LITMIR.BIZ

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most girls. That interests me. You’re awkward in this really … adorable way. You’re smart. Want me to list more?’

      ‘No. Not at all,’ I told him quickly. I needed to nip this in the bud. Reputation aside, he was a hell of a lot more than I could ever hope to handle. He would expect things I couldn’t give him. Holding a conversation with him was difficult enough sometimes. ‘I don’t want to go out on a date with you.’

      Cam didn’t look surprised by my response, or the least bit daunted. ‘I figured you’d say that.’

      ‘Then why did you ask?’

      He finally—thank God—backed away and gripped the side of the door. ‘Because I wanted to.’

      ‘Oh. Well. Okay. Glad you got it out of your system.’

      His brows knitted. ‘I haven’t gotten it out of my system.’

      Oh no. ‘You haven’t?’

      ‘Nope.’ He flashed a charming grin. ‘There’s always tomorrow.’

      ‘What about tomorrow?’

      ‘I’ll ask you again.’

      I shook my head. ‘The answer will be the same.’

      ‘Maybe. Maybe not.’ He reached out and tapped the tip of my nose. ‘And maybe you’ll say yes. I’m a patient guy, and hey, like you said, I don’t give up easily.’

      ‘Great,’ I muttered, but … oh, oh man, there was an unfamiliar stirring in my chest.

      ‘Knew you’d see it that way.’ Cam tweaked the tip of my nose, and I swatted his hand away. ‘Don’t worry. I know the truth.’

      ‘The truth about what?’

      Cam stepped back. ‘You want to say yes, but you’re just not ready.’

      My jaw dropped.

      ‘It’s okay.’ His grin turned cocky. ‘I’m a lot to handle, but I can assure you, you’ll have fun handling me.’

      Then before I could muster up a response worthy of that statement, he tapped my nose once more and then shut the door in my face.

      Back in my apartment, I dropped my bag on the couch and collapsed next to it. Go out on a date with Cameron? Was he insane? He had to be joking or just flirting. On the ride home, he hadn’t mentioned it again; instead he spent the time drilling me about my schedule. Question by question, he dragged out every detail about the classes I was taking. By the time we got back to the building, I was exhausted.

      Leaning my head back against the cushion, I closed my eyes. My heart was beating pretty fast for just sitting down. Was he being serious about not hooking up with Stephanie on Wednesday? Seemed odd to me that he hadn’t if she really had been all over him.

      Honestly, it didn’t matter.

      I couldn’t do a relationship of any sort. Maybe one day. Hopefully one day, because I didn’t want to be like this for the rest of my life. Eventually I wanted to be the girl who got excited about being asked out on a date instead of the girl who came home and did this.

      Opening my eyes, I groaned. ‘I’m Señor Fucktard. Or Señorita Fucktard.’

      I pushed to my feet and started halfway to the bedroom before I remembered my vibrating bag. ‘Shit.’

      Hurrying back to the couch, I reached into the side pocket and pulled out my cell. I tapped the screen, fully expecting to see a text from Jacob or Brittany pop up. Instead I saw a missed call and a voice-mail message.

      ‘What the hell?’

      I ran my fingers along the side and figured out I’d knocked the damn thing to silent. Sliding my figure along the screen, I unlocked it and saw that the call was from an UNKNOWN CALLER.

      My heart skipped a beat.

      No big deal. Probably a wrong call or a telemarketer. I went to the voice-mail screen, and my finger hovered over the delete button. The past raised its ugly, bitter head. How many times had I gotten prank calls from people blocking their numbers? Too many to count, but that couldn’t be it. My number was new, like my e-mail …

      I cursed again.

      Taking a deep breath, I hit the message icon and raised the phone to my ear. There was a pause and then a gravelly, indistinguishable voice crackled through the phone. ‘You know what happens to liars and skanks? They get a big, fat—’

      Crying out, I hit the delete button before I could hear anything more. I dropped the phone on the couch instead of tossing it against the wall and backed up like it was some kind of venomous creature perched on the cushions.

      Any method of communication could become poisonous. Didn’t I already know that firsthand? A strangled laugh escaped me. Really, did they have nothing better to do? It had been five years. Five years! They couldn’t let go of the past.

      Just like, deep down, I couldn’t.

       Chapter 7

      I jerked straight up in bed, confused and disoriented. It was damn near close to four A.M. when I’d finally fallen asleep and I had no idea what woke me. I twisted in bed, groaning when I saw that it was only eight in the morning.

      On a Sunday.

      Flopping onto my back, I stared up at the ceiling. Once I was awake, there was no hope of ever—

      Thump. Thump. Thump.

      I sat up again, frowning. Someone was banging on a door—my door. What the hell? Throwing off the covers, I swung my legs off the bed. My toe caught on the sheet and I nearly ate the carpet.

      ‘Holy crap.’

      Cursing, I raced through the apartment before the entire building was woken up. I stretched up, peering through the peephole. All I could see was a mass of wavy dark hair. Cam?

      Something had to be wrong. Maybe the building was on fire, because I couldn’t think of any other reason why he’d be banging on my door on a Sunday morning.

      ‘Is everything okay?’ I winced at the sound of my voice as I opened the door.

      Cam spun around. A crooked smile appeared, taking his already extraordinary face and making it boyishly sexy. ‘No, but it will be in about fifteen minutes.’

      ‘W-w-what?’ I stepped—or was forced—aside as he entered my apartment, carrying something wrapped in tinfoil: a carton of eggs—huh?—and a tiny frying pan. ‘Cam, what are you doing? It’s eight in the morning.’

      ‘Thanks for the update on the time.’ He headed straight for my kitchen. ‘It’s one thing I’ve never been able to master: the telling of time.’

      I frowned as I padded after him. ‘Why are you here?’

      ‘Making breakfast.’

      ‘You can’t do that in your own kitchen?’ I ask, scrubbing at my eyes. After the astronomy assignment and the phone call, he was the last person I wanted to see at a buttcrack time in the morning.

      ‘My kitchen isn’t as exciting as yours.’ He put his stuff on the counter and faced me. His hair was damp and curlier than normal. How was it possible for him to look so good when it was obvious he’d just rolled out of bed and showered? There wasn’t even a dusting of morning scruff on his smooth cheeks. And he made sweats and a plain old T-shirt look damn good. ‘And Ollie is passed out on the living room floor.’

      ‘On the floor?’

      ‘Yep. Facedown, snoring and drooling a little. It’s not an appetizing atmosphere.’

      ‘Well, neither is my apartment.’ He needed to go. He had no business being here.

      Cam

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