“You’re young. You still use half years to describe your age.” Walker gulped his beer.
Cameron rolled his eyes. “Why is it that as soon as someone hits thirty, they think they belong in the AARP?”
“You think I just hit thirty?” Walker sat up a little straighter and checked himself out in the mirror behind the bar. He could see the exhaustion ringing his eyes and his hairline just starting its slow death march.
“Barely. Maybe a day ago.” Cameron was still close to him, still smellable. “You’re still hot for a senior citizen.”
Walker raised his beer and clinked it against Cameron’s empty bottle. Their arms rested against each other’s. They shared a silent moment that Walker felt throughout his body.
“We need to do something about that.” He nodded at Cameron’s empty bottle.
This time, Walker hailed the bartender.
“Teams, you have one more minute. When you’re finished, bring them up,” the MC barked into his microphone.
“Crap!” Cameron shouted.
“Le sports!”
Cameron slapped his hand on the answer sheet, reminding them of their mission. “Do you know any of these stadiums?”
Some looked familiar to Walker. He knew more about sports than Cameron, for sure, but not that much more.
“Do you see that basket of hipsters in the corner booth?” Cameron nodded behind him, and his description was pretty much spot on. “That’s Brain Trust. They’re here every week, and they always win, and they always act surprised and fake modest when they have to go up to accept their prize. And the leader of the group insists on making a speech.”
“For winning pub trivia?”
“This needs to end tonight.” Cameron handed him his pen. “Fight with us, Walker.”
Walker was able to write in a few answers, more than he originally thought. He could hear the clock ticking down the seconds in his head. It was stupid pub trivia, but he found himself getting into it. He wanted to do a good job for Cameron. He managed to fill in answers for every single stadium. “Here you go.”
As soon as he handed off the paper, Cameron ran it up to the MC. He thought the guy would go back to his friends, but to his pleasant surprise, Cameron returned to his spot, their arms touching on the bar.
“You may have won us the game,” Cameron said. “I think that calls for a shot.”
Walker waved a hand at the bartender. “On me. I don’t want to know how much you make at Starbucks.”
Cameron waved his hand over Walker’s hand. “On me. You may have helped us win a thirty-five dollar tab at the bar.”
Walker raised his hand higher than Cameron’s. Their arms were nearly intertwined. “On me. Because I’ve enjoyed talking with you.”
Cameron turned to him and flashed a thin-lipped smile that had mischief at the edges. “Who says we’re done talking?”
CHAPTER seven
Cameron
Cameron Buckley woke up in an empty bed. A very comfortable bed, with a thick, billowing comforter, smooth sheets that caressed his skin, and pillows his head sunk into like marshmallows. But an empty bed nonetheless.
And he was naked. He looked under the sheets to double check. Yep, naked.
He squinted at the sharp rays of sunlight streaming through the bedroom windows. Cameron surveyed his surroundings. He died and went to Crate & Barrel. He marveled at the details of this well-decorated room. The off-white walls and curved floor lamp in the corner. He ran his fingers across the mahogany night table. He stared at himself in the mirrored sliding closet door at the opposite end. His hair stuck up at all angles, and he was still naked.
“Good morning.” Walker charged back into the bedroom wearing nothing but a towel. He had given Cameron such a hard time last night about being older, but the guy was in better shape than many of the unkempt slobs that roamed Browerton’s campus.
“Did you sleep okay?” Walker asked.
“I think so?” Cameron rubbed at his temples and realized that he was hungover.
