23

 

 

 

Where the hell is she?

I scan the party for what feels like the millionth time tonight, but I don't spot Sydney anywhere. I haven't seen her since that dude was getting way too handsy with her on the dance floor. I couldn't stomach the sight for more than a minute or two; I nope'd outta there real quick before I did something I'd regret.

Like give the douchebag a black eye and tell him to get the fuck away from my girl.

But she's notyour girl, you dumbass.

If she was, you wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. Wouldn't have to watch another guy touching her, his wandering eyes leering over every inch of her body, inner thoughts about what he wants to do to her written all over his stupid orange face...

Fuck.

I shake my head, brushing the thoughts aside. I've got other shit to deal with right now, like the fact that Syd's been missingfor almost two hours.

Worry twists my gut as I down my drink and head towards the Main House.

Maybe she's in there.

Hopefully with no damn vegetable by her side.

I'm about to duck under the red rope blocking off the staircase when someone shouts my name.

"Cameron! Cameron Collins! Wait!"

The dainty voice doesn't belong to the girl I'm searching for, but I turn around anyway.

Good thing I do, because mystery solved.

Relief surges through me as a petite girl heads my direction. She's dragging a bumble bee along with her—a disoriented, extremely drunk bumble bee.

"You're Cameron, right? I'm Mariana—Sydney's teammate. She keeps asking for you." With a grunt, she struggles a little under Syd's dead weight. "I think she needs to go home."

"Whattt?" Sydney waves off the suggestion with a slow laugh, then loses her footing and almost crashes to the ground. "No I don't."

"Yeah you do," I say as I pull her into my side and hold her upright. I frown at her friend. "How much did she have to drink?"

"Too much," Mariana answers. "I can't find her roommate anywhere. I'm completely blanking on what dorm she lives in. I don't know how to get her out of here!"

"Don't worry about it. I'll get her home safe."

Sydney sags into me, and shit. She is so fucking out of it. Her head droops against my chest and her eyes flutter shut.

Mariana's eyes, on the other hand, are narrowed in suspicion.

I take a step forward, leading Sydney away from the party, but the teeny brunette blocks my path.

"Now wait just one minute, mister." She wags a finger back and forth. "I don't know about that. I've never met you before, and I don't think I should let a stranger just whisk her off in the middle of the night!"

"I like that you're watching out for her. You're a good friend," I say before a light laugh escapes me. "But I swear to God Sydney and I know one another. In fact, we're pretty damn close. You can trust me."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Prove it!"

"Okay."

I dig into my pocket, fish out my phone, and show her a pic of the two of us playing soccer together.

Then I show her a few goofy selfies.

And then an intimate one of us kissing.

No way she can argue with that.

"Good enough for you?" I ask.

"I surrender. The evidence is indisputable." A hurt look crosses her face. "But why has she never told me about you? We're friends...best friends."

I'm about to explain our complicated situation when her eyes go wide.

"Oh. Ooooh! Holy moly. It's you. The secret guy. You're the one Sydney's head over heels for!"

"She said that?"

Mariana bobs her head up and down repeatedly. "It was more than implied."

"Yeah?" A massive grin spreads across my face. "Sweet."

"Lovebirds." She giggles before addressing the girl in my arms. "Text me when you get home, okay? I want to make sure you're safe and sound. Sydney?"

Syd mumbles something incoherent about grape jelly.

Mariana diverts the instruction to me. "Make sure she texts me!"

"You got it."

I lead Sydney across the yard, a discreet hand on her lower back for guidance. She's stumbling all over the place, her sense of balance completely obliterated by the alcohol flowing through her system.

The third time I save her from face-planting straight into the grass, I realize this whole walking thing isn't gonna work out.

"Here, Drunk Girl." I crouch down in front of her. "Get on my back."

With legs wrapped tight around my waist and arms looped across my neck, she molds her body to mine.

"Better?" I ask as I hoist her up a little higher.

She nods and rests her chin on my shoulder, tiny wisps of her hair tickling my cheek.

"Mhmmm," she hums. "You feel so warm. Like a fireplace. Or an inferno. Nooo...like the pits of hell."

"Uh, thanks?" I laugh and unlatch the front gate. "Not sure if that's a compliment or not."

"It is," she insists with a heavy slur. "The pits of hell are hot, therefore, you are hot. See? Compliment. Now go faster, would you? Giddy-up!"

Without warning, she digs her feet into my ribcage and tightens her arms around my throat.

This does not make me go faster.

"Whoa. Shit." I groan as I pry off her ironclad grip. "Let's refrain from giving the horse—aka me—internal bleeding or choking him to death, please."

She emits a concerned gasp. "Did I hurt you? I'm sorry."

"You're good." I shake my head in amusement. "You are so damn wasted."

"I am?"

"You are."

"Ughhh." She buries her face in the nook of my neck. "Embarrassing."

"Embarrassing? Nah. Fucking adorable is more like it." I gently squeeze the back of her thighs as we cross the street onto campus. "Act a fool all you want. I seriously doubt you'll remember any of this in the morning."

Five minutes later, we arrive at her freshman dormitory. Besides a few guys pointing at Syd and shouting "Man down!", the ride to the 5th floor is uneventful.

After getting the key from her pocket, I nudge the door open with my foot and we enter the room. I flip on the bedside lamp, a warm yellow glow enveloping the space.

"Home sweet home." I twist my head to meet her glassy gaze. "You ready to go to bed?"

"No," she mumbles, her drowsy voice cute as fuck. "I wanna stay up here. All night."

"You wanna sleep on my back?" I grin as she holds me tight. "That's cool, but I gotta sleep, too, babe, and..."

My words trail off when suddenly she presses her mouth to my flesh. Supple lips nibble at my neck, a zing of electricity shooting down my spine at her touch.

"Sydney. Damn." I squeeze my eyes shut, trying like hell to not get turned on. She starts to rub her hands up and down my pecs, my self-control growing weaker by the moment. "We can't."

"Why not?" She moans against my skin, the vibration too much for me. The boner I was attempting to talk down comes on full-force.

"Because—"

Her tongue pokes out, slowly dragging just under my jawline, and what was I saying again?

She sucks on my neck for a minute or two more, my dick getting harder by the second. My brain's foggy, my heart's racing, and I'm more than ready to flip her to my front, cage her against the cinderblock wall, fuck her senseless...

Uncontrollable laughter interrupts my fantasy.

"You have stubble," she slurs as she rubs her cheek to mine. "Blonde stubble. It's scratchy. I loveeee that."

Oh right.

She's blasted out of her mind.

I clear my throat, shake my head a time or two to get my thoughts straight, then walk over to her bed. I turn so she's positioned directly above the mattress.

"Off," I command. "C'mon. Get down."

When she doesn't move, I reach behind me and tickle her ribs until she's squealing and laughing so much she can barely catch her breath. It doesn't take long until she lets go and lands softly on the bedspread.

"The room's spinning." She stretches her arms above her head and yawns. "I'm tired."

Time for a little game I call Put the Drunk to Sleep.

First things first: pajamas.

I open the dresser on her side of the dorm. After shuffling through her clothes, I find a giant t-shirt and a pair of PJ shorts.

"Change into these," I say as I toss them her way. "I'm gonna find you some water."

I walk into the hallway and find the vending machine we passed earlier. It's got the usual assortment of chips and sodas, but also has a large section filled with water, sports drinks, and medications.

After fishing out a few bills from my wallet, I buy a giant Fiji water, a purple Gatorade, and a tiny pack of Advil.

Yeah—this thing is legit.

Whoever pitched the "Hangover Helper" vending machine to college dormitories is a fucking genius.

When I slip back into the room, I'm surprised Sydney's managed to get into her pajamas in her inebriated state. Sure, the shirt's inside out and backwards, but it's over her head, so I'm impressed.

"Hope you like grape flavor," I say as I hold up the Gatorade.

She gives me a sleepy thumbs up.

I grab her polka dot trash can and situate it strategically beside her bed. As I place the sports drink and Advil on the night stand, I flash her a grin.

"You're gonna be freakin' ecstatic to see these tomorrow morning. But for right now..." I pull her desk chair next to the mattress, sit down, and shake the water bottle. "We need to get you hydrated."

I unscrew the cap and hold the H2O to her mouth. She downs half the liquid in one long sip.

"I didn't want to." Sydney wipes her lips and sighs. "I really didn't."

"Didn't want to what?"

"Dance with him. That carrot." She groans. "I don't even like carrots. They're disgusting."

She sounds so damn distraught, I can't help but bust out laughing.

"It's okay, Sydney."

"It's not okay." Her head flops back on the pillow, hands coming up to cover her eyes. "I wanted to dance with you."

And suddenly I'm not laughing anymore.

"I know you did, baby," I murmur. Leaning forward, I rub a hand gently down her arm. "I did, too. Watching you with him...I was jealous. Jealous as fuck."

She spreads her fingers, peeking through at me. "You were?"

"Hell yeah I was." I force a smile and softly squeeze her wrist. "The only hands that should be on you are mine. Because you are mine, Sydney."

She lets both hands fall to the mattress and sadness flashes across her face.

"It doesn't feel like it. I hate this. Hate hiding our—" A yawn breaks her sentence. "Our...whatever this is."

So do I.

She blinks a few times, fighting hard to keep her eyes open, but her heavy eyelids win the battle.

"Lay down," I say. "Get some rest."

I help her get settled on her side, knees tucked into her middle and fists curled under her chin. After pulling the duvet cover over her body, I turn off the light.

Darkness drowns the room, the only light source the silver moonlight pouring through the blinds and striping the floors. Muffled sounds from students out and about float up to the dorm every so often, mixing with the steady click of the ceiling fan.

I run a hand through Sydney's thick hair and down her back, slow and soothing motions that relax her. She's so quiet, so still, I'm surprised to hear her voice a few minutes later.

"Cameron?"

My name sounds sweet as fucking sugar on her lips.

"Sydney."

Her eyes slowly flutter open, revealing those gorgeous indigo irises that render me speechless.

"Thanks for taking care of me," she whispers.

"I wouldn't wanna be doing anything else."

My words are soft. Sincere. With a small smile, she reaches a hand out and interlocks her fingers with mine.

"Stay until I fall asleep?"

"I'm not going anywhere," I promise her.

I've barely finished my sentence before she's out like a light.

I brush a few errant strands of dark hair from her forehead, fingertips dragging across her flushed skin. She breathes slow and steady, looking like a goddamn angel, and my chest swells.

It's in this moment that I realize I can't fucking do this anymore.

This 'behind closed doors' bullshit.

I can't pretend this is something casual or fleeting. Can't deny my true feelings, the ones that have been growing astronomically over the past few months.

There's no doubt in my mind that I'm falling in love with this girl.

And I want the whole damn world to know.