“Nope. See you tomorrow.”
“Later,” I say.
“Yeah, later.”
He ends the call. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, completely disappointed with myself… once again.
Chapter Three
Austen
I stare at Cam’s number, debating if I should call him back.
He definitely sounded pissed. But why on earth would he be pissed off at me? I invited him tonight. He’s the one who bailed. Was it because I ate both drumsticks? No, that’s dumb. Cam always shares his food with me.
“There he is!” Paul shouts as he approaches me.
“Why the fuck do you look like a lost damn dog?” He huffs as I shrug.
“Nothing,” I say, closing my cell phone.
“Savannah giving you shit?” he asks, taking a drink from his glass.
“No, I, uh… was talking to Cam. Told him he should come and—”
“Kinda surprised he didn’t, honestly. He’s up your ass twenty-four seven,” Paul grunts.
A strange sense of worry falls over me. “I guess it’s not really his thing.”
It’s not my thing, either, but Cam doesn’t need an excuse. Preferring dick over tits and pussy is basically a Get Out of Strip Clubs free card.
Jealousy swells within me. Not only did henotcome with me, like we’d originally planned, but he was not at home working on homework, like he said he was going to do. Sure, he said he was at the club just now, but I know an echo in the bathroom when I hear one, and I know the tone of a man who just got laid.
Homework my ass. He probably never intended to do that at all.
I don’t know why I give a shit about what Cam does—or who, more accurately. I’m comfortable enough to admit he’s attractive, fun, and I know there are hundreds of guys out there who would jump at the chance to be with him. I want him to be happy, too.
But hookups in the bathroom ofParisaren’t what he deserves—since that’s probably where he is. It’s his go-to place. He’s better than that. I’ve told him as much, but the thing about Cameron Scott is he does what he wants.Wasn’t I just saying I liked that about him?
“He’s my best friend, we’re just… close.”
Paul scoffs, shaking his head.
“Yeah, whatever. You’re up, champ,” Paul says as he slams two crisp hundred dollar bills against my chest.
“Huh?” I ask, wrinkling the bills as I stare back at Paul who’s grinning ear to ear.
“Got you set up with Cinnamon over there.” He nods in the direction of a roped-off area with a woman in front of the tent—a fiery redhead with a plethora of tattoos along her hips and thighs and pierced nipples waves to me with a flirtatious wink, and my heart sinks.
“I’m good. Really—” I say, feeling flustered.
Paul wraps his arm around me, pulling me close.
“It’s on me, man,” he says with a grin. “Consider it an early wedding present.”
Shit, I’m not sure how to get out of this. If Cam was here, he’d find an excuse, or better, I’d find one. But without him, I’m left to be polite and accept Paul’s “gift.”
Maybe I should go in there and tell her the truth—that I’m not the kind of guy who does stuff like this, because I’m getting married in three months.
