Page 62 of Bad for Business
I risk a glance at the pool. Thankfully, Camille seems to be locked into a conversation with Emma, Winnie, and Charlotte and doesn’t even bother to look over at us.
When I look back at Jude, I find him staring back at me with the biggest grin on his face.
I close my eyes and groan. Fuck. Why did I have to ask him that? He’s right. I sound like a damn middle schooler. “I justwanted to know if you had the hots for my publicist,” I mumble, my cheeks heating from even saying the words out loud.
“Would it bother you if I did?” Jude asks coolly. There’s a hint of humor in his voice. It’s like he already knows the answer to his question without me even responding yet.
“Nope,” I answer a little too quickly. The response doesn’t sound or feel right leaving my mouth. It’s said so unconvincingly that even I don’t believe it.
“Sure it wouldn’t.” Jude snickers. “I don’t think you have to be worried aboutmegetting the hots for your publicist.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means it’s clear as dayyoulike her. I just can’t understand why you can be such a dick to her if that’s true.”
I look away from him for a moment. Damn. How have I been so obvious with how I feel about Camille that someone as self-absorbed as Jude has noticed? That’s bad.
“Yeah, well, I’ve tried being nice. She just throws it in my face and reminds me how uninterested she is in me.”
I watch her from across the pool, for a moment letting myself imagine what it’d be like if she’d never disappeared from my bed that morning.
Would she have let me take her on another date? Would we still be dating today?
It hurts to admit, but there was something about the chemistry we shared that night and this gut feeling I had about her that tells me we’d still be together. I don’t know how it went so wrong. Now, we can barely look at each other without glaring at the other. I can’t remember the last conversation we had that didn’t end in an argument.
“There’s probably a reason she’s pushing you away,” he starts. “And I’d be shocked if she isn’t interested in you. She keeps looking over here. Every day, she’s always looking atyou.”
“It’s her job to look at me.” I wish it wasn’t. I still wish I could get rid of her for the summer, and then maybe I’d be able to think straight again.
When Jude doesn’t answer, I look over at him. When our gazes meet, he lifts a shoulder in a small shrug. “Maybe I’m wrong. There’s a reason I’m well into my thirties and still single. But I’d bet a lot of money that she likes you. She’s just too afraid to admit it—or maybe even accept it.”
I ignore his comment. I don’t want to think about if anything he says is true. If I did, I might get hope for things to be different with Camille. I’m tired of getting my hopes up when it comes to her. Every time I do, I just end up feeling crushed.
“What about Charlotte?” I ask, needing to move the topic of conversation away from me. “You’ve been wrapped around her finger all day. Is there something between you two?”
Jude whistles. He doesn’t hide the way he looks over at her. “I wish,” he mutters, a corner of his lip lifting. “She doesn’t date Pembroke members, and she’s way too good for me. But I wish, Davenport. There’s something about her. I fucking wish.” The last part is said under his breath, more to himself than to me.
He doesn’t say anything else, and I don’t either. I’m too locked into my own problems at the moment to even dive into his. I pull my eyes from him and look back at Camille. I find her staring right back at me. The moment our gazes collide, she looks away from me.
I purse my lips, unable to look away from her. Jude’s words have me thinking. Is she pushing me away for a reason that isn’t disinterest? Does she think about me the way I think about her?
I sigh and close my eyes, realizing that there’s one looming question I’m not prepared to answer.
Am I brave enough to put myself out there again when it comes to her?
I can’t help but wonder if all this time we’ve spent fighting with each other was just a way for us to pretend that feelings aren’t there.
Or maybe it’s that she actually can’t stand me and regrets the times we’ve crossed a line. Maybe she doesn’t think about me at all…not in the way I think about her.
I wasn’t wrong last night when I told her I don’t like myself. There was a time when I did, but not anymore.
And if I can’t even like myself, what am I even thinking? That maybe she will?
I fold my arms over my chest and close my eyes.
Jude doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Camille only sees me as her annoying client she wants to be done with. I’m her golden ticket to a partner position at her father’s firm. I have to let the thought of her being even remotely interested go.
But there, for a moment, Jude gave me hope. Now, all I’m left with is a terrible hangover and the realization that not only do I not like myself, but Camille doesn’t like me either.
