“Oh my God.”
“Sorry.”
I lean back on my hands, lounging. “Where are your bad influences now?” I ask. “How come they aren’t at Brooks Academy?”
“They took off to California.”
My mouth opens. “Are the police after them?”
“No,” Cameron says. “I copped to it all, and my dad paid for the damages. He was embarrassed. Here he was, the school’s biggest benefactor, and his fuckup son ruined the place. Made for some tense family dinners.”
“I bet. Does he hate you now?”
“What? No, he’s my father.” His voice tells me he thinks it’s a crazy statement. Obviously he’s never met my father. And he never will.
“So tell me,” I ask, “have you always been a troublemaker?”
“Yep. Haven’t you heard? Money doesn’t buy happiness. Just really nice cars.”
“Ah. I may have heard that somewhere.”
Cameron sighs. “My father planned on me becoming a lawyer,” he says. “But that’s not me. I like doing what I want.” He grins. “You know, like meeting girls at 7-Eleven and buying them Blow Pops.”
“Lucky me.”
“So lucky,” he agrees.
“Why didn’t you go to California with your friends?” I ask, even though I’m glad he didn’t.
“My dad can be very persuasive.” He pauses. “Wait, you trying to get rid of me, Sutton?”
“No,” I say more seriously than I mean to.
“No?”
I need to straighten up, say something else to cover my admission of wanting him around, but I don’t move. Then Cameron lies back on his bed, casually folding his hands behind his head, practically inviting me to climb on top of him. He’s so damn smooth.
My fingers are trembling. We don’t say anything, but we’re staring at each other, maybe each of us wondering who’ll make the first move. I think about lying next to him, shoulder to shoulder.
“Want to stay for dinner?” Cameron offers. He says it so casually, like we’re regular people who spend entire days together all the time.
“I’ve got my own house,” I say. “And, you might not know this about me, but I’m a master chef.”
“Really?”
“You like mac ’n’ cheese?” I ask.
He bites back his smile. “Sort of.”
“Do you like hot dogs?”
He laughs. “No.”
“Too bad. My dogs ’n’ cheese are the best in town.”
“Wow,” he says, like he’s impressed. “That . . . well, that sounds goddamn disgusting. You should definitely stay. We could get a pizza. Plus . . . it would really help me out. My mom wants to believe I’m well adjusted.”
“Are you well adjusted?”
