Page 8 of Wanting Cameron

The whisky singes my throat, but I don’t let it show, wanting to prove that I can keep up.

Lucien moves so fast I don’t have time to react. He swipes my legs off the couch, and I’m suddenly sitting up, my feet on the floor, staring at him in shock.

He sits where my legs were, spreading his own out in front of him, and drapes his arm along the back of the couch, just behind my shoulders.

I can feel the heat of his arm against my neck and smell his deodorant.

We pass the bottle back and forth in silence for a while.

“How do you know Claire?” I ask finally.

“She’s friends with my sister,” he says.

I stare at him. “You have a sister?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why is that surprising?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I just— I didn’t think you had a sister.”

“What did you think I had?”

“I don’t know. Nothing. No one.”

He laughs again. “You think I’m some kind of orphan?”

“No,” I say. “I just— Guys who have sisters are usually…nicer.”

“Nicer?”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m not nice?”

“No,” I say. “You’re a dick.”

He takes the bottle from me and drinks. “Do you want me to be nice to you, Cam?”

My face flares with heat. “I…I don’t know. I don’t want anything from you.”

“Really?” He grins, his white teeth flashing in the low light.

I look down at the floor, and he continues, “To be honest, Cam, you act like you’re better than everyone. Like you’re too good for this place.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” I jab. “You’re the most arrogant person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m confident.”

“You’re a dick,” I say again. “You have a personality disorder or something. Antisocial tendencies.”

He laughs, his head tipping back. “Antisocial? I have more friends than you do.”

“That may be true,” I say, “but you have a misanthropic streak.”

“A misanthropic streak,” he repeats, grinning. “Where’d you learn that word?”

“Fuck off.”

He offers me the bottle. It’s almost empty now, but I take it anyway.