Warning: RWB spoilers ahead.
Some say the best love stories often take time.
Emery Chernychevsky has had a crush on Cameron Brooks since he can remember. Watching him date different girls all throughout high school was nothing if not pure torture...
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The end of the first week had been bleak if anything.
Whoever founded the words "the more the merrier" clearly had their head up their own ass. Despite there being a total of eight people who vehemently agreed to be on this vacation, there couldn't be anything less "merry" in the entire damn house since 6 a.m.
"I am going to die in here," grumbled Bryce, shivering under the comforter he dragged in the living room from their bed. He looked over his shoulder towards Allison, who sported a pair of satin pink shorts and a backless white tank top. "Al, can you turn the AC down?"
Allison frowned. "But it's so hot."
"Are you kidding?"
"It is," Ian agreed with her, and soon everybody began joining in. "You should really get yourself checked babe you may have a problem."
Bryce in turn huffed in response and sank further in his seat instead of forming a protest.
"You guys are so dramatic," Blake said in defense. "You wouldn't last a minute in a military camp."
Emery's brows furrowed at that. "Why would we be in a military camp?"
"Gee, I don't know patriotism?" Blake answered with a roll of his eyes.
"Seriously can't we like go dolphin watching or something?" Cate asked, hinting frustration in her voice. "I heard pods make stops a mile to the west."
Emery interjected with a wave of his hand. "Can't. They're fixing the boats."
Blake hummed as he sat up, curiosity taking over. "Actually, they are," he said, looking at Emery. "How'd you know about that?"
"Lucas told me," the redhead replied, his gaze hardening as soon as he saw Blake's smirking mouth open to retort what was probably another take on their ridiculous insinuation that Lucas is interested in him, which is the last thing Emery would love to hear right now. He pushed his finger on Blake's mouth, squinting both eyes. "Don't or it'll be the last thing you do."
Beside him, Cameron soundlessly poured cantaloupe juice into his ice-filled glass, the sound filling the silence that colonized the air. If Em was counting right, that was his third glass, though it didn't seem to bother anyone that he was basically emptying the entire pitcher.
There are plenty of things in this world that bothers Emery. One, is watching people fill up with juice without breakfast, which is why it's taking everything from him not to take a frozen pizza from the fridge, heat it, and shove it down Cameron's throat. Two, cocky drivers. He hates them solely for their existence (and if you don't, there's something seriously wrong with you). He can name more, but the one thing that irks him the most is morning hair.
And Cameron's morning hair is worst than a nest made by the lousiest bird on earth. It has been bothering Emery since he saw the blond come down from his room, and he would be lying if he said this was the first time he fought the urge to run his fingers through those tangled, messy locks.
