His mouth opens as if to speak, but nothing comes out. Instead, his lips morph into a hurt smile and he shakes his head as he marches toward me. I drop my shoes to the ground just as his hands push into my hair and his lips cover mine. I cling to his wrists and stand on the tips of my toes to meet his kiss, and when we break, he leaves his head against mine.
“Thank you for not being ashamed of me,” he says.
I cackle softly in disbelief.
“You shouldn’t have to say that. Don’t say that.”
I close my eyes and lower from my toes to stand with my feet flat on the ground. Cameron wraps his arms around me, holding my cheek against his chest as he sways back and forth. A soft rumble of laughter echoes from inside him.
“If you just kept those damn Lolobobo shoes on you wouldn’t have to stand on your toes to kiss me,” he teases.
I form a fist and play-punch at his pectoral.
“That’s not even close to their name, but yeah . . . you’re right.”
It feels safe here in his arms, even though every single person who passes by is staring at us long and hard. Okay, maybe noteveryperson, but the ones with big mouths are. I suppose this is one way to get it all over with at once.
McKenna Lowell walks right up to us. I see her coming from the side and step back, patting Cameron’s chest to get his attention in case she decides to slap him for hugging a girl that isn’t her after breaking up months ago.
“I hope you know he’s a cheating dog,” she says, her face mere inches from mine. I flinch and take a step back.
“Okay, well, that was a little hostile, and I appreciate your concern, but—”
“No, Brooklyn. You don’t understand. He’s a user. Cameron Hass is a user. He used me to get to my father and now he’s using you to get to yours.” She whips around, smacking my neck with her ponytail along the way, and pushes her finger in the center of Cameron’s chest. “You think you’re so charming, Cameron, but I see you. I see right through you. Wait until I tell Daddy aboutthisone! You know her dad and my dad are friends, right? Just wait.”
Her eyes squint as she mashes her teeth so hard I swear I hear a molar crunching under the pressure.
“I’m actually scared shitless of her dad, so you got that one wrong. And go ahead and talk to yours if you want. Let him know I finished that research pile he needed for Monday. I left a note on it but just in case.”
Cameron gives her a cocky shrug that seems to set her off even more. She makes a shrill sound through gritted teeth and bounces on her toes as if she’s boiling over. Flipping back to face me, she presses her palms against my cheeks, giving me fish lips. My eyes dart side to side in disbelief that she is touching me.
“Listen to me, Brooklyn. Run. Don’t walk,run.” Her hands fly away from my face, and she steps backward away from me, but not before eyeing Cameron one last time and letting out what I think is a low growl.
“Wow.” My mouth hangs open with my reaction as I turn back to Cameron. His eyes are as big as I think mine are.
“I’m really sorry she mushed your face like that. I think it will bounce back,” he jokes, placing his hands in the same spots and pretending to adjust the shape of my face.
“Ha ha, super funny. Seriously, though. Did you know that things with her were that level bad?”
My pulse is still racing from the spontaneous attack as Cameron moves his head side to side.
“I actually met her dad first, for what it’s worth. Our dates were his idea,” he says, wincing with a guilty face.
My face bunches, too.
“That’s somehow even more awkward,” I respond.
“Yeah. You know how guys are supposed to ask girls’ fathers for permission for things?”
“I mean, I think that applies for a hand in marriage, but I get your point,” I say.
“Yeah, well . . . I asked him for advice on how to break it off. He understood and honestly, I think the fact I came to him worried about making her upset made him somehow like me more. I’m actually kind of good, so maybe yours will like me, too.”
I bite my tongue and hold his gaze with tight lips and a sparse smile.
“Maybe,” I finally say, sliding my hands around his sides again and resting my ear against his heart. “Maybe,” I utter softly.
When pigs fly . . . and run for federal office.