Love Songs & Other Lies(42)
“Sand is—everywhere.” He laughs and so do I. “This is really sexy.”
I start wiping at the sand caked to my face, but my hands are covered in it too.
Cam makes a futile effort to brush off my cheeks. “I think it’s hopeless.” He kisses me on the lips, which are definitely covered in sand as well. When he pulls away, his lips scrunch up and his tongue pokes out just a little, like a lizard, darting in and out. I think he’s going to spit again, but he doesn’t.
I can’t help but laugh, but I’m also not ready to stop. All I can think about is his lips and his tongue, and my lips and my tongue, and his hands and my hands. The possibilities, the combinations. He wipes a hand across his mouth and lets out a little cough.
I brush my thumb across his mouth. “You really want to spit, don’t you?”
“I really do. I think it’s in my teeth.” He turns away from me and I do the same. We spit in opposite directions. Maybe he was right, and I am drunk. I’m standing next to the guy who gave me the best kiss of my life, and I just spit. I should be horrified, digging myself a deep hole to crawl into. Instead, I’m looking at Cam, while he looks at me, and we can’t stop laughing as we walk along the beach, making the slow trek back to the parking lot, hand in hand.
There’s definitely a storm coming—the air has gotten colder and when a shiver ripples through me, Cam lets go of my hand and wraps his around my hip, pulling me toward him and cradling me into his side. I fit perfectly against him, like I always do. The sounds of bongo drums and acoustic guitar float across the air and I know we’re getting closer to the beach entrance. Closer to reality.
Cam leans down and kisses my hair. No one’s done that before, and somehow, this simple gesture feels like the most intimate thing that has ever happened to me.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
NOW
CAM
If watching Vee playfully flirt with Tad was like getting a root canal—which it was—then watching her wrapped around some random guy is like open-heart surgery minus the anesthesia. I had stopped watching Vee a long time ago, but now my eyes are back on the dance floor. On her. Partly because Logan has long since abandoned her, but also because I’m lacking the self-control to stop myself. I’ve lost count of her drinks, but she’s swaying more than dancing. She’s been dancing with the same guy for a while now, since all the camera crew left. He’s got his arm wrapped around her hip, and they’re headed for the door; I can’t ignore it any longer. By the time I’ve pushed through the now very drunk crowd, I basically have to lunge in front of the exit. Vee looks more like a rag doll than a person, like she can barely keep herself on her own feet.
“Come on, Vee.” I grab her hand gently, and pull her toward me, while this idiot pulls her back toward him. As though we’re going to have an actual tug-of-war over her.
I take a step forward. “Don’t.” I’m a head taller and have thirty pounds on him. And I won’t even consider leaving this club without Vee.
She’s scowling at me, but her eyes seem playful. “I’m just having fun, Cameron.” She says my name slowly, like my name is a swear word.
“Really? Because it looks like you’re just getting dragged out of here by some creep.” I glare at the stranger’s hands still resting on Vee’s hips. “Hands off, man.”
“You’re the boyfriend?”
Vee looks up at him and shakes her head like he’s crazy. “Oh, no, this isn’t my boyfriend. My boyfriend is the lead singer.”
“We’re both lead singers.” I don’t know why I’m even arguing, and I grab for her hand.
“I want to see the Ferris wheel, Cameron.” She nods to the window where the massive SkyView is blinking, the covered gondola seats moving across the window and out of sight.
“We can go tomorrow, Vee.” I reach for her hand once more and she jerks it away.
“You … ve noright.” Her words are all blurring together. “I don’t wanna go anywhere with you, Cameron!” She’s getting loud and attracting some attention, and her new friend is looking annoyed. He raises his hands in the air and takes a step back. Vee stumbles as she loses his support, and I grab her arms and pull her toward me. Instead of thanking me for keeping her off a MISSING poster, Vee uses her tiny fists-of-fury to nail me in the shoulder. Over and over. All the while telling me how much she hates me. How she wishes I weren’t here. The tour would be perfect if I weren’t on it, and why did I have to make her life miserable? Making her miserable is my life’s work, apparently.
“You have anger management issues,” I say. “You know that, right?” This girl will be the death of me—I throw my arm behind her knee, knocking her off her feet as I scoop her up into my arms. As much as I wanted her to finally explode and just let me have it—I’m just annoyed. And this is nowhere near private.
She lets out a squeak of panic. “You coulda cracked my head open.”
“Not likely.” I smile at her in my arms, just to push her. “Too hard.”
Her mouth is scrunched up like she’s sucking on a lemon. I could tell her how cute she is when she’s mad, and really piss her off, but I don’t feel like dealing with her fists again. We’re making enough of a scene. As I push through a cluster of people gathered in front of the exit, Vee kicks her legs, clipping people with her flailing limbs, squealing apologies of “Ohmigosh. Sosorry. Isallhisfault. I’msodrunk.”