I slip my feet from the Louboutins and turn my heel out under my chair so I can run my palm down my calf and onto the small blister forming along my tendon.
“If you didn’t wear Looloobobos you wouldn’t have this problem.” My hand halts at the sound of Cameron’s voice, and I both want to smile and shove him on his ass at the same time. After a breath, I continue to massage my calf.
“Yeah, well, I don’t have a date, so I had to make up for it with really amazing shoes.” My leg aches from spending hours on it helping my mom today, so I work the knee and thigh with both of my hands while trying not to look up and into the eyes that will slay me. I want to stay mad at him, even if he’s here, like I wished for him to be.
Irrational much?
My plan is foiled when he kneels in front of me and takes my foot in his palms and begins to rub. I stop short of actually sayingahhas he eases my tense muscles with his touch. His hands move up the sides of my leg but stop short of my knee. He’s aware of everyone around us. So am I. Everyone looking at us right now is aware that they are participating in a group activity. This is exactly the scene I thought he promised my dad he would avoid.
He stands up straight and my eyes follow his movement, betraying me and taking him in. Every last delicious inch of him.
“Dance with me.”
I glance around us and shake my head.
“Everyone is watching.”
Cam bends down and holds out his palm. His hair is damp from a hurried shower, his tie crooked and cuffs undone. He smells like whiskey and cinnamon.
“I know. But dance with me anyway.”
And then comes his crooked smile.
I’m on my feet before I realize it, swept up in his arms as my bare feet graze across the wood floor as everyone—my parents included—look on. I give in more, wrapping my arms around his neck and shoulders and stepping up so my feet are on his. His mouth dips into the crook of my neck as he laughs then presses a soft kiss against my hot skin.
“You showed,” I say.
“I did.” His lips graze my body as he speaks, causing my eyes to flutter closed.
“I thought you were worried about the press, and owing my father favors,” I say. I carefully note every set of eyes on us in the room. Lily and Morgan are dancing like a couple and grinning at me like fools. My mom, who I expect to look disgusted, considering she walked in on us sharing a bed, actually has a rather affectionate expression. Her eyes are soft, and she smiles as she talks to one of my father’s donors at her side. And my father, who has the most to lose, keeps pointing to us, almost as if he’s bragging.
He is bragging.
“Did he call you to come as a favor?” My insides twist, ready to rebel.
“Uh uh,” Cameron says in my ear. He briefly guides me away, spinning me on my toes under his arm then bringing me back in and lifting me to stand atop his shoes again. He keeps his hands on my back for support so I can see his eyes.
“This really politically savvy girl I knows told me that everyone is spinning stories all the time, and it got me thinking. Maybe I could spin something in my favor for once and be here with my girl.”
He lifts me and spins me around once, holding me up a little and drawing more attention our way. I scan the room, my cheeks burning from the attention. I smack at his arms and will him to bring me down.
“And how did you manage that?” My tummy is full of butterflies, the good kind, and they’re taking over my entire body. I’m tingling from head to toe, and I’m scared to give in so quickly.
Cameron stops our swaying and brings his hands up my sides to my shoulders, neck, jaw, until he’s cradling my face. His eyes penetrate mine, his full lips parting with a breath.
“I pointed out how my story is exactly the kind he’s running for. My dad’s story is his campaign promise. Building a state where everyone can live to their full potential.”
My mouth falls open then slowly spreads into a massively proud grin. I play shove at his chest then grab the lapel of his jacket along with his loose tie. “Damn, Cam. That’s really good.”
“I know,” he brags, his eyes drifting to one side for a beat.
The band kicks into a fast song just as he’s about to kiss me and I laugh. He does, too, only with less fervor and no intention of stopping us from taking it slow.
“I think they’re about to launch into the Prince medley,” I say.
Cameron glances up for a few seconds, seeming to focus on the beat and melody. Once he recognizes it, he mouths, “Let’s go crazy,” in my face then tilts my head just enough to give his lips room to take over mine completely. I remain on his feet, floating somewhere above Earth for at least six of Prince’s greatest hits. Nobody is ever going to get away with saying Cameron Hass is bad for me again. And if I have to get a black belt to defend his honor, I guess I will.
Epilogue