A frown pulled at Jacob’s lips. “Tell me or I’m going to start shouting you kissed—”
“Okay,” I hissed, my entire body heating. The first kiss had been tender and soft. Even the second one had been a controlled exploration, but when I had laid back and he’d hovered over me? The ache was back just thinking about it, and well, that was awkward being that I was in history class. “He kissed me like he wanted to… eat me up.”
Brit giggled around her Twizzler.
Jacob’s mouth worked for several seconds and then, “I bet he did.” His brows were raised as he jerked his chin down. “Like he really wanted to eat—”
“I get what you’re saying. Thanks. Back to the important stuff,” I said, placing my notebook on my desk. “You don’t think going home with him is insane?”
Brit shook her head. “People go home with other people all the time. You know Rachel Adkins, right? She’s in your art class. She’s going home with Jared instead of flying back out to California.”
“Aren’t those two dating?” Jacob asked.
My shoulders slumped.
“Not anymore,” Brit said, pulling a Twizzler from her pack. She pointed the ropey red candy at me. “They broke up, but she still goes home with him.”
Still didn’t make me feel that much better about this. Throughout class, I alternated between paying attention to the lesson on the Middle Ages and wondering if I was really going to go through this next week while I nibbled on the Twizzler I’d swiped from Brit’s bag.
The truth was that going home with Cam wasn’t really even the issue. Yeah, it was about twenty-one flavors of crazy, but a huge part of me was even looking forward to it. I wanted to know more about Cam—to see his family and how he interacted with them. I wanted to know why he quit playing soccer and what he did every Friday night.
And I wanted… I wanted Cam.
In the way I hadn’t wanted a guy before, hadn’t even thought I’d truly be capable of wanting one. What I felt when he had kissed me was what I was supposed to feel. A tiny bit of panic had been there, was still there, but the curiosity overwhelmed that fear. So did the baffling warmth I felt whenever Cam was near.
There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to kiss Cam again. I wanted to experience what I had after he’d left with him. Kissing him wasn’t the problem. Going home wasn’t the problem.
I just didn’t know how much of this I was capable of. How far this—whatever it was—would actually go before old fears overshadowed the warmth.
#
Over the next week, I talked myself into and out of going with Cam about a million times. Right up to the moment I packed a weekender bag, I wavered back and forth. It wasn’t until I was sitting beside him in his truck Wednesday morning when I realized I was really doing this.
“Are you sure your parents are okay with this?”
Cam nodded. I’d only asked the question around a hundred times.
I started nibbling on my thumb. “And you did actually call them and ask, right?”
He slid me a sideway look. “No.”
My jaw hit me lap. “Cam!”
Tipping his head back, he laughed deeply. “I’m kidding. Chill out, Avery. I told them the day after you said you’d go. They know you’re coming and they’re excited to meet you.”
Glaring at him, I went back to chewing on my nail. “That wasn’t funny.”
He laughed again. “Yes, it was.”
“Jerk.”
“Nerd.”
I stared out the passenger window. “Bitch-ass.”
“Oh.” Cam whistled. “Them be fighting words. Keep it up and I’ll turn this truck around.”
I grinned as we hit I70. “Sounds like a good idea.”
“You’d be distraught and in tears.” There was a pause. He reached over, pulling my hand away from my mouth. “Stop doing that.”
“Sorry.” I glanced at him. “It’s a bad habit.”
“It is.” He threaded his fingers through mine, and my heart skipped a beat. Our joined hands rested on my thigh, and I wasn’t sure what to think about that. “My sister won’t be home until early tomorrow morning. She’s doing a show in Pittsburg tonight.”
“What kind of show?” My gaze flicked from our hands to the window and back again.
“I think it’s a ballet recital.”
My attention was focused partly on the weight of his hand in mine. “Is ballet her favorite?”
“I think it’s a mix between that and contemporary.”
Contemporary used a lot of ballet and it would make sense that she’d like a mixture of those. Cam eventually let go of my hand, which was a good thing because I was sure my palm was starting to sweat and that was just gross. The two hour drive went by way too fast. It seemed like minutes had passed by the time he got off the interstate and entered a small, hilly town that seemed to have been built into the side of the mountain.