In some ways, they were both still figuring their shit out. Cam because he was starting out. Dawson because he was startingover.
“You’re a good kid,” Dawson said.
Cam made a face. “I’m—”
“Yeah, yeah. Twenty-two. A full-grown adult. Not a kid. I should know better. Aidan got so much flack for continuing to call Riley a kid long past when he actually was.”
“Wait,” Cam said, no longer stuck on the fact that Dawson kept trying to push him into ado not touchbox. “He called Riley—as inRiley Flynn,who won a Super Bowl—a kid?”
“Literally called him ‘the kid,’” Dawson confirmed, nodding gravely. “Like I said, not a smart guy. Not crush-worthy. Puking in bushes and calling his Super Bowl–winning brother a kid.”
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” he teased. If Dawson was, wouldn’t that be something? Real jealously,uglyjealousy was different, but a little dose of healthy envy? When it might motivate Dawson to maybe make a bad idea a reality? Cam wouldn’t be against that.
“Hell no,” Dawson said. “Why would I be jealous of Aidan? He has to put up with Levi’s ugly-ass shorts, and besides, you’re here, right now, onmycouch.” He even had the nerve to look smug about it.
So smug that Cam really had to wonder if maybe the bad idea was beginning to look a little less bad, even to Dawson. It sure was to him.
“Levi’s shorts, they’re . . .uh . . .bright for sure,” Cam said.
“Practically fucking eye-searing,” Dawson agreed. “Besides, you’re my rookie. Not his.” He glanced over at Cam then, expectantly, like he wanted Cam to confirm that was true.
Dawson must be freaking blind, because Cam had beenhisrookie from the first time they’d met, at training camp. Dawson sauntering in like he owned the place, dark curly hair mussed, his intent hazel eyes taking in every single inch of Cam. Like they were taking him apart. Seeing exactly how he ticked.
Cam might’ve gotten off about it that night. Just that look in Dawson’s eyes—Dawson Hall, looking athim—had been enough. Even the memory was enough now, coupled with the easy companionship of this afternoon, for Cam’s cock to twitch about it.
Not now. Not when we’re still convincing him it’s a good idea, Cam told it.Or a not-bad idea.
“Not gonna complain about that,” Cam said lightly. He had a feeling if he made it too serious—made it into something that wasn’t just “fun” or a “distraction”—then Daws might freak out about it.
“Good.” Dawson nodded, sounding satisfied with that.
They sat there for a minute in silence. Dawson had more of a view than Cam’s sliver. Not much, but a few more inches, and it was nice to see the dusk falling down on Lake Ontario. They hadn’t had bodies of water in Montana, not where Cam lived anyway, and it was easy not to take it for granted.
Dawson turned to him. “You didn’t decide to stay in the hotel the night before?”
“Nah,” Cam said. “Picked my bed out ’cause I liked it so much, so why would I want to sleep anywhere else, if I can help it? Besides, it’s not like I have a lot of distractions at my place.”
“Same,” Dawson said. Then he glanced over at Cam again. Cam wasn’t counting, but it definitely wasn’t the first time. Or the first time his eyes flicked to Cam’s lips, before risingupwards, to a safer zone. Hewasthinking about it, enough that Cam hoped he might change his mind.
“Thought you wanted a distraction?” Cam teased, elbowing him gently. “Why else am I around?”
“You’re more than that.” Dawson looked surprised by his own admission. “I mean, dude, I like you. You’re a chill person. Always pumping my ego.”
“And you think I’m attractive,” Cam said, waggling his eyebrows. “You said so yourself.”
Dawson laughed. “Shit, I created a monster, didn’t I?”
He had, but Dawson had yet to comprehend what kind, and if that was true, Cameron wasn’t about to enlighten him.
“I’m an angel.”
“Fuck, that’s not even remotely true,” Dawson said, not sounding upset by this possibility at all.
“Aw,” Cam said, pouting. “I’m hurt.”
Dawson smacked him on the thigh. The pain smarted for a second, but Cam only wished it would’ve hurt more. For longer. Not because he was a masochist or liked pain with sex, but because he might’ve felt Dawson’s touch linger longer.
“No, you’re not. Not even close. You love it.”
