23. Cameron

Cameron

T here isn't a single set of eyes that doesn't track us as we walk through the quad, which is packed with students enjoying the afternoon sun. That isn't unusual in the sense that there are always eyes on Jagger, but this time they're on me as well, since my fingers are linked with his. And since people stop their games and conversations as we pass, it's especially obvious.

I don't know if he grabbed my hand because he made a conscious decision to confirm that the kiss rumor is true before anyone had the chance to ask, or if he just wanted to hold my hand. Either way, our trek through campus is the equivalent of walking the red carpet.

And I am not a fan.

I get it, of course. Not only is Jagger recognizable because of his star status on the football team, he's just too fucking gorgeous not to attract attention. But neither of those factors are behind the looks we're getting right now, which is taking away from the novelty of having my first boyfriend.

It was so refreshing when we walked through the store the other day, holding hands and flirting, and sneaking kisses. We were just any other couple since we weren't surrounded by students. On campus, we—Jagger especially—don't have that anonymity, so it's harder to focus on him instead of the fact that every head we pass swivels around to follow us. Probably wondering why he'd settle for me.

"I feel like a zoo animal," I mutter as we make our way toward the stadium for practice.

"Because people are admiring how cute we are together?" Jagger completely misses the discomfort in my tone.

"Because we're on display, being paraded around for entertainment."

"How are we being paraded around when we're just walking to practice?" He bumps our shoulders together without relaxing his grip on my hand.

"You know what I mean," I groan. "Everyone's watching like they're waiting for the train wreck to happen. Like we're the stars of some cheesy reality show."

"Should we give them a show? I can kiss you."

"I don't want you to kiss me for show. It's bad enough our first kiss happened cause we were calling Anna's bluff. I'm not gonna make a habit of kissing you to shut people up."

We walk a few dozen yards in silence before Jagger tugs us to a stop, forcing me to face him. "I don't regret that, you know."

"Regret what?"

"That calling her bluff led to kissing. I'm not sure we'd have done it otherwise." A slight breeze ruffles his dark hair, and I'm grateful my hand is locked with his so I can't reach out to settle it.

"You think we could've gone on indefinitely having the mind-blowing sex we do and not ended up kissing?"

"I think we were both scared of ruining our friendship, and living under the delusion that as long as we didn't kiss, we couldn't screw it up."

"Yeah, okay." I let out a heavy sigh as I realize he'd been holding back because of the same fear I had. "I guess maybe we needed that push. I'm still not gonna make a habit of kissing you for show."

"You'll make a habit of kissing me, though… Right? Otherwise, I'll feel like I'm getting cheated by the whole boyfriend thing."

Rather than answer, I lean forward and press my mouth to his, teasing the seam of his lips with my tongue until he opens for me and lets me have a small, sweet taste.

"Still feel cheated?" I ask.

"Nope, I feel pumped. This is gonna be a great practice." He pulls me along with the giddiness of a toddler chasing an ice cream truck, and even though I can still feel people watching us, it doesn't irk me as much as it did a few minutes ago.

It's hard to be moody when Jagger's so happy, especially when it's my lips that make him that way.

Unfortunately, things sour the moment we step inside the building.

"Jagger," Coach barks before the door can even shut behind us. "My office, now."

"Cam too?"

Even Coach can hear the plea in his tone, and when his eyes land on our joined hands his stern expression seems to soften. "Come on, then."

We follow him down the hall and step inside his office, taking the two seats in front of his desk as he closes the door. My eyes wander over decades of memorabilia as we wait for him to sit, including team photos, awards, game balls, and a few framed jerseys.

The history in this room is impressive, which makes me even more grateful to be here, seeing as I don't intend to pursue football after college.

Coach grabs a legal-sized envelope from his desk and tosses it towards Jagger as he takes a seat. "This came for you today. By courier."

Jagger and I exchange a confused look, which doesn't go unnoticed.

"That was my reaction as well," Coach says. "Not only have I never had a player get mail at my office, but I've never had a courier show up here, either. Do you have any idea what that might be?"

Jagger scratches his head. "No."

"Do you want some privacy to open it?" Coach asks.

"Uh, that's okay." Jagger picks up the envelope with more composure than I would've expected given his audience, and gently tears it open. Coach can't see what's in the photo he pulls out, but I can, along with the sticky note pinned to it. It makes my skin crawl. Jagger's too, if the panicked look he gives me is any indication.

"When would he have taken this?" Jagger tosses the picture on Coach's desk like its poison, although that doesn't stop the man from picking it up, his face turning a dark shade of red as he reviews the note.

"Be a shame if something happened to your friend. You know what to do." Coach reads as he peels off the note and studies the picture of me stepping outside our house on the way to my truck. "Who's threatening you? Is this a date at the bottom?" He fingers the bright yellow paper.

"Coordinates," Jagger says. "My dad's an outdoorsman. Or he used to be. I don't know what he is now."

"And what is it he wants you to do?" Coach asks.

"Give him fifty grand," Jagger scoffs, knuckles going white where he's gripping the arm of the chair he's sitting in as his reaction morphs from shock to anger. "That bastard."

"Is this why I have a message from your dad to call him back as soon as possible?" Coach asks me.

"Yes." I rub my forehead to stave off the ache growing behind my brows. "Jagger's dad approached us yesterday threatening to post a video of the two of us ki… Uh…" I shoot Jagger a panicked look since we never talked about what to say to Coach.

"We're dating," Jagger draws an imaginary line between the two of us. "Just, you know… For context."

"Yeah," I continue. "So, uh… His dad wants cash, or he'll post a video of us—"

"Not a sex tape. We don't have one of those." Jagger sounds nonchalant, but I can see his leg bouncing so I know it's a forced calm.

"I don't think he assumed that." I feel my face getting almost as red as Coach's, for an entirely different reason.

"Your dad did."

"Because you said intimate video," I hiss at him.

"Kissing is intimate." Jagger shrugs, but since his leg is moving even faster now, I know he's about at his breaking point.

"Anyhow." I turn back to Coach. "He wanted to out us, but we're not trying to stay in the closet, so we ignored it. This must be his next move."

Coach's face is completely blank, like there's zero going through his head. I don't know if it's the photo threat, the fact Jagger and I are dating, or mention of sex tapes that has him speechless, so I just keep going.

"We were thinking about getting a restraining order, but that was before he sent this. Maybe they can arrest him for making threats or something?"

Coach looks at the picture and the note again before speaking. "There's nothing here that proves who made the threat." He holds up a hand to stop the objections he must sense coming. "I'm not saying it wasn't Jagger's dad, just that we can't prove it. Not unless we can tie him to the courier, and even then, I'm not sure the police can do anything about it."

"That's bullshit," Jagger pops up from his chair and starts pacing back and forth. "We can't just wait around for my dad to come after Cam."

"Do you think he would, or is he just trying to scare you?" Coach asks Jagger.

"Hell if I know." Jagger throws his arms up. "Until yesterday I hadn't seen him in ten years. Also until yesterday, I didn't know he's not just a deadbeat but a criminal. I don't know the man anymore. I have no idea what he'll do." He stops his pacing and looks at me, green eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I can't risk anything happening to you, Camelot. I'll just give him what he wants."

Jagger never lets anyone but me see this vulnerable side of him, so if it's making an appearance in front of Coach, he's obviously terrified. For me. And while I'm a little uneasy about the prospect of being threatened, for Jagger's sake I'll pretend it doesn't bother me.

"He's not going to hurt me, Kitcat. And you're not going to pay him either, otherwise he'll never stop coming after you with these demands."

Jagger opens his mouth to protest, but nothing comes out, like his voice is frozen. Actually, his whole body looks frozen as he stands there gaping at me, so I jump up and wrap my arms around him, holding him to me as his breath comes in ragged spurts. I'm pretty sure he mumbles can't lose you over and over again against my chest, but it's so muffled I'm not positive that's what he's saying. I'm even less positive he realizes he saying anything at all.

I've seen Jagger wrestle with the emotions of being abandoned, but that usually manifests in feelings of inadequacy. Sometimes even worry or guilt that he's repeating his dad's mistakes. This is different. This is genuine fear, and I don't know how to fix it.

"It's okay," I whisper as I tighten my hold. "It's okay."

I'm not sure how long we stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms in the middle of Coach's office, before I realize Coach isn't there anymore. It can't have been too long, since the clock shows that practice just started, but the fact he slipped out without either of us noticing has me a little concerned. That couldn't have happened unless I was fully consumed with Jagger, and I wouldn't have been fully consumed with Jagger unless he was in a really bad state.

I rub my hand up and down his back, noting that his breathing seems to have leveled out. Hopefully that's a good sign.

Pulling away slightly, I tip his chin up to see his tear-stained face, wondering briefly how he can still be so stunning when he's clearly distressed. Then I press my lips to his. "Better?"

"No." He sniffs. "My dad wants to hurt you, and it's my fault."

"How is this your fault?"

"He wouldn't have any reason to think I have fifty grand if I wasn't signing NIL deals and hocking products all over social media."

Stroking his brow to take away the frown lines, I say, "Bullshit. He doesn't know how much those deals are worth."

"He could find out. It's probably public record."

"Kitcat, no offense, but that's way too much effort for your dad to put in to make a quick buck. He's the laziest fucker on the planet. You think a guy who sleeps with people to get a free meal would go searching through public documents to find out how much money you have?"

Though I'm only trying to placate Jagger, I realize how true those words are once they're out of my mouth. We're getting worked up about a guy who's probably grasping at straws, and while it got me good there for a bit, the more logic I apply to the situation the more I feel like I'm onto something.

"Where'd he come up with fifty grand then? It's not an unreasonable figure."

Granted, my boyfriend probably has several hundred thousand, but he saves it rather than flaunting it, so on the surface fifty grand is a big number.

"I wondered that too the first time he rattled it off. I'm guessing he either overheard someone else speculating about what NIL deals are worth, or he started high figuring you'd negotiate, and he'd land at something like fifteen or twenty."

"Still, he wouldn't be harassing us if I wasn't building up my profile online." Jagger looks so forlorn I can't help hugging him to me again.

"Yeah, he would, Kitcat." I massage his head, using his silky hair to calm my own nerves in the process. "He'd just be doing it a few years from now when you're in the NFL."

"Maybe." Jagger wraps his arms around my waist, nuzzling closer. "Either way, he hasn't given up. You're still in danger."

"I'm not sure I am. I think this is another bluff."

"What if it's not?" Jagger burrows his head closer to my neck.

"Do you really think he can hurt me?"

"The guy I remember, no. But he's not that guy anymore. I'm honestly not even sure that guy existed. I might've made him up or blocked out the bad things about him."

"Even if you did, I didn't. I remember him as being lazy and selfish, not violent. And frankly, he doesn't look like the kind of guy who could defend himself very well, so I doubt he wants to court violence. You saw how he reacted when I grabbed his shirt. I don't think he really wants to mess with me."

"What if he owes someone and he's more desperate than we think?"

"No offense, Kitcat, but your dad isn't really good with authority, so I can't really see him working for or even partnering with anyone else. He's too much of a loner or a free spirit. Whatever he's up to, it's his own plan."

"What do we do, then? Ignore that picture?"

"I—"

The office door swings open, and Coach comes back inside with a wary glance in our direction. "Everything okay?"

Jagger lifts his head off my chest and nods as I say, "Yeah."

"Good. I want you two to sit here and wait for campus police. They're going to take a statement and get a description so they can keep an eye out for your dad," he tells Jagger. "They can't do anything about the threat since we can't prove who made it, but they can ask non-students to leave if they're suspected of posing a threat."

"Okay. Sure." I guide Jagger back to his chair and take a seat myself.

"After that, I want you both to go home and get some rest," Coach says. "We've got a big game this weekend and I need your heads in it, so take today and come back ready to play tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." I nod, which he returns with just enough eye contact to assure me that he's got our backs. Then he heads out to practice and the campus police rep comes in to hear what we have to say.

By the time we finally get home, we're both exhausted, but Jagger's dragging like a zombie. So I do the only thing I can think of to take his mind off it. I kiss him on the forehead and send him up to bed with a promise to follow right behind him with some food. I'm in the middle of making sandwiches when Liam comes back from class and finds me in the kitchen.

"Did they call practice early?" He reaches around me to grab an apple from the bowl on the counter. "I don't see Cruz's Jeep."

It's hard not to laugh at that since it's actually Liam's Jeep that he "sold" to Cruz in exchange for covering his rent after his dad cut him off.

"No, Jagger and I got excused today."

Liam pauses with the apple halfway to his mouth. "Is this because of the whole gay chicken thing?"

"It wasn't gay chicken." I layer lunchmeat on two slices of bread.

"It wasn't… You're with Jagger then? Not in a bi-curious way but an actual together way? And the football team sent you home early because they don't like it?"

"Yes, I'm with Jagger." I spread mayo over the bread and put the tops on the sandwiches. "And I have no idea if the team likes it or not. I haven't seen them since we decided to be boyfriends."

"Back up." Liam shakes his head. "When I saw you before the game Saturday you two were just friends, but by the party you were boyfriends? Because of the gay chicken?"

"After the game we kissed, not because of gay chicken. Although, it started as a way to get him off the hook with this girl, Anna. We realized we liked it and decided to date."

"You went from zero to a hundred in the span of a few hours?" Liam gapes at me.

"There might've been some exploration between zero and a hundred."

"In the span of a few hours?"

"I never said when zero started." I cut the sandwiches in half and grab some Gatorades from the fridge.

"I knew it." Liam takes a bite of his apple and smirks proudly.

"Knew what?"

"That you're in love with him."

I take a bite of one of the sandwiches as I chew that idea over, washing it down with a sip of Gatorade when it hits me that he's right. "Yeah, I am. But when you accused me of that the first time, I really only loved him as a friend."

"What changed?"

I chew that over with another bite since I'm not sure of the answer and come up empty. It's not like Jagger wasn't already the most important person in my life before we added sex to the mix, and we did say we've probably been dating a lot longer than either of us realized. Maybe nothing changed, except that we got brave enough to be honest.

"I'm not sure anything did," I tell him. "Guess you called that one correctly."

"Will you tell that to Cruz when he gets back?"

"Why?"

"So I can collect my winnings."

I slam my fist into my chest to avoid choking on my last bite. "You bet on whether I was secretly in love with Jagger?"

"Not just you. But yeah, I said you two would be dating before Halloween. He picked Christmas, although he thought you'd just be fucking, not dating." Liam shrugs and chomps on his apple like it's totally normal to bet on when people will hook up.

"What'd you win?"

"You really want to know?" The mischievous smile he's wearing suggests that I don't, but since it's his bedroom antics that led to my current situation, I'm wondering if maybe I do.

"Hit me," I say.

"Have you ever heard of a Magic Pussy?"

I have to pound my chest for the second time in as many minutes. "What are… You're gay, what do you need a Magic Pussy for?"

"That's what Cruz said." Liam frowns in a way that makes him look both disappointed and bewildered. "But just because I'm not interested in a real one doesn't mean I wouldn't enjoy a toy that mimics it while Cruz is—"

"I get it." I swallow half the Gatorade bottle to soothe my dry throat.

"You asked." Liam shrugs.

"I've gotta go make sure Jagger eats." I grab the plate and head for the stairs.

"Hey, you never told me why you guys got excused from practice."

"That's a longer conversation. We'll tell you when everyone's here." Plus, the delay will give me time to talk to Jagger and find out what he wants them to know.