18

 

 

 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Three obnoxious thumps disrupt my Netflix session early Thursday night.

I glance towards Crimson's desk, hoping she'll take one for the team and answer the door, but she's nowhere to be seen. With a heavy sigh, I pause my show, yank my headphones out, and reluctantly drag myself off my bed.

Who dares interrupt my Friends binge?!

It doesn't take long to figure that out.

As I approach the door, I hear a trio of familiar voices penetrating the thin dormitory walls.

"Rayne!" Ellie whisper-yells. "That was a rude knock!"

"Huh? What do you mean? How can a knock be 'rude'?"

"It sounded real angry and serious. Like you're a detective coming to interrogate her about a murder or something!"

"She's got a point, R." I recognize Lexie's bubbly timbre. "That was the kind of knock your landlord does before taping an eviction notice to your door. Major you're in trouble vibes."

"If you want someone to open up, make it sound pretty," Ellie insists. "Melodic, almost, like a song. Here—listen to this."

She gently raps her knuckles against the wood in a soft, musical rhythm.

"That is nice," Rayne concedes.

"I don't know, El." Lexie tuts a few times. "It's cute, but too hard to hear. Time for my strategy."

She clears her throat, then hollers out my name at the top of her lungs.

"SYDNEY! Yoo-hoo!!" Two energetic taps follow her exuberant shouting. "Open this door, please and thank you!"

Before my R.A. comes busting down the hall wondering what all the commotion is about, I quickly undo the locks.

"Uh...hey guys?" I open the door and slant my head. "What's up?"

My perplexed greeting is met by three pearly-white smiles.

"Would you look at that? She's aliveee!" Lexie laughs as she gently shoves her way inside. The other two immediately follow her lead.

"Where you been hidin', girlie?" Ellie holds her arms out wide, inviting me in for an embrace I know better than to refuse.

The girl is a hugger.

As she squeezes me tight, a phone starts to ring. Rayne reaches into her pocket and pulls out her cell.

"Hey! We found her. She's in her dorm, safe and sound. Told you, babe." She sits on my bed and bounces a few times. "Yep. We'll bring her over ASAP. Love you, too. Bye!"

"Bring me over where? What are y'all talking about?"

To say I'm confused would be an understatement.

"Vaughn said you haven't answered any of his texts or calls for twenty-four hours," Rayne explains. "He was beginning to think you'd been kidnapped."

"Kidnapped?"

"Mhmm. By the Mafia."

"The Mafia?" Laughter bursts from my mouth. "What the hell is wrong with him?"

"Wait 'til you hear Weston's theory. Even more ridiculous." Lexie inspects my desk area, smiling at a pic of me and my bro in a wooden frame before she continues. "He figured you'd decided this whole college thing was overrated so you dropped out, packed your bags, and fled to Brazil to play soccer on the beach for the rest of your life."

"Now there's an idea," I crack. "But I definitely need to brush up on my Portuguese first."

"What in heaven's name..."

I hear Ellie mumbling to herself from Crimson's side of the room and glance her way. She looks both horrified and fascinated, eyes scanning the plethora of scary decor.

"Your roommate really went all out decorating for Halloween, didn't she?"

"Actually, no," I say with a chuckle. "None of this stuff is just for the holiday. The spook-show theme is an all-year-round thing with her."

"Oh?" Ellie's forehead wrinkles. "That's...odd."

She reaches out, grabbing the stuffed raven from the night stand to get a closer look. Right as she lifts the bird, a giant skull attached to a rope drops from the ceiling. The hollowed bones dangle just inches from Ellie's petrified face.

"Oh my gosh!"

The high-pitched squeal that comes from her mouth has me and the other girls cracking up.

"Sorry. I probably should've warned y'all to keep on your toes. Crimson's booby-trapped at least half of this room." I wave a hand across the small space. "Yesterday, I opened my dresser to grab some socks and there was an extremely lifelike tarantula sitting there, just chilling on top of my underwear."

"A tarantula? Fake or not, that's terrifying!" Ellie shudders.

"I know, right? It about gave me a heart attack."

"Your roommate sounds like quite the character." Her vision strays to the sunken eyes of the skull and she shudders once more. "I'm comin' to your side where it's safe."

With slow, cautious tip-toes, the frazzled brunette makes her way over. She joins Rayne on my bed, releasing a sigh of relief when she hits the mattress.

"Anyway, back to what we were saying... The boys sent the three of us out on a mission to hunt you down." She smooths a hand over her burgundy mini-skirt before giving me a stern finger-wagging. "Everyone was worried."

"Oh my God, seriously?" I grin and resist the urge to roll my eyes. "They're too much."

One measly day of no contact and the Treehouse Girls search and rescue was deployed. My brother and his crazy friends are so damn overprotective. I'm not sure if I'm annoyed or appreciative of that fact.

A little bit of both, probably.

"Alright, enough chit-chat! You're alive and well, you're obviously not busy tonight..." Lexie grins as she points an accusatory finger at my open laptop, Ross and Rachel giving away my evening veg-out plans. "You should join us for C and C."

"C and C?"

"Charades and Champagne!" Ellie decodes. "My birthday's this Saturday—"

"It is? Happy early birthday!"

"Thanks, girl." She smiles. "But I'll be in Georgia all weekend visiting my family, so the boys said we could celebrate tonight with whatever I wanted. I thought charades and champagne sounded pretty dang fun. Catchy, too!" She tilts her head in that innocent puppy-dog sort of way. "You'll come, won't you Sydney?"

Suddenly, I'm under the intense scrutiny of three pairs of eyes—ice blue, lime green, and honey-colored irises are focused directly on me. Add that in with the girls' eager expressions and nods of encouragement and one thing is very clear.

'No' is not an acceptable answer.

"Okay, okay. Y'all win." I hike a thumb towards my closet. "Let me grab a jacket and we can go."

After yanking on an oversized Windhaven sweatshirt, I find my keys and the four of us head out. We squeeze past a group of sorority girls dressed for a night on the town, the scent of flavored vodka and hair spray overwhelming the narrow hallway.

"We're gonna be keeping tabs on you from here on out." Rayne gives me a playful smile and hits the down button. "No more avoiding the Treehouse."

The loud ding of the lift sounds. As we pile into the small elevator, I quickly shake my head back and forth.

"What do you mean? I wasn't avoiding the Treehouse!"

She doesn't question my statement, but the defensiveness in my tone is obvious.

Another thing that's obvious?

The evidence countering my denial.

On a normal week, I stop by the jungle oasis at least three or four times. Five, if I'm desperate for homework help or if Erika brings over some mouth-watering meals for the guys.

This past week, however, I haven't stepped foot in the place. Not even once.

But here's the thing.

It's not actually the Treehouse I'm avoiding.

It's a certain boy who lives there.

After what happened between Cam and me on Saturday night, I've been a mess of emotions. A hot mess. Bewildered, perplexed, giddy, shocked...the roller coaster of feelings is nonstop.

I'm not a frequent flyer on the Overreaction Express, so it's no surprise my response to the inner turmoil hasn't been ideal. Instead of dealing with the situation like an adult, I've taken the cowardly route.

I'm avoiding it at all costs.

While my brother's 'up in arms' over my lack of correspondence, there's really only one individual who has good reason to be pissed at my ghosting.

Cameron.

The only text I've sent him in the past five days was early Sunday morning: a dry, low-effort message bailing on him and Bev for the day, no excuse given.

It was absolutely pathetic.

And every attempt to contact me since has been met with something even worse.

Utter silence.

I'm being an immature bitch...I know.

Self-awareness is not something I lack.

But what the heck am I supposed to do?!

Should I address the elephant in the room? Ask him about the kiss and where we go from here?

Or should I pretend it never happened? Continue with the status quo, act like things are normal?

Like my world wasn't flipped upside down the very moment his lips met mine?

It's complicated.

And here I am, surrounded by three senior girls who are like older sisters to me, all of whom have experience and knowledge when it comes to boys—the Treehouse Boys, in particular—and yet I can't ask for advice because there's no way word wouldn't get back to my stupid brother.

Ughhh!

As we walk towards off-campus, I push the thoughts and worries from my mind. I don't wanna deal with this right now.

And I seriously hope Cam is M.I.A. tonight so I don't have to.

Ha! As if I'd get that lucky...

 

 

 

Ten minutes later, we arrive at the beautiful property.

Lush, thick trees are all shades of Autumn: fiery red, butterscotch orange, and honey yellow. I purposely step on the fallen leaves littered around the front yard, crunching them under my sneakers.

Once we get to the Main House staircase, Rayne and I seize the opportunity to race up the steep steps.

She and I are serious junkies for competition.

Thanks to my secret weapon—legs twice the length of hers—I cruise to easy victory. After we catch our breath, Rayne cups her hands around her mouth and calls down to the other two.

"Hustle it up, slowpokes!"

The girly-girls take their sweet time, refusing to break a sweat on the journey up the never-ending stairs. When they finally join us at the top, Lexie rings the doorbell, magenta nail polish sparkling under the dim porch lights.

No knock squabble this time!

The wooden door flings open, Diego and Parker greeting us with warm smiles.

"Ladies! Looking good." In typical Diego fashion, he starts putting on a show. He does a fancy little bow, then twirls his wrist repeatedly as he beckons us inside the house. "Welcome to our humble abode. Please, do come in."

"Why thank you, good sir!" Ellie plays along with a curtsy. She ruffles his dark brown locks as we step inside the foyer.

"Mr. Fitz!" Still in formal-butler-mode, Diego holds his hands to the side of his head and claps twice. "How about some refreshments for the lovely chicas, yeah?"

Parker's eyes roll skyward, but the way his mouth bows up reveals he's amused by his roomie's antics.

He hands each of us a champagne flute, bubbling liquid filled to the very tip-top, and Ellie gasps.

"Do my eyes deceive me? No red solo cups? And is this real glass?" She taps her nails against the flute, face lighting up as she confirms it. "You boys really went all out for this, didn't you?"

Suddenly, Liam appears behind her.

"Of course we did, love." His large hands sneak around her waist, squeezing gently as he plants a kiss on her temple. "You said you wanted it fancy. We're not exactly what you would call 'classy', but we tried."

"Speak for yourself, Wright." Weston's next to pop up out of thin air. "I'm classy as fuck."

He tosses an arm around Lexie and tips his glass all the way back, pouring the bubbly down his throat.

His girlfriend laughs. "Since when is chugging your drink classy, babe?"

Immediately, he lifts a pinky from the flute, like that somehow makes the champagne-guzzling a sophisticated act. After finishing off the liquid, he glances at Ellie.

"We were even gonna rent tuxedos, El, but there weren't enough in the right sizes. Must be wedding season around here or some shit."

"Dang. Y'all would've looked so dapper." She rests her cheek against Liam's chest and grins. "It's the thought that counts, right?"

"We did get you a cake from that bakery downtown that you like," Parker reveals.

"Really?!" Her eyes go wide. "Red velvet?"

"Duh," he says with a chuckle. "We know that's your fav."

"And get this," Diego interjects. "We even wrapped your b-day gifts."

He tips his chin at the entryway table behind her, a large pile of presents stacked on top. The sloppy wrapping definitely looks like college dudes did it—wrinkly paper and saggy bows galore—but the gesture is seriously sweet.

"Took friggin' forever and a half, but anything for you, mamacita!"

"Guyssss." The southern beauty's smile stretches a mile wide, her voice cracking with emotion. "I seriously love all y'all so much!"

"Don't start getting all choked up, Ellie," Vaughn calls out from the 2nd floor. "No tears tonight, birthday girl!"

Everyone's heads simultaneously dip back as we follow my brother's voice to the top of the grand staircase.

But he's not the only one coming down to join the party.

Cameron's right behind him, looking handsome as sin in dark denim jeans and a navy blue shirt that hugs his broad chest and thick arms.

When his gaze latches onto mine, my stomach immediately goes haywire. Front-flips, handstands, cartwheels...all sorts of gymnastic stunts that render me nauseous.

Don't barf, you weirdo—act normal!

I force a weak smile, trying to be cordial, but it isn't reciprocated.

In fact, it only seems to piss him off.

His brows lower into a V-shape, mouth twisting into a frown. So many emotions brew in those gorgeous gray eyes of his, each one conveying the same underlying sentiment.

He is not pleased with me.

And he looks hell-bent on letting me know why.

Seriously—he's headed straight my way.

Shit!

On impulse, I jerk out an arm and grab the closest person I can find.

No way Cam will mention the kiss if someone's within earshot.

"The fuck, Syd?" Vaughn pries my white-knuckle grip from his wrist and gives me a puzzled look. "What's going on?"

"Uh..." I quickly think of a reason to get him talking. "Don't you need to, like, scold me or something? For not answering my phone?"

A confused laugh leaves his mouth. "Wait...you're asking me to lecture you? That's a first."

"I mean, you don't have to." I shrug. "But who knows what kind of shenanigans I was up to while ignoring your calls...what kind of troublemakers I was hanging out with. What kind of dangerous dangers I was putting myself in. Oh well. Guess I won't learn my lesson."

That does the job.

Reverse psychology never fails.

"What the hell were you doing?" His expression goes serious. "You need to be careful, Sydney. Seriously. You wanna end up dead in a ditch or what? I was watching True Crime the other day, and..."

He launches into a spiel I've heard a thousand times before. I nod every so often, pretending to be engaged, but I've already zoned him out.

Blah blah blah.

'Big-Brother' mode is officially activated, which means I'm safe from a Cameron Confrontation for the time being.

And this is precisely what I'll need to do for the rest of the evening—make sure I'm always in deep conversation with someone.

Don't allow myself to be alone for one second.

Avoid the sexy goalkeeper at all costs.

I can do that.

After a ten-minute long lecture, Vaughn's satisfied I've heard enough and we join the others in the living room. He walks off to chat with Rayne as Liam approaches me.

"Here, Sydney. Your turn." He holds a bowl in front of me. "Pick your charades partner."

He jiggles the dish, the tiny slips of paper dancing around the ceramic.

I grab one, unfold it, andddd...

Of.

Freaking.

Course.

Karma is biting me in the ass tonight.

"Cameron." Liam reads the name and starts cackling. "Oh damn. Awkward for you, isn't it?"

"Huh?" I snap my head up, immediately on guard. "Awkward? What makes you say that? What do you know?!"

"Er, nothing?"

His flabbergasted expression says it all.

He thinks I'm out of my mind.

He isn't wrong...

"Sorry." I clear my throat and go for a calmer, less guilt-ridden approach. "Why is it awkward?"

He gives me one more befuddled glance before offering up an explanation.

"Collins is jinxed when it comes to games. Board, video, drinking—doesn't matter the type. You're basically guaranteed to come in dead last with him as your partner."

"Really? I'm an extremely sore loser, so maybe I should pick a different teammate? Yeah, let me do that!"

I attempt to shove the slip back in the bowl, but Liam yanks it from reach.

"Nice try." He shakes his head and plasters on a wicked grin. "Have fun in last place."

But we don't end up in last place.

After five intense rounds, Cameron and I are leading the scoreboard.

Dominating it, actually.

I'm not surprised, though, and neither is Cam.

We've been communicating with nonverbal code for a while now, using facial expressions and body language to avoid drawing attention to our interactions.

Charades is basically second nature for the two of us.

But all of our friends are legit shocked at what they're witnessing.

The comments start rolling in right away.

"Collins is winning a game?! Quick, somebody look out the window. Are pigs flying?"

"Sydney must be his good luck charm."

"They're a perfect match!"

 

That last one has me sputtering on my drink so violently Ellie has to whack me on the back a time or two.

"Down the wrong pipe?" Concern floods her features. "You okay?"

I cough and force a nod. "Yeah."

No.

I'm not okay.

Staring into Cameron's clear eyes for the past hour, deciphering every raise of his brow, each twitch of his full lips...

It gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest, one that can't be blamed on the champagne bubbles.

I can't deny it any longer—we are a perfect match. Two puzzle pieces that fit together flawlessly.

We just get one another. In a way I can't comprehend or explain.

And that realization freaks me the fuck out.

The literal second the game ends, I mumble out a myriad of flimsy excuses to skip the cake and presents.

"Headache. Test tomorrow. Red velvet is an abomination."

Before anyone can pepper me with questions (or accuse me of blasphemy for my cake flavor preferences), I'm out the door and making my way across the vast front yard.

But I'm not quick enough.

I've just reached the edge of the pool when someone tugs on my arm, thwarting my great escape.

"Sydney."

The familiar voice is deep and gravelly. The hand wrapped around my forearm as demanding as the tone in which he utters my name.

I pivot around, feigning innocence. "Cameron?"

"We need to talk."

"We do?" My heart picks up speed, my voice a pathetic squeak. "About what?"

The ridiculous question is met with a slight cock of his head—yet another silent message I can read loud and clear.

You know exactly what I'm referring to.

His frustration is obvious as he drags his fingers through his hair. He glances around, then nudges his jaw to the left.

"Come with me."

I don't even get a chance to protest before he's pulling me under the low-hanging branches of a tree, crinkly leaves shielding us from view.

He situates me against the thick trunk, the scratchy bark digging into my back. One of his hands rests above my head, the other tipping my chin up, giving me no choice but to meet his inferno gaze.

He seems even larger than usual as he cages me in, his presence formidable. Daunting.

"What the hell is going on?"

Operation Play the Fool continues.

"Noth—"

"Nah," he interrupts. "Don't even fucking try that."

His head shakes with blatant irritation. Cameron, always so laid back, so easy going and nonchalant, is heated the hell up.

Something about seeing him with boiling blood and fiery emotions...

Damn.

"'Nothing' isn't going to work tonight, Sydney. You can't disappear on me for a week and then pull the nothing shit. We're not leaving this spot until you tell me what's happening in that crazy head of yours."

Testing his threat, I attempt to duck under his arm. Unfortunately, his words hold merit. He steps to the side and blocks my exit.

I heave a sigh of surrender, the truth tumbling out a moment later.

"I like you, Cameron. I like spending time with you, I like talking to you, but it's just—I don't know. I'm trying to process everything that went down. Trying to figure out how I feel. I'm...confused?"

His mouth dips into a frown. "You regret what happened? Is that it? If that's the case, all you had to do was tell me, Syd, and—"

"No!" I quickly shut that notion down. "Of course not."

"Then what's the problem?"

"That's the thing. The problem is I don't know what my problem is!" I throw my hands in the air and words spill from my lips at will. "I'm into you, Cameron. So into you. The attraction is real, and yet I'm running away. Maybe I'm scared? Maybe I'm trying to protect myself from getting hurt. There are so many obstacles to worry about. You're a senior. I've never had a boyfriend. We're not supposed to be together...I, I—"

My rant comes to an abrupt halt because shit.

I've accidentally let down my carefree veneer, the resounding vulnerability making me extremely self-conscious.

Hearing myself so emotional...

I feel like a total nutcase.

And to make matters worse, there's a familiar heavy pressure behind my eyes.

Nooo!

Why you gotta do me like that, evil tear ducts?!

I try to blink back the inevitable. No use.

The tears fall hot and steady a moment later.

"Hey, whoa. Don't get upset, baby." His voice softens, anger giving way to sweet concern. "Why are you crying?"

I sniffle. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." With the pads of his thumbs, he tenderly wipes away the tear drops. The slow stroking motions send a wave of comfort through me. "I'm not trying to make you cry. I just wanna figure things out. Okay?"

Swallowing down the lump of emotion in my throat, I nod.

He tugs me into his embrace, large hands rubbing soothing circles on my back. After I've calmed down, he studies me for a minute.

"We don't have to go 0-100 with this. We can take things slow if that's what you need." His brows pinch together, a guttural, almost-pained sound escaping him. "But damn, Sydney. I can't go back to how things were before. I can't be around you and not touch you." His index finger traces the column of my neck and I shiver. "I can't look at you and not kiss you. No fucking way I can't kiss you again."

His head dips, lush lips barely brushing against mine in a fleeting gesture that leaves me wanting more.

"We don't have to stop," I say softly. "I don't want you to stop."

He presses his mouth to mine again. This kiss is more fervent, his touch desperate and filled with pure desire.

With a satisfied groan, he pulls back.

"Then let's not stop." A contemplative glint flickers in his eyes for a moment. "Look, we don't have to make things complicated. We don't have to define the relationship or put a label on it or anything like that. We can keep it simple. Just act on our feelings."

"Is that what you want?" I ask.

"I want whatever you want, Sydney."

I chew on my bottom lip, thinking it over.

"Okay," I say as I slowly bob my head up and down. "Yeah. That sounds good to me. Go with the flow and see where it goes from there."

He's about to respond when the sound of muffled conversation taints the silent night. Parker and Diego amble past, chatting amicably just twenty feet to our left. We both hold our breath, standing statue-still until they disappear into The Greenhouse.

Once I'm positive they're gone, I release a deep exhale and give Cam a pointed look.

"That's another big issue we need to address. How are we going to keep this on the down low? Your teammates are everywhere, my brother's got a freaking eagle-eye for tracking me down." My pupils dart towards the Main House. "And now I've got the girls keeping watch over me indefinitely."

I'm expecting him to share in my concerns, but instead he shrugs them off.

"It'll be fine. We'll be careful."

He shoots me a confident smile, one that has all my worries dissolving in an instant.

"I know this campus inside-and-out, Baby Blue. There are more than a few places to stay under wraps..."