She shrugs, biting down on her plump lower lip. “I got hungry, and I need to refill Chanel’s water.”
“I could make something,” I offer. “I’m hungry too.”
“Okay, thanks.” She rounds the corner and sits in the recliner. “Wanna watch the first episode while I cook? Or I can give you a recap and catch you up?”
“Sure, I’ll start it, and you can fill me in on the rest when you’re back,” she says sweetly. The tension in the room is so thick, I nearly choke on it, but we’re not bickering, so I won’t set her off on purpose.
I restart the first episode and smirk. “Get ready for the best shitshow of your life.”
Cami shivers and reaches for a throw blanket.
“Are you cold?” I ask. “I can make a fire.” One of the best things about this cabin is the wood-burning fireplace. None of that propane, press a button crap.
Yesterday, I noticed there wasn’t much wood left, but maybe enough to last tonight. There might be more in the shed, but if not, I’ll have to chop some so we have it for the next few weeks.
“Yeah, that’d be nice,” she answers.
I get it started, and her face contorts when the first episode begins. It makes me laugh.
“This is what you’ve been watching?” She looks just as confused as I was.
“Hey, I’m blaming it on the quarantine. Plus, the memes I’ve seen for this are fucking hilarious, so I had to see it for myself. So far, it hasn’t disappointed in the entertainment department.”
“But why does he look like that?” She cringes, curling her legs underneath her and settling into the seat. She’s more invested than she’s willing to admit.
I dig through the fridge and pantry, trying to figure out what to make us. I’m in the mood for some comfort food, and when I see the can of tomato soup, I remember how she said she was craving a grilled cheese sandwich yesterday.
Grabbing all the ingredients, I put together four sandwiches and two bowls of soup, then grab a few napkins. It looks so damn good, I’m ready to dive in before I deliver it to her.
“Oh my God. That smells heavenly,” she says, moaning when I set it all on the coffee table. She perks up, her mouth opening in surprise. “You remembered. Thought you said I had to make this for you?” She raises her brows.
“Sounded too good to risk you screwing it up,” I tease.
She stares at me for a moment, her eyes softening as I meet her gaze. “Thank you for this.”
“You’re welcome.” I take a seat on the couch and reach for one of the plates and bowls. “I wasn’t sure if you liked extra cheese in your tomato soup, but I sprinkled some in anyway.” I grin, remembering how dead set she was on eating low-fat cheese when we arrived.
“Mmm.” She hums around a spoonful. “So good.”
“You better calm down over there. You’re getting my dick excited with all that moaning.”
Cami quickly covers her mouth as she spurts hot liquid from her lips. Her shoulders bounce up and down as she laughs, trying to swallow down the soup. “Don’t say shit like that when I’m eating.” She wipes her mouth on a napkin.
Chuckling, I shrug. “Sorry. Don’t moan like that then.” Though I really like hearing it come from her. Especially when she’s underneath me.
“I was moaning about the food,” she emphasizes. “Quit being a perv.”
I flash a smirk when she glares at me. “Don’t make noises that remind me what it felt like having your mouth on me.”
She blushes, and instead of throwing a retort at me, she focuses on the TV and tries to ignore me. It’s cute, but this is just foreplay for me.
Driving Cami insane the same way she drove me wild is just the beginning of what I know is to come.
Chapter Thirteen
CAMERON
DAY 7
I’ve been at the Roxbury cabin for a week, and somehow, it feels like a month has passed. Though it hasn’t been horrible, it’s been a drastic change from my normal routine.
My daily schedule used to consist of two to four classes, meeting up with friends for lunch or a quick shopping trip, and then studying for a bit before Zane and I went out for dinner. On the days I only had a couple of classes, I’d work out or go to a yoga class with Kendall. We’d also do spa days every week that consisted of pedis, manis, and body waxes. Massages were a bi-weekly adventure, and my hair would get cut or colored every four weeks. If the paparazzi are going to take pictures of me, the least I could do was try to look put together to avoid their criticism, but that didn’t always work. They’d catch me off guard, then blast rumors. Oftentimes, I wouldn’t feel good enough based on what they wrote, and my self-esteem would take a hit. Regardless of their opinions, I took so much for granted and kinda miss my old lifestyle. I don’t know if things will ever be like it was before. In a few months, I’ll be graduating with my undergrad degree, then I’ll start my postgraduate classes. Eventually, I’ll take over more responsibility in the company while I finish my master’s, and then I will shift to a higher position. I shouldn’t complain, but I’m grieving everything I was accustomed to.
But it could definitely be worse, so I’m counting my blessings. I remind myself this isn’t forever. It’s temporary, and if Ryan and all the other essential workers can risk their lives and work on the front lines, then I can suck it up and stay here for as long as it takes.
After my embarrassing tantrum in front of Eli yesterday, I know I’m slowly losing it. Being trapped here should be fucking easy. I’m safe. I have everything I need and more, but I’m going stir-crazy without being able to see my classmates, professors,
