The Real(47)

“Fine, an experiment,” he relented. “I won’t fight with you. It’s the last thing I want.”

“Then let’s table this. Okay?” I’d been creeped out enough for one day. The last thing I wanted to talk about was Luke.

“Okay.”

The air had changed between us, regardless of our truce. I hated it. Loathed it. It was always when things got heavy that everything changed. That’s why I would fight as long as I could to keep the old hurts and resentment away. It had no place between us.

“Want to play a game?” I asked as he rubbed a knuckle along the steering wheel. He looked over at me and read my expression. I was pleading with him to help me fix the strangling air between us.

“I brought some booze. Want me to get it?” he offered.

“Why in the hell didn’t you say anything before now?!”

He grinned as he jumped out of the vehicle and opened the trunk. Seconds later, he was back in the driver’s seat with my choice of Tito’s vodka or Maker’s Mark.

“Perfect!” I said, grabbing the vodka. “Let’s do this.”




“That. Is. Insane,” Cameron roared hysterically. “I can’t believe we’ve been drinking coffee all this time when all I had to do was give you vodka!”

I grinned over at him and rolled my eyes. “You act like I never told you this.”

“Seeing is believing, baby,” he said as he tilted the bottle of vodka and took a healthy sip. We’d drank a good bit of it and were both feeling the effects.

“Wow, wow,” he said as he watched me unfasten his tie and free my hands.

Minutes before, I’d stripped him of his maroon tie and told him to fasten my hands behind my back. Apparently, for Cameron, the fact that I was double jointed was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

I had the ability to roll my bound hands over my head, but I’d decided to make it more interesting by having him use his tie on me. Basically, if I wanted to take my act on the road, I could be the Houdini of handcuffs.

“That’s fucking wild,” he said as he shook his head.

“Yeah, my mom screamed the first time I did it in front of her.”

“What else can you do?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I said, waggling my brows.

“I’m so fucking turned on.”

I shook my head. “Of course you are.”

“Hey, don’t take that tone with me. You are the one putting ideas in my head.”

“You pig.”

“Oink,” he said, pulling me into his lap. “You little weirdo.”

“Hey, I don’t see you performing any party tricks,” I defended as he brushed his nose against mine.

“True, I’m lacking talent in that department. Why don’t you let me make up for it with enthusiasm?” He pushed his hips up, and I bounced on his thighs.

“Hmmm, you’ve got a little making up to do before you get all of this.” I motioned to myself. “And I can’t believe you watched me pee in the snow. Reason one million why I hate the woods.”

“I didn’t watch. You screamed, and I had no choice but to look,” he said, bordering on a slur.

“Well, I felt something.”

“Sure you did,” he said, amused.

I traced his jaw with my finger. “I bet you were popular in high school. Did you play football?”

“Yes, Ms. Random. And soccer too, but when I was younger.”

“Date a cheerleader?”

“Yep.”

“Prom king?”

He bit his lip.

“Really? Prom king too?”

A sharp nod.

“Wow.”

“What?”

“I never even danced at my prom. My date was a dick. He only wanted to go to the after parties and get my dress off.”

“Did he succeed?”

“Noooo. He was a dick. I’m no killjoy. But I was around when the fake yawn, arm stretch around the shoulder move still existed, and now it’s not even a thing anymore. And I never got a second look from the king.”

“I would have looked at you, Abbie.”

“You’re just saying that because you’ve seen my party tricks. Trust me, back then I wasn’t your type, and you probably weren’t mine.”

“Oh, really?” he said with a smirk. Clutching his fists at his chest, he opened his mouth wide before stretching his arms out beside him and curling them around me.

He executed it perfectly, and I leaned in and kissed him.

“Dance with me,” he asked softly. “Now, here in the real world where none of that shit ever mattered. Where all that really matters is what you think of me now.”

“Let’s address that when we aren’t stranded in the woods,” I said, feathering my fingers through the soft hair at the back of his neck.

“Fine, dance with me.”

“You want me to dance with you? In the woods?”

“Yeah,” he prompted, pressing his fingers into my hips.

“Uhhh, no.”

“Come on, you’re the one who said romance is dead. I’m willing to try to prove that theory wrong.” With no effort, he deposited me back in my seat and picked up his phone.