THE GUYS' girl

Chapter 6

Song Vibes: Despacito by Justin Bieber ft. Luis Fonsi and Daddy Yankee

True, also not a boy band. However, there are three boys singing in this song. (Plus, I reference this song in this chapter.)

Silently grateful that I hadn't had time to decorate since our move, I watched Cam's perusal of my room. If he dug through the box in my closet, he'd find plenty of incriminating photos of me: bad haircuts, braces, knobby knees, etc. My anxiety was high enough as it was, and so far he'd only had time to check out the books and DVD's on my bookshelf.

"Have you read all of these?" he asked, gesturing to the three shelves of novels.

"Yeah, I kinda have an obsession with reading," I confessed. "My parents got me a Kindle so that I wouldn't have to spend all my money on books, but old habits die hard. When I anticipate that I'm really going to enjoy a book, I go ahead and buy the paper copy."

Why was I telling him all of this? My eyes nearly bugged out of my head in exasperation with myself. Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice. Instead, he scanned the titles on my shelves.

I tried to talk myself down. Stop being so nervous! There is a gorgeous boy band member in your room and you are rambling on about your reading habits? How boring could you be?

I attempted to change the subject. "So, you didn't want to play video games with the other guys?"

He turned to me and shrugged. "Four controllers. I was the odd man out."

So there it was. He was just killing time with me until a controller opened up.

Next to the new television on the wall, he studied a cork board I'd made with Meg to document our horse riding accomplishments. Reaching out to touch my one and only blue ribbon, he leaned in to get a close look at the two of us atop our horses. Crap, I guess not all of my braces and bad hair pictures are in the closet.

A smile passed over his face. I expected him to ask me about riding but was caught off guard by what he said instead. "Truthfully, I'd rather hang out with you."

I think I just heard a record screech to a halt. What?

I pulled myself into a sitting position and held my knees to my chest. The way my heart was pounding, I hoped maybe the extra barrier between my heart and his ears would dull the sound.

I ran through a quick recap of what was happening so that my brain could catch up with my body's reactions. A beautiful, older, sweet (and out-of-my-league) guy had shown up for my birthday and was choosing to be in my room instead of downstairs with his friends. It was immature of me, but I pinched my arm just to be sure I wasn't dreaming.

"Me? Why?" I squeaked.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he glanced up at me through his long hair and answered. "You remind me of home."

My heart slammed into my chest. I had no idea what that meant. But I was sure I would have that reaction over and over again if it meant Cam was going to give me that look, his intense eyes half-hidden behind a curtain of hair.

I surprised myself when I actually formulated an appropriate question. "What's your home like?"

It wasn't like I expected him to sit on my bed with me, but I didn't have any other chairs in the room. When I moved my homework papers to the side, he sat on the edge of my bed.

Cam's face lit up when he talked about his family back in North Carolina. His dad was a Baptist minister and a high school baseball coach, his mom had been a teacher turned stay-at-home-mom, and he had three younger siblings. His sisters were ten and fifteen, and his brother was just six months older than me. His idyllic childhood only affirmed his All-American image.