Maybe it was because I hadn’t dated in a while. Maybe I was gun-shy. Off the horse too long. But deep down I knew it was more than that.
On paper, Adrienne and I made sense. There was no reason to refuse her, and even Cam was on board. I thought back to last night and the conversation she and I had about Adrienne. Cam was insistent and determined — I could see it in her eyes, she wanted me to date Adrienne. She saw it as a good match, and maybe it was, but I wasn’t really interested.
I’d rather be a bar fly alone.
No, not alone. With Cam.
My soul staggered as I sat at my desk in my office, damp palms on the cool surface.
Cam and Adrienne were nothing alike, and I realized that was part of the reason I found myself seeking Cam’s company. She was my friend, the person who I told almost everything. I found comfort in her, the familiarity, the realness of her. I knew her, and she knew me, the real me, and that was all she ever asked for.
It was in the mundane moments that I noticed her. It was watching her read, curled up on the couch with her face reflecting whatever emotion she read. It was seeing that same face all scrunched up, tongue poking from between her rosy lips as she kicked my ass at Smash Brothers. The disappointment in her big, brown eyes when another book failed to capture my attention.
But she wasn’t interested. I mean, sometimes she looked at me like those sides of beef we’d joked about last night, but I didn’t think anything of it. She was attracted to me too, but that was it. Just physical.
Wasn’t it?
I didn’t have a shot with her — I wasn’t her type. She’d said it a thousand times. But that didn’t stop us from being friends. It didn’t stop me from wanting to hang out with her. It didn’t stop me from watching her make coffee, or stretch in those little shorts she wore to bed, all the while thinking about her body against mine.
I wondered, and not for the first time, if she would ever date me. If she’d let me kiss her. If she’d kiss me back.
No, I told myself.
She’d only shoot me down, and it could ruin our friendship, put some weird juju on us that would just make living with her incredibly awkward. Not that I couldn’t handle the rejection — I’d been rejected plenty, and for a number of reasons. But rejection from Cam would be different. It wouldn’t be so easy as the others, and some of them were a level of hell I didn’t typically care to discuss.
It was then that I decided I’d hit the gym hard to clear my head and then stay home tonight. Or maybe I’d call Kyle, blow off some steam. Either way, space seemed like a smart move, and as I packed up my things, I wondered whether I was right or wrong.
Cam
Greg smiled at me from across the bar when I walked in that evening. The happy hour crowd was going strong, and I made my way around the back of the bar to jump in and help him and Beau out, happy to be busy after a long day reading and laying around like a fat-assed cat. The most productive thing I’d done was bake cookies, but I negated my productiveness by eating half of them.
I’m not telling how many dozens I made. A girl’s got to have her secrets.
Once we had the bar under control, we made our way down the line, making sure everything was stocked, wiping down the surfaces while Beau headed to the back with racks of pint and rocks glasses to send through the dishwasher. Greg and I stood at the dish wells to catch up on the more delicate wine and martini glasses as Greg washed and I rinsed, and I smiled over at him.
“How’d it go last night?”
He shrugged. “Fine. We made good money, locked it up tight.”
“Get Bayleigh home all right?”
“Yeah, she lives close by, so it was no big deal.” He smiled that winning smile of his, his tattooed arms dunked in the soapy water.
I smiled back, picturing the two of them together. “It was really great of you to offer. She’s so adorable.”
He chuckled. “She is. A real sweetheart.”
“Hey, you’re one to talk. You guys are two of the best people we have working here, no lie.”
“Is that why you schedule us together all the time?” he asked with a brow up and a smirk on his lips.
I smirked right back. “One reason.”
He laughed and handed me a glass.
“I bet the crowd last night ate up your costumes last night. Cool that you guys matched.”
“I’m sure it didn’t hurt the tip jar one bit. Though I don’t know if I’ll wear a full spandex bodysuit again.”
“Aww,” I said with a laugh. “But the ladies sure loved it. I’m thinking I should have you, Beau, and Harrison all work a shift dressed up as Spiderman, Superman, and Batman. Beau’s got the hair for it, I bet it’d even make that little curly-cue in the front. I’m a thousand percent sure we could all make a killing.”
“So, bookstore, bar, and strip club?”
“Hey, who said anything about stripping? I’m talking about covering you head to toe in beautiful, breathable spandex.”
He laughed. “It was fun. There were a few Mary Jane’s in the crowd who wanted pictures. Bayleigh was the only Gwen.”
“Well, she’s one of a kind.”
“And Harley Quinn took a picture hammering my ass.”
I snorted.
“Your roommate’s costume was great, too. Original to go for Steve Rogers over the full-on Cap.”
“It was his idea,” I said as I took another glass from him and rinsed it off.
One brow rose. “Really?”
“No. But it was his idea to make a shield out of a trashcan lid.”