“Okay,” Dawson said. Because he was going to do it again, and hedidn’twant to feel guilty about it.
“Good.” Aidan gave him a nod and, as they got up from the table, a quick hug. “Don’t forget that, okay?”
As Dawson walked back to his building, he couldn’t helpbutthink about it.
Sure, Dawson had an empty apartment waiting for him. But Cam’s apartment was almost certainly empty too. They didn’thaveto be alone, now. They got along great. Dawson thought he could even hang out in companionable silence with Cam. And the sex had beenhot, with indicators pointing towards it getting even better the more comfortable they became with each other.
Before he could overthink it, he pulled out his phone.You around?he sent.
Chapter 12
Camwasslumpedonhis couch, movie playing on the TV, but he wasn’t watching it.
He was staring at his phone, trying not to be a creeper as he attempted to justify texting Dawson.
It’s been less than twelve hours.
But he looked like he didn’t even want you to go.
Normally, Cam wouldn’t have overthought this. If he’d wanted to text, he’d have texted. Said something casual and simple. Notu up?but something similar, maybe.
Sure, Dawson was a teammate, but he’d hooked up with teammates before. It hadstillnever felt as loaded as it did with him.
Maybe it was the way he’d woken up and the first thing he’d seen had been Dawson’s face, toothpaste still crusted in the corner of his lips. Hazel eyes bright and delighted that Cam was still here, still in his bed.
That was some permanently brain-altering shit. Or else, it seemed like it was, because here was Cam, obsessing overcomposing the perfect text that might draw Dawson down to his apartment.
“Fuck it,” Cam said, and began to type out,your apt is probably just as empty as mine. you wanna—
But before he could finish typing, a text appeared above it. A text from Dawson.You around?
Cam legitimately dropped his phone on the couch in surprise and then scrambled to pick it back up again. Had he? Hehad.
Cam sucked in a hard breath. Shit. Shit.Shit.
Yeah,he sent back. Then stupidly hitsendbefore he could add more. Now he was going to double text, like a doofus. But then, Dawson was old. He might not know how bad double texting was. So he added,In my apartment.
Then groaned out loud, because that was even worse. He was going to have to add another one.
Triple texting. Everyone Cam had ever known was going to be embarrassed by him right now.
587,he sent next.
Five minutes later, Cam had barely had time to check his hair in the mirror before there was a knock on the door.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, telling himself that this didn’tmeananything, only that Dawson was probably horny and lonely—same as him—and went to open it.
Dawson was dressed in a smart wool coat, the shoulders and the crown of his head dusted with droplets of rain, and dark jeans. He looked good enough to eat, and here Cam was in a ratty pair of ancient gray sweatpants and an even more ancient Western T-shirt.
“Hey,” Cam said, trying to sound normal about this as he opened the door wider, letting Dawson in.
Dawson walked in and shot Cam a smirk. “Triple texting, dude?”
Cam flushed warm. “Guess you’re notthatold.”
Giving him a look, Dawson gave the apartment a vague look around. “Notthatold,” he confirmed, his smirk deepening as he unbuttoned his coat and hung it up, right next to Cam’s. Setting his shoes right next to Cam’s sneakers. He was wearing a dark blue button-up underneath, the sleeves rolled up to expose a very nice pair of forearms.
No question, there was a part of Cam that wanted to lead him right to the bedroom—their apartments were laid out the same way, so Dawson would know where it was—but before he could, Dawson wandered into the living room.
