Chapter 3
~ Hayley ~
I wait, hoping that the sexy stranger in front of me will tell me his name before I decide to get in his truck. I have forty minutes to get to class, and it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to turn down my ride, but I’d feel a little more at ease if I can put a name to the picturesque face staring at me with an amused expression. He takes a step closer to me and I have to resist the innate urge to step back. I don’t feel threatened, or in danger, but I’m still cautious. The old Hayley wouldn’t have given this a second thought. She might’ve even considered doing dirty things with this stranger in return for his help. But I’m not that girl anymore. And now, more than ever, I’m trying to prove that.
“I promise, Hayley,” he says gently. The way he says my name is distracting. “I’m not a serial killer, and I won’t try any funny business. At least not until I know you a little better.” He grins, a dimple forming on each cheek, and the tension evaporates from my shoulders. His easy-going demeanor is infectious and I can’t help but return his smile.
“How can I trust you if I don’t know your name?” I tease.
“What makes you think you can trust me?” he retorts.
I scan his face. “I’ll take my chances,” I say confidently. “Your tattoos don’t make you look as scary as you’d think.”
He smirks. “You’ve been checking out my ink. You like it?”
I look down, hiding my blush, and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I like his ink more than I’m willing to admit, but he doesn’t need to know that. I don’t even know him.
“Alright, that blush in your cheeks has convinced me,” he continues. “I’m Cameron.” He sticks his hand out and I shake it. “Now, will you get in the truck so we can get to class?” he adds. I nod and he helps me into the truck before making his way to the driver’s side. The truck roars to life and ‘Cruise’ by Florida Georgia Line blares through the radio. Cameron reaches over and turns it down. “Sorry,” he chuckles. “I like the music loud.”
“It’s fine,” I reply. “I like this song.”
“You like Country music?” he asks incredulously. I try my best not to look affronted.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
He shrugs sheepishly. “You look like more of a ‘Pop’ music kind of girl.”
I snort. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“I’m not disappointed,” he mumbles. I’m sure he had no intention of me hearing that so I don’t respond. Instead, I sit in an awkward silence as we pull onto the road and hum along quietly to the song playing through the speakers. After a few minutes, Cameron breaks the silence, forcing me to look at him.
“Are you new in town?” he asks. “I’ve never really seen you around here.”
“I guess you could say that.” There’s no way I’m telling him that I’ve been in hiding for the last two years. That’s not something I plan on explaining to a stranger. Or anyone, for that matter. I’ve worked hard to leave my past behind me and I have no intention of digging it up. No one knows the old Hayley, and that’s the way I’d like to keep it.
“What about you?” I ask, genuinely interested. “What’s your story?”
Cameron looks at me briefly and then focuses his attention back on the road. “Aside from being a serial killer?” he snickers. Admittedly, the serial killer comment wasn’t my finest moment, but it slipped out before I could stop it. I try to hide my embarrassment but Cameron’s knowing grin lets me know that he sees it anyway. “I was born here,” he continues. “Haven’t found a good enough reason to leave yet.”
The cab of the truck falls silent again and I take the opportunity to look at him. Short, brown locks graze his forehead, the hair on the sides of his head shaved a little shorter. His white t-shirt molds to his torso and shows off a broad set of shoulders and well-defined pectoral muscles. The colors of his tattoo show through his shirt and continue until his elbow. I can’t make out what it is, but I’m very much intrigued. It looks like legs, extending to his elbow, and maybe angel wings of some kind. My eyes travel lower, to where his jeans fit snuggly around his waist and tighten around his thighs. His height gives him a leaner appearance and it’s obvious he works out, but he lacks the bulkiness associated with football players.
“You done staring holes into my body?” he asks, still staring at the road.
My head whips up. I start to say something but decide against it before I say anything else to humiliate myself. Great first impression, Hayley.
“Don’t worry, you’re not the first girl to undress me with her eyes or be rendered speechless by my charm.”
The arrogance that drips from his words does confusing things to my head. I can’t decide if I like it or not. My eyebrows lift. “Kinda cocky, aren’t you?”
“I’m that too,” he counters, waggling his eyebrows. The innuendo doesn’t go unnoticed. The sexual tension intensifies, just a smidge, and my body feels warmer.
Cameron bursts into laughter and I look at him bemused. “What’s so funny?”
“You,” he says emphatically. “I can almost hear what you’re thinking and I know it’s not virtuous. Your body betrays you too easily, especially that gorgeous face.”
“Oh, really? And pray tell, what is my traitorous body telling you?”
His eyes grow a little darker. “You’re thinking about what my ink looks like under my shirt. And you’re wondering just how ‘cocky’ I am.”
I stare at him, my mouth dropping open and then closing again like a fish. How the hell did he do that?
“No, I’m not,” I lie. “You couldn’t be more wrong.” My shaky voice exposes my omission and even I don’t believe the words coming out of my mouth.
Cameron parks his truck, turns off the ignition and faces me. I notice then that his eyes are a mixture of blue and gray, giving them a mercurial glint, like they could possibly change with his moods. “Ya know, I really hope you’re not studying Law.”
I frown, caught off guard by his statement. “Why’s that?”
“Because you suck at lying.”
A bubble of laughter bursts free from my chest and I cup my mouth to silence my snort. I reach for the door and climb out, catching my breath. Cameron meets me in front of his truck. “I need your number, and your address,” he says.
“A serial killer and a stalker?” I tease, reaching into my bag for a pen. I write down my number and my address before handing the piece of paper over. He takes out his phone, punches my number in and I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. He cuts the call.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say. “And for having my car towed.”
“No problem. I’ll have to think of an appropriate way for you to return the favor.” He winks.
“Yeah, whatever you’re thinking, it’s not going to happen. So why don’t we say our goodbyes and go our separate ways?”
Cameron shakes his head. “No, that just won’t work.”
He reaches into my bag and pulls out another piece of paper, scribbling something before handing it back to me. I read the messy script.
U.O.ME.
Signed: Cameron Argent.
When I look up, Cameron is already walking away. He turns back to look at me, his shoulders shaking with his silent laughter. Bastard. I can’t fight the smile that breaks across my face. After an emotional start at the daycare center, I feel better. And it’s all thanks to Cameron Argent.
** ** **
I make it to class with fifteen minutes to spare. The professor hasn’t arrived yet, so I walk in and choose a seat in the middle. A few more students huddle together in the back row of desks, but other than that, there aren’t many of us. I had no idea what to expect from my first ‘Journalism Fundamentals’ class but I’m excited nonetheless. I take a seat and bend down to pull out my notebook when a commotion at the door stops me.
A girl walks in, fury written all over her face, and spins around to glare at the guy behind her. Her black hair is tied in a messy bun on top of her head and she’s wearing gray yoga pants with a black tank top. The other students grow silent, engrossed with the scene in the front of the classroom.
“F*ck you, Marcus!” the girl yells. “Don’t call me ever again!”
She turns away from him but he grabs her arm and spins her around. “Baby, please,” he pleads. “Don’t do this. We can work this out. It’s just a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding?” she spits back. “Please, tell me how I can misunderstand catching you and my roommate doing it doggie style in my dorm room! I’d love to see you explain yourself out of this one!”
My eyes grow wide. This looks like an episode out of ‘Jersey Shore’, minus the fake tans.
“I’m sorry, baby,” the guy whines. “It won’t happen again.”
The girl looks at him like he’s completely crazy. “Oh, yes it will. Only this time, you’ll be single to f*ck whoever you want, you lying piece of shit!” Her hand lifts and a loud ‘smack’ echoes through the classroom as it makes contact with the guy's cheek. There’s a collective gasp followed by a round of applause and the guy has no choice but to leave, his wounded pride tucked away in is back pocket. The door closes and the girl takes a dramatic bow. She makes her way towards me and falls into the seat next to mine.
“Can you believe that f*cker?” she asks rhetorically. “Sticks his dick into someone else’s hoo-ha and thinks I’ll take him back.” Her chest heaves slightly as she tries to reign in her anger. “And you know what the worst part is?” She looks at me but doesn’t wait for me to answer. “He’s got Limp Dick Syndrome!”
The other students, still listening to her outburst, break into another round of hysterics and soon we’re all laughing. The girl sticks out her hand. “I’m Hannah,” she says. “And we’re going to be the best of friends.”
I smile back, liking her immediately. “Hayley.”
The professor walks in and the noise dies down. Since it is our first class, the professor just goes over the syllabus and class doesn’t last the full hour. I walk out and Hannah steps up to my side, threading her arm through mine. “C’mon, Hayley, let’s go grab coffee. We have an hour off before our photojournalism class,” she says.
“How do you know that’s my next class?”
Her eyes roll. “I looked at your schedule,” she pauses. “And now that I know we’ll be best friends, I’m going to buy you a Latte and tell you all my inappropriate secrets, and what turns me on.”
Oh yes, I definitely like this girl.
We take a seat in the crowded coffee shop, sipping our Lattes, and Hannah launches into a full discussion about her turbulent relationship with Marcus. I find myself laughing at her dramatic reenactments of their sex life, while she returns the dirty looks of passing students who happen to overhear her. Something about the way she talks so freely, and without restraint, reminds me of who I was before. But not in a sad way. It only makes me wish I could find the courage to let go of the secrets that I’m ashamed of, and embrace the direction my life has taken.
When the remainder of our classes are done, Hannah gives me a ride home and I’m surprised to find my Mini parked outside my grandmother's house. I pull out my phone and see a message from an unknown number.
I made sure your car was dropped off. Maybe next time, you can give me a ride.
Cameron.
I smile.
My fingers glide over the screen as I respond.
Tnks. But I don’t get into cars with serial killers or stalkers. Better luck next time ;) x
He doesn’t reply and as much as I’d like for our banter to continue, I’m glad it doesn’t. He’s nice to look at, that’s for damn sure, but I can’t afford becoming ‘interested’ in more than a possible friendship, especially when I come as a ‘2 for the price of 1’ special.