Precious Consequences(30)

“You should bring her to the house the next time we have a barbecue,” Noah adds, surprising me even further. “My parents love kids and it would be cool to meet the little princess.”

“I’d like that,” I reply sincerely.

Coach Andrews calls him and after saying a brief “See you later”, he’s gone. I decide to start talking to someone else and approach a guy sitting on the stands. It’s nearing the end of the team's practice so I take a seat next to him after introducing myself. I think his name is William, but I can’t be sure. He’s tall with broad shoulders and narrow hips, and if I didn’t have a certain tattooed swimmer on my mind, I’d probably find this guy attractive. I ask him a few arbitrary questions, and pretend to be fascinated with his arbitrary answers. I catch a glimpse of Cameron over William’s shoulder, his posture rigid, his jaw ticking. He looks pissed?

“So what’s this for anyway?” William asks casually while packing his bag.

I’m forced to look away from Cameron’s heated gaze and back at the boring guy in front of me.

“I’m sorry, what?” I ask. I didn’t hear a word he said. I was too busy trying to decipher the body language of a guy I shouldn’t care about, but do. It’s at that point that I want to kick myself because in the middle of this stupid, meaningless, yet necessary conversation with this plain, ordinary and so-not-my-type guy, I come to realize that I do care about Cameron. I care that he made me dinner, I care that he kissed me like he was starved for my lips, I care that he made me feel wanted. And I care that he no longer wanted me after finding out about Ari. I care a lot.

“I asked what this is all for,” William replies. “The questions I mean.”

“Oh, right. It’s for an assignment, for one of my journalism classes.”

“Cool. So what do I get in return for answering your questions?” William wriggles his eyebrows and I almost gag.

“Nothing,” a deep, rich voice laced with anger bites out.

William and I whip our heads up to see Cameron standing next to us. How the hell did he get here so quickly?

“What’s it to you, Argent?” William asks. I don’t miss the contempt in his voice, or the sneer on his face.

“Baker, I suggest you leave,” Cameron grinds through his teeth.

William stands, but doesn’t quite match Cameron in height or bulk. In fact, he looks scrawny in comparison.

“She another one of your bed fellows?”

I cringe at William's insinuation and stand to leave. I think I’ve heard just about enough of this conversation and there’s no reason to stick around for what’s obviously going to be a fight.

“No,” Cameron snaps back. “She’s just too good for the likes of someone like you.”

I turn back and look at Cameron, stunned. Did he just say that?

“Well I’ll be damned,” William quips. “I never thought I’d see the day that Cameron Argent is jealous.”

I hold my breath in anticipation of Cameron’s response, waiting for him to deny it.

He doesn’t. He just continues to stare at William with anger swirling in the depths of his eyes. They’re bright after being set alight by William’s taunting and as the heavy silence stretches between them, they seem to be having a silent conversation, their bodies doing all the talking.

Surprisingly, William's hands lift in defeat. “All right, Argent,” he recedes, taking a few steps back and away from Cameron. He grabs his bag and just like that Cameron and I are alone. When did everyone leave? I wonder. I didn’t even notice until now.

I sidestep Cameron, feeling the sudden need to get away, but he’s too quick for me. He stands in front of me, towering over my leaner frame.

“I can’t,” he says.

I wait for him to carry on, and when he doesn’t I frown in confusion. Does he expect me to read his mind? Because that’s worse than trying to get a dog to meow.

“You can’t what?” I ask. The irritation in my voice seeps through and I hope Cameron catches it. The only riddles I have time for are the ones involved in playing ‘I Spy’, not this silly little thing Cameron and I seem to have going on.

His eyes soften, just a tiny bit, but it’s enough to make my chagrin dissipate. “I can’t go back to how it was before.”

“Why not?” I ask. “It’s obviously the better option for us.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he swallows hard, steeling himself for whatever it is he needs to say. I see the emotions in his eyes, on his face, battling it out. Whatever he’s about to say is clearly something he doesn’t want to say. “I met you, and I can’t pretend that I never did. That would be like wishing you didn’t exist, and whether it’s just as friends or something more, I want you in my life.”

I suck in a breath. What did he just admit? I want him to clarify but I won’t ask him to.

“Can we be friends?” I ask quietly. “Is it possible?”

He knows I’m not only referring to the intense attraction between us. I’m silently asking him about the very reason he decided we couldn’t be more than friends.

“If you’re wondering whether or not it still matters that you have a daughter, the answer is no, it doesn’t.”