sober this much in a long time. I guess we have you to thank.”
I frown, staring out into the throng of people as if I can conjure him with my mind. “Is he really that bad?”
Cameron laughs and mindlessly scratches his chest. “Yeah. I mean, he wasn’t before, but this past year, he’s spent most of his time in this vicious cycle of numbing himself with one thing or the other—baseball, pot, booze”—he pauses, returning his gaze to me uncertainly—“girls. And if he’s not doing that, then he’s getting in trouble for stupid shit.”
“Like what?”
Grayson never mentioned getting in trouble, though he did talk about running with the wrong crowd.
“He got pulled over a month back and they found weed on him, then he got mouthy with the cops, so they roughed him up a little and cuffed him. A couple weeks back, he and some others got caught vandalizing an old gas station in town. Cops were hoping they’d find drugs on them, but Grayson was the only one who got caught—he might smoke, but he’s no dealer. Just a bunch of stupid shit like stealing road signs and drag racing. So far, he’s gotten off the hook. His mom has connections, but one of these times . . .” Cameron shakes his head. “It’s like he wants to ruin his future. Like he can’t bear the thought of moving on or something.”
I frown, thinking about everything Cameron just said, wondering what could possibly be plaguing Graysonso much when Cameron clears his throat and says, “You have the most incredible eyes.”
My stomach flips and my mouth parts, surprised at the compliment.
He reaches out, and before I can stop him, he fixes a lock of hair that has shifted into my eyes. The change in expression is subtle, a small crease in his brow that’s gone as quickly as it came, but it’s enough to let me know he noticed something different about my hair, even if he can't figure out what it is.
Nausea swirls inside my gut, afraid he’ll ask me about it. Not because I’m embarrassed or scared to tell him I have cancer or that the hair’s not mine, but because for the first time in a long time, I’m alone with a guy who has no idea about my past. He doesn’t know my history—that I used to be a soccer star or that I’m sick. I’m just me, as I am right now. Some random girl he met through a mutual friend.
And he likes what he sees.
He drops his hand and shakes his head, laughing at himself. “Shit. That was really cheesy, wasn’t it?”
