38. Cameron

Chapter 38

Cameron

Duck

*cucumber emoji*

Cameron

Hungry?

For a salad?

Are you okay?

Duck

Noooooooooooooooooo silly! Im with the grls! Did u forget alredy?

I told you last weekend when we were in teh iggglooooo

the WAGgiees *dog emoji*

Where is my sober salad king!!!!!!!

Cameron

How many cucumbers deep are you?

Duck

I only have taste for one particular cucumber and hes not hre :(((((

And a taste 4 martinis *martini emoji*

You caut me it’s 5 martinis!!!!!

It’s past midnight, and I can’t sleep without her. Tonight, her friends took her out for a night on the town, and she deserves it. She’s been so busy wrapping up her final preparations for her retreat.

I sit up in bed and call her, just to make sure she’s safe. She answers on the first ring.

“Caaaaaaameron,” she slurs. “What a strong name that is, you know that?”

“I suppose it is.”

“It’s my favorite name. Cameron Hastings. Daphne Quinn Hastings.” My heart lurches. I like hearing our names together. “Gosh, it has such a good mouth feel, but not as good as how your mouth feels.” She bursts out laughing, a little hiccup escaping her lips. Daphne is absolutely plastered.

“Sounds like you’re having fun, Daphne Quinn Hastings.”

“So much,” she drawls. “Soooo much. I love being with you, you know? And your forearms—nicest in the world. Has anyone told you that?”

“Not recently, no.” I chuckle. “But I’m glad you think so.”

“Think I do. I do-do-wop-a-doo you. I like you, Cam-a-doodle-dooooo,” she croons, breaking into a ridiculous beatbox that syncs with the bass thumping in the background.

“I like you too.”

“So much. Even when you’re an absolute grouch. But you’re my grouch, my little—I should say big, very big”—she hiccups—“Scrooge man who always gives me little presents and the best hugs. Ugh, Cameron, you give the best hugs, and you make me come, and your nose has that little bend in it that I just think is so sexy, Cameron. You are so sexy!”

She’s never been drunk around me, but it’s absolutely adorable.

“So are you, Daphne. Are you inside?” I ask.

“There’s just something about you, you know? Like, your laugh. It’s like if a puppy could giggle. And your eyes! They’re like little pools of melted chocolate I want to slather all over my tongue. Have I ever told you that?”

“Once or twice.” I reposition my head on my pillow, picturing her slathering chocolate all over her body. Now that is a sweet thing I wouldn’t mind devouring.

“And you know what else? I always feel like I’m in this bubble of safety with you. Like if a pack of wild animals showed up, you’d take them down.” She howls. “And even though your knitting skills are…questionable, it’s adorable that you’re giving it a shot. Oh, and it kind of turns me on when you get all teary at movies. Oops, did I just say that out loud?”

“I’m starting to get the picture,” I say, trying to keep my laughter in check.

“And don’t even get me started on how you look in a tux. Seriously. James Bond, who? Cameron Bond is more like it. You’re just…you’re just so awesome. Do you think I could knit an entire suit for Lust Island ? I’m going to ask Georgia.”

“Maybe wait to text her until the morning?” I suggest.

“Right, right, right. Always with the good ideas!”

Daphne had her first meeting with Georgia and the Lust Island team two weeks ago, and since then she’s been on a roll with ideas for wardrobe. She’s already started knitting to prepare for the premiere, which is the same week as the championship matches in May.

There’s a commotion on the other end of the line. Her voice fades in and out. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just telling Bea here how amazing you are!” Her voice darts off the line. “No, seriously, you won’t believe my man’s hair, it’s so soft. I could just run my fingers through it forever.”

Oh boy, she’s really gone. But I love her calling me her man. “Did you just—”

“Also, he has the most gorgeous you-know-what…”

“Daphne,” I say more sternly.

Bea whoops and cheers, then grabs the phone. “Cameron, you better get your big cock-a-doodle-do over here before I steal your girlfriend.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Daphne chants.

“We should get drinks into you more often,” I tease.

“You think so? I did break my heel, so maybe not this many drinks.” She giggles.

“I’m coming to get you,” I say, already tugging on my leather jacket and grabbing my keys.

“Yay! I can get you onto the dance floor. The girls taught me a move that I promise I didn’t whip out on anyone,” she purrs, mischief lacing her words.

Jealousy flares. “What move?”

“It involves a lot of shaking. I promise you’ll love it.”

“You’ll love it!” Bea chimes in.

“I’m on my way,” I say.

“Bring your forearms!” she commands, and I can practically hear the wink in her voice.

“Text me your location.”

I drive through the empty London streets. When I arrive, the club-thumping bass reverberates through my car. Neon lights cast a glow on the bustling street, with a line of eager partygoers snaking around the building. I slip the doorman a couple of bills and push through the crowd, my mind blurred by flashing lights and writhing bodies.

Then I see Daphne. On the dance floor, her lavender hair shimmers like a halo under the lights. Every curve of her body is accentuated by her tiny knitted dress, a vision that makes my fists curl with raw desire. When she spots me, her face lights up, and she runs over, almost tripping on her broken heel. Her eyes sparkle with excitement as she reaches me, breathing in happy bursts.

“Cameron! You came.” She hugs me, placing a sloppy kiss on my cheek. She smells like a vodka distillery. “Come dance with me!” she insists, pulling me onto the crowded dance floor.

“I don’t know…” I have practice in a few hours. But then she looks up at me with half-lidded eyes, and I’m a goner. She spins around, twirling and stumbling. She hooks her arms around my neck and leans in close, and before I can process it, her teeth clasp my earring, tugging and pulling.

My dick responds immediately, aching for me to take her home. Fucking hell.

“What was that?” I yell over the music.

“You got to lick my anklet; it’s only fair.” She opens her mouth and blinks her eyes in what I can only assume was an attempt at a wink.

“What’d you think?”

“Loved it!” Daphne purrs, sliding her hand up my inner thigh until her fingers brush against me through my sweats. “Guess you loved it too.”

I pull her closer, find the curve of her ass, and squeeze hard. She gasps. Her eyes smolder with that familiar passion, making my heart race. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you love it,” she says, sticking her tongue out.

I wrap my lips around that devious little tongue and give it a loud suck. “Yeah, I guess I do.” She giggles in my arms, body swaying to the music. “Remember when you said you loved my forearms?” I say into her ear.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums.

“Well, I love your everything,” I say. Now is not the time to tell her what I’ve been slowly coming to terms with—that I love her. But I do.

I’m certain of it.

I love Daphne Quinn.

Her eyes are soft with affection. “Even when I’m a drunken mess?”

“Especially when you’re a drunken mess,” I reply, kissing her forehead. “You’re my drunken mess.”

“Let’s stay like this forever.”

“Forever sounds perfect.” I hold her close as we sway to the music, lost in our own little world.