“Why didn’t you tell her about Cameron? I’m assuming Frankie doesn’t know either?”
I shove my hand into the candy bag, pluck out a gummy worm, and bite off its stupid, delicious head. “You know how my sisters are. They’re like dogs with a bone.”
She scoffs, giving me an incredulous smile. “Yeah, likeyou. You’re like a fucking bloodhound the moment you catch a scent of new information.”
I growl at her in reply, sounding suspiciously like the grumpy goalie meeting my sister tomorrow.
“Amelia will like Cameron,” she says.
Her reassurance might work if that’s what I was really worried about.
I have no doubt my oldest sister will adore him (after she grills him for approximately an hour). The issue is that she’ll ask about him for months after we inevitably break up. Or at least ask about him until I find someone new to date who’s half as interesting or good-looking or secretly sweet.
Ugh.
I feel like Eloise at the Plaza as I step into Cameron’s hotel room using the key he left for me at the front desk. Technically, family members and partners aren’t allowed to stay with players during away games, so Maya and I have our own room booked. We checked in, but said room will simply remain unoccupied while we break that particular rule.
The room has stunning floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Central Park, the open curtains framing the glittering skyline. The art on the walls is fancy. Like it’s curated rather than copy and paste. The king-size bed is covered in crisp white linensthat have a thread count higher than my credit score, and the bathroom visible through the half-open door looks like it has one of those rainfall showers I’ve only ever seen on home improvement shows.
Cameron arrived with the team this morning, and all over the room, I find evidence of him. His suitcase is splayed open on the luggage rack, a pair of his shoes next to the bed, one tipped on its side as if he kicked them off haphazardly. A sweatshirt (one I’ve been considering adding to my collection) is casually tossed on the couch, and a half-empty water bottle sits on the nightstand next to his phone charger.
It’s casual and comfortable and way too intimate. Because I’m here to play Cameron’s fake girlfriend. Nothing more.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I pull it out, his name flashes on my screen as if he could sense that I’m thinking about him.
Cameron Davies
You get in safely? Or was Alec the Ungrateful Bastard right to be worried about your driving skills?
Kennedy Caplan
I liked you better when you didn’t make jokes.
And you’re not one to judge, considering you drive like you’re personally offended by the existence of other cars.
But yes, just got to the hotel room.
Want to know who else is here?
I should wait until after the game to tell him we’re spending tomorrow morning with my sister, her husband, and my niece,but alas, I’m too antsy. If I have to be stressed about it the entire night, then he does, too.
Cameron Davies
Maya.
Kennedy Caplan
Well, yes, but my sister.
Cameron Davies
At the hotel?
Kennedy Caplan
No, in NYC.
Fun fact: Amelia and her family live in the Upper West Side.
