Page 56 of Almost Ours

“My girlfriend.” Oscar clarifies before he turns his head sharply. “The fuck are you on about, Cam?”

“She was all caged off, wasn’t she?” Cam says, waving his hand like he’s painting the air. “A prickly little cactus.”

Oscar stares at him, unimpressed. “What?”

“You know,” Cam continues, shrugging. “When you first met her. She was all guarded and stiff and serious.”

Oscar’s jaw tenses for a second. “She wasn’t a cactus, Cam.”

Cam grins. “She was until you cracked her open.”

“Was that a euphemism about my sex life? Again?”

“No!” Cam protests—then immediately contradicts himself. “But you did crack her open, didn’t you. In all ways. I specifically remember the boys getting a nice show on my kitchen counter where I make my ham sandwiches.” He points straight at me. “Three fingers deep, he was. Completely unashamed about it as well.”

Oscar makes a noise that sounds like someone punched the air out of him. “CAMERON. FOR FUCK SAKE.”

Cam looks proud of himself. “What? You did.”

“We live together,” Oscar hisses. “Why would you bring that up here? Now? In front of people?”

Cam’s eyes widen in fake innocence. “He’s in the group now. He deserves to know the lore.”

“I didn’t need to know that, actually.”

“I’m sorry.” Oscar’s jaw is clenched tightly. “He has no filter. Literally none. He’s like a yappy Jack Russell. No matter how hard I train him, I can’t get him to shut up.”

“It’s not my fault you’ve forced me into seeing things I can’t unsee! The sounds? The shirt? The way she grabbed—”

“CAM.” Oscar slams his pint down, not enough to spill it, but enough to make the table shake. “If one more syllable comes out of your mouth, I’m benching you next match.”

Cam rolls his eyes. “You’re a liar. You wouldn’t score a single goal without me.”

Oscar gives him a level, borderline murderous look. “Try me.”

Cam slowly lifts his pint to his lips and takes a silent sip.

I clear my throat, trying to steer the chat to safer territory. “You been with Emma long?”

Oscar’s whole posture changes; he relaxes, softens, immediately becomes wistful. “Just over a year.”

Cam nods enthusiastically. “Best year of his life. He won’t say it because he’s emotionally constipated, but he’s obsessed.”

Oscar rolls his eyes. “Ignore him.”

“You are. Everyone knows it. You’ve been gone on her since the day she cannonballed into the café and spilled coffee everywhere.”

Oscar glares again. “Cam.”

“It’s not an insult,” Cam insists. “She’s unreal. Nicest girl in the world. Sweetest. And she somehow likes you, which is inspiring, truth be told. Gives hope for the rest of us.”

Oscar huffs, but the corner of his mouth lifts.

I raise my pint. “Sounds nice, mate. Lucky.”

Oscar nods once. “It is. The best, actually.”

Cam leans back, satisfied. “Right. Who’s buying the next round?”