Page 69 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
I shake my head. “Absolutely not.”
Dancing isn’t something I do, in part because I have no sense of rhythm. I slow danced with Dave at weddings a few times, but that was it. If I’d lived in Regency England, I would have been a wallflower.
I definitely won’t dance to “Gangnam Style.”
Cam stands up by himself. He does the dance that I vaguely remember from the video, which I haven’t seen in years, and he looks like he’s having fun, whereas my expression would be closer to one of terror. I never expected to find someone dancing to this song quite so sexy, but I do.
He gestures to me again, and I shake my head.
He comes closer and bends down. “No one will remember, right? Not even me.”
True, but dancing isn’t something I’ve ever enjoyed, even if people won’t remember me making an ass of myself.
But… what the hell.
I stand up, and when someone whoops, I almost sit right back down.
I don’t, though. Instead, I try to copy Cam’s movements. I still don’t like being the center of attention, but I enjoy laughing with him, being in his orbit.
When I take a seat, he accepts that I’ve done my dancing for the day. I just enjoy watching him have fun, and once the song is over, he joins me on the bench again, his arm draped over the back.
“Want to get out of here?” I ask.
Back in my apartment, we lose most of our clothes before we get to the bedroom, but we make it to bed before he slips his hand between my legs. I gasp.
“God, I love the sounds you make,” he says in wonder. “How did I find you?”
How didIfindyou? Why do I see you in multiple places on June 20? Why does your subconscious remember me? What does it mean?
But I’ve asked myself those questions many times before, and I’m able to shove them aside and live in the moment.
I wrap my hand around the hot length of him. When I take him into my mouth, he groans. I crawl up his body and kiss him on the lips. The thought that we don’t have much time—we don’t have enough time—keeps reverberating through me.
“Cam…” I say urgently.
He reaches for a condom, flips me onto my back, and slides into me.
Just like earlier, he’s smiling, like being with me is the most delightful thing. He lowers his chest to mine, and I arch against him, bare skin on bare skin. I kiss him with everything I have before turning us over so I’m on top. I look down at him, his dark hair against my white pillowcase.
Now I’m the center of attention—but only his attention, and I glory in it. I adjust the angle to get more friction in just the right place, and… there. It won’t be long.
I bend down to kiss him as we climax together.
“Do you want me to stay over?” Cam asks as it approaches midnight.
“Yes” I say. “Even if…”Even if you won’t be here in the morning.
He smiles, but this time, it doesn’t reach his eyes. They don’t crinkle; there’s no dimple.
“Tomorrow,” he says, “whatever that means—come find me.”
“I will,” I promise.
He wraps his arms around me and falls asleep, and I stay awake, eyes open in the darkness, the song he sang earlier running through my head.
“I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing.”
A few minutes before three o’clock, I can’t help pulling Cam into my arms. Maybe if I’m physically holding on to him, it’ll make a difference. Doubtful, but I do it anyway. He mumbles something unintelligible and burrows close to me.
