Badiesss🌺

ᦵ .݂ ֯ 𓇮 𝖙𝓱𝓮 cannon did not want children. that’s what he’s told every journalist, every super supporter in his comment section, and mama cade; he did not see himself producing offspring with his beautiful fianceé. ysabelle cade was okay with that, for she too did not want any mini version. children are fragile and loud and expensive and cameron cade’s pretty selfish. but there was an odd, impossible to ignore, twinge at the centre of his gut that had invaded the moment he laid his eyes on you . . . again, cuddled beside the mini creed-taylor.

it’d been only four nights since the celebration . . . and you dreaded the idea of facing life around cameron after that rendezvous. you were gonna say it. that word, and he knew. he’s worked it all over in his head and he was certain. certain that he wasn’t thinking himself loony. and because you didn’t do well around him or ysa’s friend group, you wanted nothing more than for the happenings of that night to be erased. he’s getting married soon, maybe it was time you you went back to pining over him. and he should do the same — minus the pining part, obviously.

but he was . . . starting to actually like you. he couldn’t say it for sure, but he definitely didn’t hate you anymore. he didn’t want to. he didn’t think he would label this new development as feelings, which was a word that held way too much emotional weight, but . . . he felt different. there hadn’t even been a moment where he wanted to dump you off somewhere. the desire to be cruel to you was pretty much gone. only took two sessions and to be apart for four nights!

seemed too easy.

sure, he could still mash you if he tried, but he didn’t want to try anymore. instead, he wants to share a private meal and learn you. everything after high-school. the bits he consciously chose to miss. like, why’d you turn away from finance and go into education? or, did you keep up with his professional stats . . . even for a short while? or, with whom from the past decade would you consider ‘serious’?

and cameron doesn’t even realise he’s staring blankly into space until he’s elbowed in the soft meat of his waist and told that he looks stupid staring into space. adonis reminds his good friend, and former opponent, to remove those sneakers and line ‘em up on the rack. his woman didn’t like tracks around their place and cameron tended to treat every living space like his own. and though cameron knew bianca’s rule, he enjoyed working her nerve.

thinking of b : “mm, was just about to text you two. again.” she’s descending the mahogany stairs, looking between the grown men holding three brown-paper bags each. tonight’s meal. a day-old tradition bianca wanted to incorporate into their lives. she says she misses the inner-circle’s closeness. but in actuality, she was apart of a facebook group that made her feel guilty for not hosting frequent, intimate gatherings to ‘strengthen familial connections’.

with a finger, bianca motions toward the pearly white kitchen, sprinkling droplets. when she touches the bottom, instead of following the guys, she goes for the front door, still wagging water from her hands. she peers through that frosty, opaque opening, wondering if maybe they’d returned with a third and just left her outside? but no. there was no third. bianca twists the lock down and turns on both heels, curls bouncing in her effortless, shaggy high pony.

“cam, where’s ysa? i know you saw my message.” yeah, he did see it. but ysa was . . . she wasn’t feeling it. she was in a mood. and cameron wasn’t in the mood for her mood; no one liked ysa when she got into her little moods. “really? not feelin’ dinner? - i swear we were on the phone like an hour ago, she seemed fine.” well, anything can happen in an hour. everyone knew that. a five minute argument had the power to ruin someone’s entire week.

and while bianca’s unloading a paper bag, something in her spirit does not believe that bleak, weirdly vague excuse. his hesitation was unappreciated and quite concerning, since when he didn’t have donnie’s shoulder to whine on, he had hers. it was almost offensive he wasn’t up for a little blabbering. but she guessed it be best to leave that where it was for now. because no one liked cam when he got into his little moods —

plus, she’d find out when ysa called later tonight. that’s what usually happened anyways. after any and every disagreement, no matter how big or small, cameron left for some fight club forty minutes out to ‘cool off’, and ysa rang bianca . . . slurring over words, finger tangled around the stem of a tall wine glass overflowing with bitter red wine.

“we got’chu next time.” which sounded honest enough. “promise, bia. ‘nd you know i keep my promises.” pssh. bianca’s crunching two paper bags into a gigantic ball, her lips crooked upward, and an expression of yeah fucking right plastered on her face. if he lied to her again, he was liable to get struck by lightning.

“grab those two for me, would’ya?” and he watches bianca stab a wooden spoon over at the center most bit of her and adonis’ living area: lamps, vanilla candles, and ceiling lights set on warm-yellow. the brown curtains, matching the pillows and throw blankets in shade, are swiped back to let the natural deep blue evening sky spill in. “mara’s helping us cook. she would not leave me alone ‘bout it,” with a soft smile.

cameron nods, drumming both hands above the countertop before pushing off and heading around. he tried to hide his uneasiness. you were so cute looking; skipping with your niece in a dress the babiest of pinks, a cone-shaped headdress balancing atop your hair, wand in one hand and wii-stick in the other —

“. . . heey -?” but his voice dies flat when he can feel his cheeks go hot. he decides he’d rather not interrupt, because for the next minute or so, you were the imaginary mother of his imaginary kid.

the cannon did not want children. but if there had been any blessings left for him in this world, he would not mind it. this. just one munchkin. one chunky munchkin that was half yours. he would commit and do the whole parenting thing with you. only if the universe were to ever allow that ending . . . but he would not dare get his hopes high. this situation was a nasty one, he could admit.

it takes thirty seconds for the dance round to come to a bittersweet end. you’re out of breath, posed like you’ve just wrapped up a sold, worldwide pop tour. and amara, she’s in a similar state — the glitter within her purple tutu catching the rainbow lights as she wobbles precariously on her tiptoes. she manages all of two wonky steps before pitching sideways into your thigh, clutching onto you for dear life just before she can face-plant into the carpet.

cameron licks back a chuckle — and the instant amara looks his way, he quickly schools his features, wiping the grin from his face before she can mistake it for mockery. he raised one hand to his mouth, a sign he’s learned as a generic question: you okay, mara?

she rubs her tiny chin, humming and just now remembering that round four required a third dancer. little fingers fluttering and shaping each word in the air: i ‘may’ feel better if you play with me and auntie. they finish at her waist, where she gives an eager wiggle, wearing the sweetest, most hopeful smile ever.

cameron turns to you first and you’re stuck looking at cutie amara, mindlessly twirling a soft curl about one finger, unwilling to meet his face. he wasn't sure whether he was deserving of that. whatever’s happening right now. but he lifts both big hands anyway and goes: finish dinner. okay? bia . . . [searching for the appropriate sign]. waits for you. the girl offers her uncle a good job thumb. then, with one small nod in her auntie’s direction: “and you,” he said.

amara marched up the puffy couch cushions and swiveled over like a superhero. a short-cut, she called it. you didn’t have the luxury of doing such superhero move, so you take the long-way, silly fabric squiggling behind — “i want a minute.”

that’s when you halt and look over your shoulder, puffing out a deep, annoyed sigh. as much as he didn’t want to start anything or make a fuss in your brother’s home, there was no sleeping tonight if he didn’t get what he had on his heart off. “jus’ one. swear.” sounded too familiar and you can recall how that resulted: the l word nearly slipping free.

he promised not to touch you. he promised to stand at arm’s length. and while you’re lapping it over in your mind for the moment, he anxiously awaited your response. but before an answer can be exchanged, adonis claps him on the shoulder. the skin-to-skin strike was loud and must’ve been painful, but cameron didn’t have any sort of reaction. adonis had something cool to show off. something about the world cup. “real quick, real quick,” pulling at cameron’s weight.

upon entering the kitchen, you’re immediately assigned to vegetable dicing and chicken seasoning. “what was that?” bianca wondered, handing over an extra container of oregano and black pepper. “what was what?” but she can see right through your act of cluelessness . . . not enough to put two-and-two together though. she knew that you and cameron grew up constantly bumping heads, so whatever that was could’ve been about anything. literally. anything. tipping each other over the ledge never took a lot.

“just not in front of mara.” who was spooning a huge bowl of jiffy cornbread mix, crown lopsided and cheeks somehow streaked with flour. “i beggg,” while kindly cuffing your arm. of course. of course. never would your niece see you like that. arguing with a man over something so . . . yeah.

as you’re chopping through two fat carrots, you can only think about cameron. the last four nights were bizarre, but it also felt weirdly natural — not normal, but undemanding. missing him felt like . . . it felt right. it felt like you’d returned to planet earth after spending some time in space.

you already liked him, but the want for friendship didn’t scare you anymore. for the first time ever. and obviously, for that to happen, you and cameron would have to stop fucking and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that to end just yet. whatever this was, it was a shitty place. but it wasn’t exactly a horrible place; better than arguing and kicking at the other. just one filled with a lot of frustration and confusion and unfaithfulness . . .

and in order for a casual-friendship to work, you [a]. had to stand up for yourself. this ‘i fucking despise you’ dynamic was so tired. and [b]. you seriously couldn’t have sex with him again . . .

— the real test of character was here. right now. dinner was over and the dishes were stacked away. amara got four more just dance! rounds out of her family and was down for the night. adonis snuggled in the same bed, snoring amongst fairy-lights and glowy stars. and his wife was in a private bathroom, singing to tamar braxton, applying the rest of a charcoal face mask and waiting for ysa to call.

as for cameron . . . he was missing you in that fairytale costume. he’s still at the dining table taking irregular swigs from a longneck bottle of warm beer and watching you gather up your belongings.

he has his bottom lip pulled between his thumb and forefinger in contemplation. he couldn’t remember the last time he’s ever been this anxious — absolutely terrified — to speak to a woman. or the last time panic rattled his entirety at the mere thought of potentially never being able to have a pussy squeezing his cock again. this was torture; to be in your presence and not have you as he wanted you.

“what time you plan on leaving out?” he dropped his fingers from his lips and redirected his weirdly intense gaze elsewhere. he’s assuming that you must’ve found it strange that he’s sat back longer than he also expected. now looking at you: “after . . .” cameron scoots the chair a bit, “. . . i get that conversation.”

guess this was the perfect window.

you’re seeing him begin to stand from the dining table and in what seemed like the longest second of your life, you wanted to unclasp his belt and jump into his arms. it was impossible not to. it was impossible not to want him. to ache for him and hope for him, as you’ve always had . . . “i was going to say it.”

he guessed it was nice to have a confirmation. “hasn’t left my mind.” after countless feeble attempts, it was no use. it was and had to be your body under his. from here on and forever. you’ve made his home life impossible. he can not kiss his fiancée as he used to, because her lips are not your own. he can not hug his fiancée, because her body is not your own. just existing here now, mere feet from you, has his resolute hanging by a thread.

“but, y’know. that’s what happens during sex - we say things we don’t mean,” you blurted. a cheap cop-out. one he couldn’t accept. or embrace. did you seriously think he’d take that?

“it’s been a long, hard coupl’a nights . . . and i’ve . . . i’ve underestimated you.” or rather, he believed he couldn’t fall for the girl he used to pinch and bite following rough, adult sex in a muggy, male locker-room. but that’s what he did.

he wasn’t too worried though. about this here. he knew he could get your legs open again as soon as this madness was all over.

“i’ve tried reaching you- calls. texts. voicemails. that phone broke?” cameron gestures to the device indenting one front pocket. no, it was not broken. nor cracked a smidge. its condition was immaculate actually. you hold a hand over your concealed phone and shake your head, muttering no. “i silenced everything . . . wasn’t ready ‘s’all.” and scared you might’ve spooked him. “but, uhm- i have’to apologise.” not just to him, but to ysa. and adonis. and bianca. and mama cade. and your momma! “i know better.”

woahwoahwoah. cameron catches your arm, careful of the slipping purse. “‘m not mad. ‘ight? i’m not. but- hey. hey- i do think we can try somethin’.” he wanted you more than anything. more than everything. “- i wan’a try something with you.” try? with pupils blown and bigger than the moon. “something that’s more serious- you’d like that, yeah?”

serious like what? secret girlfriend-boyfriend, serious?

“no.” like there could be a serious label after tonight.

“no?” he’s plucked. “you’ve said no more than three words t’me all night.” and for very good reason. “i don’t want that again.” . . . “i showed up ‘cause i miss you.” but also ‘cause he knew ysa wouldn’t be on his arm to bullshit and yank him away. “i cannot think of anyone else.” — cameron releases your arm without even meaning to and paces sloppy circles about the space between the dining area and the living area. a tell-tale sign that he was spiralling and getting ready to crash. “i can’t.”

you swallow thickly, gripping both hips for stability and comfort. seeing the way he moved was making your mind tilt and legs jelly. the nervous energy that warped and buzzed around cameron was spreading and latching onto you. “yeah- i’m not doing this.” fresh air. get outside. fressh airr. out.sidde.

“if not now, then when? huh?” cameron hurried forth, adamant on keeping you from leaving out of that front door.

gulp. “maybe when you feel like havin’ sex with me again,” right as you’re about to snatch back the handle: “oh don’t- don’t you dare do that.” because there was something awful in your voice. and he wasn’t going for it. shit wasn’t fair. “i did not lure you into some - fucked, degrading ass shit -“

“you didn’t have to!” oh crap. that was much louder than what you were going for. but not as loud as the grumbling in your tummy and the thrashing of your upset heart. “you- my gosh- cameron,” said with an enormous sense of wrongness, “you know how i feel- have felt about you for years. years.”

okay, so, yeah. maybe he used that to get over the bridge that night in the locker-room. maybe your feelings made it easier. cameron had always known how to press. and you'd always had a weakness for persistence. cameron’s bedroom-life wasn’t the greatest then and still isn’t now. and yours is and has never existed to begin with. no offense.

making a choked noise, “you knew.”

“. . . i did.” a confession; there was real history here. jacked up, cracked up history. but it was there. “and you knew too.” you couldn't claim surprise. couldn't claim innocence. or victim. the only victim in this case was ysa. he’d gotten you halfway, holding the door open, and the other half had been your own two feet.

“but did you not hear what i just said? . . .” cameron hunched down until he was eye level and cradled the sides of your neck. then gently cupped both of your cute cheeks. “i. want. you.”

but it . . . it doesn’t feel good. this doesn’t feel like love. not from him. not the kind you'd spent all those lonely nights imagining. you've wanted him to choose you for so long, yet now that he was, all you could feel was the mess of how he'd gotten here. there were no butterflies and there were no sparkles and there were no confetti cannons. "i want you to want me - the right way."

the right way? he wasn’t getting it. he wasn’t understanding your opposition. you’ve wanted him for years. fucking years, like you said. since before you could even comprehend what romantic feelings were. all you’ve ever been able to think about was cameron cade. all you’ve ever known to breathe for was cameron cade. and to be chased by him. and to call him yours. and now that he was purposing the idea, you were . . . declining. ???

did he have to leave ysa?

“jus’ . . .” he righted himself and wiped his face with a deep, full-body groan. “jus’ sit down.”

but sitting down was not happening. you’re looking at him with disgust and deep sorrow and neither hear the soft-as-a-mouse footfalls at the staircase — “this . . . is not affection,” barely able to speak over the nausea. “this shit . . . is- it’s messy.” which might’ve been the nicest word to use here. “and you do not want the’real me.”

maybe he believed it was love. maybe he even meant every word. but compared to everything you'd carried for him your entire life, it felt flimsy. what you had, it was forged by time and vexation and disappointment and patience. “i . . . want someone who’ll see me as someone.” . . . it had been easy to give him your body because your heart had belonged to him. but giving him the rest of your life? that was different. that required believing he loved you for reasons that existed before the night in the locker-room. and you didn't.

cameron’s brows fold into themselves and his arms uncross. defeated. “would you please jus’ sit down?”

that . . . was not happening. it couldn’t. another minute spent talking with cameron was another minute you could’ve been home, in the bed, holding a bowl of chopped fruit and the television streaming season four of the big bang theory. “goodnight, cameron.”

and you left without saying anything else.

he should’ve told you that the sex wasn’t to be taken to heart. just something fun, he figured. but having known you his whole life, saying that not only would’ve hurt you —

but it would’ve kept you away . . .

it was a friday night and here was renée, snuggled up on her friend jorja’s couch, the two watching ‘i can do bad all by myself’, oh….and jorja’s boyfriend was there too. renée loved spending her friday nights with her friend and occasionally her friends boyfriend…she didn’t really mind third wheeling..but they did. 

“renée” jorja spoke..peeling renée’s attention from the screen. 

“mhm” she answered mouth full of popcorn. 

“we’ve been thinking” jorja spoke, looking at her boyfriend before she continued “we haven’t really gotten the chance to spend any alone time together” she said playing with her hands nervously. 

renée was confused, they were always alone together, they practically lived together. 

“um ok” she said placing the popcorn bowl that rested on her lap, on the coffee table. 

“i just-WE think you should put yourself out there and start dating again” jorja said waving her finger in between her a her boyfriend. 

“date!?” renée yelled out, choking on her popcorn. 

“yes date! you’ve been single for almost two years now and you’re here almost every weekend watching movies and eating up all the food!”  jorja’s boyfriend exclaimed sitting up on the couch. renée didn’t know why he was even speaking, she was barely cool with him. 

“look” jorja said scooting closer to the girl who was beating on her chest, trying to cough up the popcorn kernel in her throat. 

“this is my friend tyriq and he’s single..the boy is always complaining about being lonely..you too would be perfect for each other” she said shoving her phone in renée’s face with a cheesy smile. 

“do you think i’m lonely or something!?” she questioned, finally able to breathe properly. 

“yes! yes we do!” jorja’s boyfriend said jumping up from the couch, earning a slap from his girlfriend. 

“just look,he’s actually really good looking.. and sweet!” she added at the end, knowing her friend cared more about personality than looks. 

renée took a good look at the man on the phone, he was very attractive. he had a beautiful smile, pretty eyes, and he looked pretty strong. he had various pictures of him with a woman that appeared to be his mother, renée loved a mama’s boy. 

“yeah he’s cute and all but you know i’m not interested in dating right now” renée said pushing the phone back towards its owner. the girl felt like she had too much stuff going on in her personal life to be worried about dating, she had recently opened up her own spot..taking her makeup business from the spare room in her apartment to a suite. 

jorja leaned back on the couch and let out a groan. 

“you know i love you renée” she said grabbing her friend’s hand “and i love spending time with you..but you have to put yourself out there..i know you’re lonely” she said squeezing the hand that she held. 

renée let out a sigh, her friend was right. when her long day’s of work were over..she sometimes dreaded going home to her empty apartment, sometimes even opting to stay in her suite after hours just to avoid the silence. 

“ok fine” she said rolling her eyes feeling defeated, one date couldn’t hurt, it’s not like it would lead to something serious. 

“thank God” jorja’s boyfriend exclaimed, earning another slap from the giggling girl.

a week later, renée was sitting outside of some thai restaurant on FaceTime with jorja, the girl on the screen trying to convince her to go inside. 

“but what if he’s weird jorja..you know i get the ick” she said with a pout, playing with the curly piece of hair from her boohoo braids. 

“but he’s not babe i promise” jorja said with a laugh “i just think your trying to find any excuse not to go inside” 

renée hated how well her friend knew her because she was definitely trying to find any way out of going on this not so blind date. she had called jorja a couple days earlier, coughing into the phone trying to convince her friend that she was sick..of course jorja new better. 

“you need to go inside, you’re already five minutes late, don’t want to make a bad impression” her friend said before hanging up the phone. 

renée walked into the brightly light restaurant with her head held high, even though her insides were bubbling with anxiety. she looked around for the man she was supposed to be meeting, her eyes catching him, sitting at a table alone looking down at his phone. 

“hi..you’re tyriq right?” she asked as she approached the man. he looked up from his phone, excitement in his eyes once they landed on the girl in front of him. she was way prettier in person. 

he stood up from his seat to greet renée, his tall stature taking her by surprise. 

“you must be renée” he said pulling her into a hug, his strong arms wrapping around her frame easily. the girls knees almost gave out at the contact, it had been a minute since she had been hugged by a strong man that smelt heavenly. 

“yeah that’s me” she said pulling away from the embrace, face burning. she stepped back and attempted to take a seat before tyriq interrupted her. 

“here let me get that for you” he said stepping behind her to pull her chair out. once she was seated, he pushed the chair closer to the table with ease, making her eyes widen. 

once he was seated renée took a good look at the man, and my goodness..his instagram did him no justice. he almost looked unreal, like he belonged in a box on a shelf. 

“here..for you” he said handing the girl a bouquet of pink roses. renées heart melted at the gesture, it was simple but it showed intent. 

“thank you..these are so beautiful” she said smiling sweetly, smelling the flowers. 

“wow” he mumbled out staring at the girl across from him in awe. she was insanely gorgeous, almost too gorgeous.

“what?” she questioned, growing nervous under his gaze. 

“nothing you’re just much more beautiful in person” he said with stars in his eyes. his words made renée’s grin deepen, face burning red. 

“so are you” she said stupidly “not beautiful” she said raising her hands “not that you aren’t beautiful” she said waving her hands frantically. tyriq laughed deeply, the dimples on his cheeks showing. 

“you’re handsome..that’s what i’m trying to say” she said taking a deep breath, finally finding the right words. the man across from her had her mind all scrambled. 

“thank you..i appreciate it” he said still laughing, bringing his hands up to his chest. 

the pair just gazed at each other in silence, not awkward silence, they were taking each other in. 

tyriq loved how smooth her brown complexion was, how her gold jewelry contrasted against it, her lips were plump and looked incredibly soft. her eyes were round and a deep brown, the type of eyes that could convince a man to do anything. 

both of them broke eye contact once their waiter approached the table ready to take their orders. 

“wow i haven’t even looked at the menu” renée said picking up the mini booklet, scratching her head nervously. 

tyriq laughed at her actions “do you take suggestions?” he asked the girl across from him. 

“i’ll make an exception” she said shrugging her shoulders flirtatiously. 

he leaned towards her, his fresh cologne hitting her nose. he looked over her menu before his finger stopped, hovering over a food item on the menu. 

“pad see ew” she said, reading from where his finger was. “sounds good” 

the two placed their orders with the waitress, ordering the same thing. they made small talk while they waited on their food, talking about their jobs, music taste and zodiac signs, she learnt that tyriq was a cancer that had a recent obsession with charli xcx. 

“i can’t believe they don’t have forks here” tyriq said frustrated, trying to pick his noodles up with the chopsticks to no avail. 

“here let me help” renée laughed, setting her own chopsticks down to help the struggling man. 

she placed her hands over his, correcting his grip on the wooden sticks. he watched the girl intensely, eyes almost bulging out his head. 

“thanks” he said in a whisper, too star struck to speak any louder. 

“wait so..how do you and jorja know each other?” renée asked, continuing to eat her food. 

“oh we went to school together, you?” tyriq asked, finally able to eat his food thanks to renée. 

“she was one of my clients a while back, you know..i’m suprised we haven’t met before” renée said. 

“jorja has talked about you a couple times..but not as much as she has recently..she went on and on about her ‘lonely’ friend that i would probably get along with” he said laughing. 

“now way! she said the same thing about you” renée said giggling, her cheeks stung from the amount of laughing and cheesing she’s done tonight. 

“i think she might have swindled us” tyriq said. “we should take a picture to send to her” he said before pulling his phone from his lap, renée reaching in her purse to grab her own. 

“say cheese” the man said holding his phone up like a proud soccer mom making renée giggle. he pulled his phone towards him looking at the picture. 

“aww you’re so pretty” he said admiring the picture, making the girls heart flutter. 

“ok you’re turn” she said holding up her phone to snap a photo of the man. him lowering his head so he could fully be in frame. 

“perfecttt” she said scrunching her nose looking at the picture. he was too cute. 

renée sent the picture of tyriq to jorja, jorja replying, ‘awwww, i wanna be the maid of honor’, making renée laugh.

tyriq and renée continued chatting over their food, the conversation flowing. she was pleasantly surprised, suprised that she was enjoying her time with the man, almost not wanting the date to end. they talked about almost every thing under the sun, their hopes, dreams and even their nightmares. tyriq paid for their meals once the check came. 

the pair walked through the parking lot slowly, tyriq’s arm draped over the girl’s shoulder. 

“this is me” the girl said stopping in front of her car. she turned and looked at tyriq, trying to find the words to tell him that she wanted to see him again. 

they stood for a second in awkward silence, both swaying their bodies waiting for the other to speak, a laugh erupting from the pair. 

“umm i had a really good time tonight” tyriq spoke, scratching at the back of his head nervously. 

“so did i” renée said sweetly, looking up at the man batting her lashes. she hoped he was catching her drift. 

“i would love to see you again..if that’s ok with you” he said rubbing his face. 

“i thought you would never ask” she said turning her body to the side posing playfully. 

“ok great” he said relieved. he pulled the girl into a hug. once she pulled away from his embrace, she unlocked her car and he opened the door for her. 

“goodnight” she said giving the man one last hug. 

“goodnight..get home safely” he said before turning around to walk towards his own car. renée leaned in her car and set the flowers gifted to her in the passenger seat. 

“wait” she looked up to see tyriq jogging back towards her, confusing the girl. 

“i don’t have your number” he said finally making it to the girl, holding his phone out. she decided to toy with him a little bit.

“oh…i would rather we set up our next date through jorja” she said seriously, earning a confused look from the man. 

“oh ok-i understand” he said even though he didn’t. 

“i’m joking tyriq” she giggled slapping his chest lightly “you should have seen your face” she said covering her face, a snort threatening to slip out. 

“damn girl you tryna break my heart already” he said placing his hands on his chest, feigning hurt. he put his phone back in her direction, watching as the girl typed her number in. 

she handed the man his phone back, feeling a certain confidence wash over her. she stood on her tippy toes and placed a sweet kiss on his lips. time seemed to stop, tyriq’s hands found the small of her back, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. her hand found the side of his warm face. she broke the kiss giggling at her actions, this man had her acting out of body already. 

“goodnight renée” 

“goodnight tyriq” 

the girl was a giggling mess all the way home, screaming along to all the love songs in her playlist, thinking about the events of the night. 

when she finally got home she facetimed jorja. 

“I NEED HIMMM” renée screamed into the phone as soon as she saw the girls face on the screen, earning a hearty laugh and a ‘i told you so’ from her friend. renée talked jorja’s head off, rambling like a school girl about her night with tyriq and how great and funny he was while she got ready for bed. 

renée placed the pink flowers that were now in a vase on her nightstand, a smile still plastered on her face. she crawled into bed and picked up her phone once she heard it go off, he heart melting once she saw the name at the bottom of the screen. 

‘i had a great time with you tonight, i hope to see you again soon. get some sleep tonight beautiful’ 

oh he was definitely seeing her again..no need to hope, she was already sprung. 

Some days she felt trapped, like a mouse on a sticky pad. Her hands and feet fought to cling to a nearby surface to rescue herself from an inevitable demise. 

Stuck on a rollercoaster with loops the size of Saturn and speeds as swift as Zeus’s lightning bolt, penetrating Earth. Forced to endure the trial and turmoil that came with decisions she thought she hadn’t made, but later realized her complicity made it hers just the same. 

It was meant to be simple. Clean cut and simple. She didn’t need anyone to warm the left side of her bed and to share their warmth as the moon bent its light against the walls covered with contemporary art and nostalgic photos. She didn’t need to be awoken by lips on her neck and sweet somethings whispered against her ear like a love song. She didn’t need it because it wasn’t simple. It was chaotic. 

And she knew chaos well. They dealt with each other like friends in third grade—joined at the hip and inseparable. Chaos was her friend. And it was wrapped in six feet, five inches of flesh and muscle, lying beside her like he belonged there. 

She wanted to watch him. Have her iris record each crinkle of his nose, twitch of his lips, and soft groan he made as the early morning sun waved in his face so that she could watch it on replay. 

That was a luxury he hadn’t afforded her. 

She sat up slowly and swung her legs over the side of the bed. A sigh from the depths of her exhaustion filled the air, heavy with things unsaid. She bent down to grab her robe—the satin baby blue with her initials embroidered at the chest—and slid it over her arms. 

“Coulda sworn we still had two hours,” she heard him say. God, she loved his voice. Smooth like silk, thick like honey, and it dripped from the top of her head down the planes of her stomach until it landed between her thighs. “Where you goin’?”

Naomi’s lips parted, the words on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t turn around. “Some of us have early lectures, Cam,” she murmured, fingers tying the robe’s sash clumsily, cursing when she caught her thumb in a loop. 

Behind her, the sheets rustled. She felt him sit up—the bed dipped under his weight, his presence thick enough to fill up the oxygen in the room like the selfish thing he was. “You don’t gotta sneak out of your own place.” His tone was playful, but the question buried beneath it was clear as day—are you running from me again?

She finally looked at him. Skin flushed from the night before—crescents from the bend of her nails along his shoulders and chest—and the annoyingly charming, sleepy grin tugged on his lips. 

“I’m not sneaking,” she lied. She turned around again; her eyes focused on the way the fibers of the carpet caught between her manicured toes. She couldn’t look at him; he’d see her nose grow two inches. 

“It is when you move like I’mma ask you to stay,” he countered, leaning back on his hands. She could envision it now, biceps flexing like a warning while his eyebrow raised as if she was doubting his intelligence. She never doubted his. She doubted her own judgment when it came to him. 

Naomi stood to her feet and crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrow but her voice wavering. “You don’t want me to say.” It was quiet. Hardly above a whisper. It was a jackhammer in his ears. “Not like that.”

She saw it. If she blinked, she would’ve missed it, whatever it was. Too fast to name, too vulnerable to survive. He nodded once, tongue pressing into his cheek like he wanted to bite back his own truth. “Right.” His voice lowered. Rough. Honest in a way she didn’t appreciate. “Not like that.”

Another whirl around Saturn’s loop. The chaos she pretended wasn’t love buried beneath trauma, fears, and insecurities that knocked on her front door shouting, “Wanna play?” 

Naomi inhaled slowly and steadied her trembling knees. “Lock the door behind you when you leave.” 

She didn’t wait for him to respond. Didn’t need to. It’d be the same sad song that played on her scratched vinyl of a heart. She left the room with her pulse pounding in her ears like a snare drum, one question swirling in her mind like a whirlpool—if he doesn’t want you like that, why are you hurting like he does? 

-

Her spot in the stands was empty. Not occupied by another body—it was empty. No one thought to sit there, either. They knew, they knew who that seat belonged to—Naomi Sinclair and Naomi Sinclair only. And she wasn’t there. Abandoned her post like a soldier withdrawn from war. 

His green eyes scanned the stands, hoping the sweat in his eyes would blur his vision and she’d appear when he blinked thrice. That he’d see her mountain of curls sway with the bees in the air as she smiled shyly when he jogged toward her, a knowing look on his face. Nothing. Where the hell was she? 

He walked down the sideline, mid-congratulations to teammates he barely heard, half-smiles to fellow students and staff who congratulated him on his stellar performance. “Thank you.” He gave his appreciation haphazardly, his long legs carrying him toward the locker room. 

He dug in his duffel bag, fingers scraping along the sides for his phone. It’d blown up with notifications on social media, texts of excitement, and a missed FaceTime from his mother, but none from her. 

Cameron caught her eyes in the photo on the screen. They were so beautiful—big and naturally glossed like a doe. Mesmerizing and kind. They were enchanting, and he was all she saw as they stood side by side, bodies tired and minds exhausted from the early morning hike that ended with a shared shower and homemade pizza that was left forgotten on the counter. 

His lips twisted. He found her name in his contacts, thumbs quickly moving against the screen—I was looking for you. 

Her reply came five minutes later. Nao 🐩— Wasn’t feeling well.

Cameron’s neck jerked like he’d been offended. Truth be told, he was. That she felt so confident in her ability to lie. Cameron’s jaw clenched, and his chest tightened like the air had been squeezed from his lungs. Can I see you?

I don’t think that’s a good idea, came her reply. Then, almost too casually, she added: Congrats on the dub, QB.

Cold. Dismissive. And it burned him from the inside out. 

Days passed. Texts went unanswered. Calls met voicemail. She even went as far as dropping off a bag of the clothes he left at her apartment by his front door, a half-torn sticky note with her perfect cursive—Figured you’d need these. 

Then, he saw her. With someone else. That crooked smile that only appeared when she was flustered, struggling to fight off the darts of compliments that penetrated her armor. 

“Did you dye your hair?” Cameron asked, taking a curl between his thumb and forefinger. It was hardly noticeable. Just a shade lighter, something to lighten her features. “Let me see…”

His other hand came under her chin, moving her head gently. “It’s pretty.” It was a simple compliment. One she’d heard since she left the salon two days ago. Yet, it unlocked the cage of butterflies that settled at her core, and she shuddered. Then, she smiled. Small, kind of crooked, like she didn’t want him to see it, but all Naomi, nonetheless. 

“Thank you…” 

She laughed. A nice, hearty chuckle at whatever the hell the guy said, leaning too close, smiling like that wasn’t reserved for him and him alone.

The world narrowed to that single frame. She was with him. Not him. And every ounce of control Cameron Cade thought he had slipped from his fingertips and onto the concrete below. 

-

“So, you seein’ other niggas now?”

Naomi’s spine stiffened before she turned. That voice—low, sharpened, like honey crusted over—was too familiar. She closed her eyes, mumbling a small prayer to whomever would listen. She lifted her chin. “Last I checked,” she said, “we aren’t together. And he’s a classmate.”

Cameron’s hands tightened at his eyes, knuckles whitening like he wanted to rip something apart but had nowhere to put the energy. Her words echoed in his skill. She’s not mine. She’s never been mine. 

His body betrayed him anyway. The wells of self-control ran dry, and he impelled like poison. Heat pooled low in his stomach, muscles tensing without permission. That sharp retort laced with confidence, combined with that unapologetic glare—it did things to him. Things he wasn’t supposed to feel when he knew she was untouchable. 

So, she thought. 

The words landed like a blow to the jaw—sharp, intense, painful. 

“Classmate, huh?” Despite the slide in his voice, he was unamused. Not angry, not even questioning. Just dangerously aware. 

Naomi didn’t flinch. Her eyes flashed like lightning. Because she had a spine, and she wasn’t bending it for him. “Yeah, classmate. And even if he wasn’t…what’s your bird-chested ass gon’ do about it, huh? Cry yourself to sleep because somebody else was doing what you should be doing? Let me tell you something, nigga: we’re not together. That’s your doing. And make sure your balls drop some more before you start talking crazy. It’s always the lightskins.”

Cameron exhaled slowly through his nose, nostrils flaring. One thing Naomi did well was piss him off, yet he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Not when flames of fire rose in her eyes or when she adjusted the flare leggings that fit her like a glove. 

He stepped closer. Just a fraction. Close enough that his strong hand cupped the front of her neck and squeezed. Not sufficient to welcome pain, just enough to remind her who she was dealing with. A warning. 

Cameron’s lips brushed against the shell of her ear, his warm breath awakening the desire she had forced to lie dormant. “You can talk all the shit you want, Naomi, but you mine. You always gon’ be mine, and there ain’t nothin’ you can do or say to change that. So, lock in, Slim.”

She hated him. And she hated the way her body reacted to his touch, to his voice, to that stupid nickname he gave her that she grew to love. It made her feel like she was his when they both knew she wasn’t. 

Naomi gasped, her eyelids fluttering as his mouth found her neck. “Cam…” The angel on her shoulder told her to flee. Run from the temptation in front of her, named Cameron Cade. Its dark counterpart pushed her to get what she wanted; to use him like he used her. Over and over and over again. 

He hummed lowly, acknowledging her call. She craned her head to the right, just enough to connect her lips to his. It was a slow kiss. Slow and sloppy, just how he liked it. She let him hear her soft moans. She let him touch her, hand on the curve of her ass, while the other stayed around her neck. Then, she pulled away just enough to whisper against his lips, “Fuck you, Cam. And lock my door.” 

-

Naomi hated house parties. 

She had her fill freshman year—shoulder-to-shoulder with sweaty bodies, the air thick with weed and spilled liquor, music too loud to force a real smile. She used to blame the chaos.

Now she blamed him. 

She hated them for a different reason now. Forget the ogling eyes of men who were never bold enough to catch whatever she threw; any desire she had to be in the same space as Cameron Cade had hopped in a basket and journeyed to the pits of hell. 

And yet, here she was— pressed against the wall beside the bathroom while her line sisters soaked in every aspect of Black college nightlife like they were on scholarship for it. 

Her irritation sat in her chest like static. It buzzed. It sparked. It pissed her off. 

She scoffed to herself and took a swig from her water bottle. The one she had filled with vodka before she faced half a blunt by herself, because life was short and she was petty. 

“And tell me why we’re going to an Alpha party, again?” Naomi grumbled as she secured her watch on her wrist. “That’s the last place I wanna be.” 

Her sister barely glanced up from her lip liner. “Music. Section. Drinks—free drinks. And girl—Cam isn’t the only Alpha on campus.” 

Naomi rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw her brain. “Cam is the reason no other Alpha would dare step to me.”

The truth tasted sour on her tongue. Because he never claimed her…not really. Not in the way she needed. But he made damn sure no one else got the chance to either. 

He saw her from across the room. Had eyes on her the moment she crossed the threshold. Beneath shadows and ribbons of smoke that’d latch to his skin like latex, she was there, a scowl set deep in her features and disinterest dressing her like a second skin. 

She looked good. But when did she not? Her legs, firm from years of running down a pitch and striking nets with ease, glistened beneath the low lights of the house. His eyes, rimmed with desire, drank her in so quickly he may have choked. 

His gaze landed heavily on her, and she felt it like a burden, crushing and lumbering. Like she’d collapse beneath the weight of his stare. 

She turned, her shoes squeaking against dirty hardwood and slipping against spilled juice, and fled—well, tried to flee—toward the front door. God, she couldn’t escape him. Not when an assemblage of bodies blocked the narrow pathway toward the door. 

Naomi didn’t flinch when a familiar hand swept over the dip of her hip and splayed over her stomach. Who else would dare to touch her in such a way? To let their fingers dance along the exposed skin of her inner thigh. 

Then, against her neck where the small, cursive tattoo was—Slim—he said, “You done avoidin’ me or we still playin’ games?” She inhaled deeply, her fingers curling around the tension in the palm of her hand. “Yes, no?” 

“I’m not avoiding you, and there’s no game to be played,” Naomi said through gritted teeth. He hardly heard her over the booming bass that rattled the walls like a thunderous boom. 

She took a step, her heel skating just an inch away, and was pulled back. Naomi’s body swayed like a reed in the wind as she stood in front of him, fiery vehemence unveiling itself from behind her dark eyes. “What, Cameron?” She dropped her hands in frustration. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“Why would I?” Desire perverted. Her wants twisted to fit a narrative that made him feel better about the fact that he was playing in her face, and she let him. 

They were chest to chest now. Two rapidly beating heartbeats attempting to sync with each other, despite the violent war that was waged inside of them—a need to be loved versus a need to protect themselves. How could there be a victor? 

He hovered over her, forehead brushing against her temple, slick with sweat and edge control that was no match for a 90-degree frat house. His hand, that one, found her waist, his thumb curling around the gold belt around the black mini dress with a cowl neckline. “You wear this for me, baby?” 

She could feel it. The eyes of onlookers. She heard it. The whispers of She’s with Cameron? and When did that happen? They meant nothing to him. It didn’t stop his lips from attaching to her neck, sucking at the skin there with intent. 

“What are you,” Her voice lost its authority the moment his tongue traced the curve of her jaw. Trembling hands pressed against his strong chest, nails biting into the cotton fabric of his shirt, unsure whether to pull him near or push him away. “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” He mumbled into her cheek. His mouth found hers, and he bit her bottom lip, pulling a soft sound from her. She shook her head and stepped back. “No, no. Y-you don’t get to do this. You knew what I meant—not in a corner of a party when folks are too drunk and you’re too horny to take me seriously. No.” 

She tore her hand out of his grasp and pushed passed the lingering bodies who’d been primary witnesses to the show she’d broadcast—The Mess of Naomi’s Love Life. He was hot on her trail, the sole of his wheat-colored boots scuffing the hardwood floor as he stomped behind her like a man obsessed. 

“Am I a joke to you, Cade?” Naomi shouted, squirming like a cat in a street fight to break free from his grasp. “Get off me, nigga. I do not like you.” She huffed and slung her black Coach (the one he bought) over her shoulder. 

Cameron sighed heavily, head tilted toward the sky as he silently asked for all the help he could get. Sentiments and vulnerability weren’t his strong suit. What man did he know, did he have, to teach him the importance of being gentle with a woman? None. 

So here they stood, mere feet apart, with love and hate battling for their hearts as they struggled to find a middle ground. Cameron ran a hand down his face and said lowly, “You’re not a joke, Naomi. Never were.” 

Naomi’s gaze softened, but she remained firm and unmoving. She didn’t respond. Just raised an eyebrow in a way that looked awfully like her mother; the look that said “Speak.” 

Cameron shifted on his feet uncomfortably. Shit. He’d rehearsed what he planned to say, each version more polished than the last. But standing here, they collapsed into silence. 

What could he say? Sorry for being inconsistent, for wanting you close but not giving myself in return. Or, maybe—I’m scared of vulnerability. The oldest excuse in the book. So worn, so overused, he barely believed it himself. 

It wasn’t until long days stretched into lonely nights, when the right side of his bed was cold to the touch, that it settled. When her remnants of her perfume lifted from the fabric of his pillow and were carried away with the wind. When he saw her seat empty and the breeze didn’t carry her voice calling his name into the field. 

He missed her. 

He struggled to admit it. Couldn’t. It would change everything, their agreement, and would destroy the walls he’d spent years building. But how strong were they if she managed to squeeze through the cracks?

“I saw you with someone else and…” Cameron didn’t meet her eyes, fearful that her brown eyes would turn him to stone. “That messed me up. Cause, it’s like, damn…who wouldn’t want to be with you? And you looked at ease. Like that was the kind of interaction you craved—to be revered out loud.” 

Naomi swallowed thickly, digging the heel of her gold shoes in the dirt. Cameron took a step forward. She didn’t move. 

“I don’t know how to love you properly,” he admitted with a sigh and a shrug that were meant to hide the emotions that bubbled to the surface without his permission. “But I know I do love you, and that scares me, Slim. I love you, and I hate you for doing this to me, and I want to protect you and give you the world, but I don’t know how…”

I love you. I love you. I love you, and that scares me. I love you. I love you. 

It took six months. Six months for him to respond to Eros’ arrow; she was surprised he didn’t defiantly continue to reject it. It was what her heart craved to receive, what her ears were desperate to hear, and she had no idea what to do with it. 

I love you, and I hate you for doing this to me…I want to protect you and give you the world…

…But I don’t know how.

Naomi's eyes, big and doe-like in a nature that made his stomach leap, glazed over. Her lips twisted—he couldn’t tell if she wanted to cry, laugh in his face, or do both. He wouldn’t blame her for either. 

“You love me by showing me I am more than a body to keep your bed warm,” Naomi replied, her voice wavering but unyielding. A single tear fell, and she wiped it away quickly, the same fear of vulnerability that kept them apart, rising to the surface. “You ask me, and I will tell you. I tell you and you execute.”

“Tell me, then.” He was close to her now. She could smell mint and desperation on his breath. “Please…”

“I want you to be committed to me. I want you to love me out loud, not beneath sheets. When the sun’s out. Where everyone can see.” 

Her heart’s desire. Laid on a platter not much larger than the palm of her hand. It was all she had left to give. Cameron’s eyes searched hers, tracing the dark outer rings until he landed on her pupils, which dilated the longer she looked at him. 

“Twenty-four hours, seven days, fifty-two weeks,” he muttered, the pad of his thumb caressing her chin. “I’m yours.”

-

“Lock the door,” she panted breathlessly as they stumbled into her apartment like teenagers drunk on immature love and newfound lust, unable to separate from one another. His dominant hand left her waist and fumbled with the lock behind her—click. 

Her purse slid off her shoulder and onto the coffee table as they trekked toward her bedroom, lips sewn together by an invisible string. Naomi hummed lowly, her arms thrown over his broad shoulders, her nails scratching gently the base of his neck.

His hands slid down her exposed thighs, cupping the back of her thighs until she wrapped her legs at his hips. He nearly tripped over the array of shoes she had along the carpeted floor, the bed breaking what was the verge of a disastrous fall.

Cameron broke away, eyes glazed with an emotion she wasn’t sure she’d seen before. Desire. Infatuation. Adoration. Love. His lips, damp from claiming hers as his own, parted slightly. God, had she always been this beautiful? 

Every tendril, though damp and slightly frizzy, was perfectly drawn by the hands of her creator. Her nose crinkled as she waited in anticipation, and her eyes; they’ve made him come undone before any brush of her lips against his skin or any rake of her nails down his back. 

“You,” Cameron said, breathing in her scent like it was all he needed to live. “are so beautiful.” 

The corner of her lip twitched. She couldn’t hold back the toothy grin even if she tried. She’d spent the last few days, weeks, even, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t completely and utterly consumed by him. 

Cameron Cade was her undoing and her fortification. 

He kissed down her body slowly, reverently, in a way he’d never done before. He took his time. Peeled her dress off with delicacy. Removed her heels with grace. His lips grazed her ankle, the inside of her thigh, and her collarbone. “I’ll stop whenever you want me to.” 

Naomi sighed meekly when his fingers grazed her sensitivity. “Don’t stop.” He hummed in approval and slid down her body, lifting her thigh so it sat on his shoulder. 

To please was his favorite thing to do, specifically pleasing her. Nothing could compare to fleshy thighs quaking by his head and deep moans filling his ears like a song, over and over until she cried—

“T-too much.” Her hand pushed at his head, and she gasped his name like a memorized prayer. “Can’t…” His thumbs caressed her inner thighs, feeling them quiver. Her chest heaved, and her fingers clenched the dark comforter. 

His quiet, “You okay?” came muffled as he yanked the dark sweatshirt over his face. It joined the array of clothes they’d have to differentiate between clean and dirty in the morning, but that was tomorrow’s problem. She captured his attention as he unbuckled his belt and stepped out of the layers that kept him covered. 

“M’okay,” she said after some time, legs falling open like a gate the moment his body covered hers. She welcomed the pressure of him inside her with a gasp and passion passion-drunk smile. Her head lulled to the side, jaw slack and heart pounding in her ears. 

It was different. This was different. Slow and intentional. Gentle and soft. Quieter—no harsh slapping of skin or loud shouts of ecstasy, but minds so sedated with love that the simplest caress of her jaw by patient hands brought tears to her eyes. 

Her lips parted, shallow breaths beating into his neck. Her hands trembled as the pleasure that came from soft love consumed her. Her nails bit into his shoulder, a tell-tale sign. 

Cameron smiled against her collarbone, his tongue tracing every bead of sweat and devotion that seeped from her pores. Against her damp skin, he muttered, “I love you.” She choked on a sound—something between a sob and a moan. “You love me, baby?” Baby. 

Naomi’s hips stuttered, and she nodded twice. Her gaze was on his face, cheeks flushed with warmth, eyes rimmed with months of unspoken words.

“Tell me,” he mumbled against her ear. He groaned lowly. “Tell me, baby, I wanna hear it you say it.”

Her stomach flexed as she gasped, “Yes! I love you; I love you…”

Cameron Cade—her undoing and her fortification.

-

One Year Later

“Good game,” Naomi repeated to a line of opposing players as she tucked her ball beneath her arm. The early morning drills were a pain, but they paid off when she scored a brace against the opposing team. 

She shook out her legs and trudged toward the sidelines, her joints like cinderblocks with every step she took. God, she’d killed for a hot shower, a large pizza, a glass of wine, and reruns of Scandal. She panted tiredly, nearly stumbling over her feet as exhaustion from playing ninety minutes started to catch up, as the adrenaline faded. 

Naomi spent minimal time in the dressing room post-match. She slid her hoodie over her jersey—7—replaced her cleats with Crocs, and bid her farewells to the team. Phone in hand, she barely registered his lean figure against the wall, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other held out a bouquet of roses. 

Naomi smiled. “Well, aren’t you just the charmer?” She took the flowers, mumbling about how she’d need more vases to keep up with the weekly deliveries. “Thank you.” She slid her hand against his, swinging their arms as they embarked on a short journey to her car. 

Cameron glanced at her, a small smile on his face as he listened to her ramble on about her evening plans—Scandal, pizza, and wine. She gasped mid-sentence and leaned against her car door. “You should join me. We can wake up with stomachaches together.” 

“Wine drunk with greasy pizza?” Cameron raised an eyebrow, adjusting her backpack over his shoulder. Naomi nodded, her dimples fighting to make an appearance. “What do I get for it?” 

Naomi’s tongue poked the inside of her cheek as she shrugged, her eyes narrowing with mischief. “I’ll let you shower with me.”

His eyes lit up. “Girl, I don’t know why you wastin’ time,” Cameron mumbled, opening her car door. “We gotta go.” 

-

“Naomi, how do you open this shit?” Cameron hollered from the kitchen, corkscrew in one hand, and a chilled bottle in the other. Their impromptu date night started a few minutes behind schedule. A fifteen-minute shower turned to thirty, and all the suds’ hard work went to waste the moment she bent down to moisturize her legs. 

Her giggle preceded her, and he bit back a smile. “You run plays in your head, and you can’t work a corkscrew, Cam?” She adjusted the towel around her head and jogged over to him, standing between his strong chest and the granite countertop. 

“See?” She stuck the sharp metal tip into the cork, clamped the wings, and turned. She stood on her toes and yanked the cork from the bottle neck with a soft pop! “Easy.” 

“I think you tryna show off,” Cameron countered, reaching above her for two glasses. She pushed her frames further on her nose and smirked. “You just salty.” He hummed and slid his arm around her waist. 

Noami’s hands steadied themselves on his chest as they swayed to the voice of Olivia Pope in the background. She stood on her toes and kissed him, breathing in everything he was. “I love you.”

Cameron’s hand squeezed her waist. “I love you, too.” 

-

..

before — two months ago

“How do you feel being there so far knowing it’s almost over? Is Isaiah sad to see you go?”

You lied stomach first on your bed, your phone beside you and on speaker phone. The soothing voice of your… ex? new friend? flowed through the phone. His contact name simply saying ‘Cam’ with the call time of 1:20:05.

Cameron sighed. “Man.. it’s weird because I could do another year here doing this shit.. but at the same time, I’m ready to come home. I’ve gotten used to the way they do shit around here but I’d be lying if I said I’d prefer it. I need to get back to doing shit on my time”

You playfully squinted, “speaking of that, they took your real phone, right? How the fuck haven’t they found this burner? Or at least caught you on it”

Cameron only chuckled, “I’m real slick wit’ it, beloved. Take some notes from ‘ya boy, I’ll show you the ropes”

You rolled your eyes, “ha! Yeah okay..” your cheeks burned with a blush that you hated. It felt nice to laugh with Cameron like this after a year and a half.

You Pinterest surfed on your iPad as he spoke.

“.. and Zay? He’s cool as fuck. He said he’ll miss me but I’m leaving with his contact info so it’s cool. He been teaching me the ins and outs because you know he won hella championships back in the day—“

“Oh yeah, I watched that one highlight you sent me of his touchdown that got his team that last win before he retired. He’s really good” You chimed in. You could see Cam nodding.

“More than good, girl— the fucking goat. I’m tryna get like that.. I feel like being here will put me right up there where he used to be. The championships, the gold, the exposure… just like my daddy told me about..”

His words took you from the images of Pinterest and peering at your phone. Cam— 1:40:00. You nodded like he could see you. Cam only spoke about his father with you in the moments that called for it.

“Well, Cameron Cade, I think you’re doing your father right by being there. He’s with you every step of the way and I know he’s proud of you” You kindly responded back.

Regardless of where you stood with Cam in your relationship, that was a compliment you’d always extend. It was true.

“Thank you, (Y/N).. that means a lot..” he cleared his throat, “um, yeah, I’m outta here real soon and when I am, I’ll let you know!”

..

now — present day.

“What the fuck happened to that? You told me you’d let me know. Yo, I waited for you, I thought we were cool, Cam”

You continued staring at him, waiting for him to speak. Instead his head continued resting on the wall of the section, he barely paid you any mind.

But you knew this reaction. Cameron Cade liked to shut down when being rightfully confronted or if he felt defensive. He liked to go nonverbal, almost like talking to a wall.

You waved your hand across his face. “Hello? Are you seriously pretending like you didn’t say that? Or that you don’t care?”

“I know what I said” Cameron simply responded.

Your eyes went wide, “and you don’t care? Is that what I’m hearing right now?”

Cameron shrugged, “I didn’t say that”

“It doesn’t matter that you didn’t say it, it’s the way you’re acting now! It’s the way you’ve been acting since you came home. You didn’t see me calling and asking for you one whole month after you said you’d be back? I had to find out from Instagram that you were back?”

His silence only pissed you off some more. It might not have looked explosive on your face but you were heated on the inside.

“That’s lame as hell, Cameron, and you know it”

The man sighed and stood up straighter, his eyes boring into yours, “(Y/N), what do you want from me? I didn’t tell you I made it home? Okay, I’m sorry, I apologize. That camp kicked my ass through and fucking through, sorry that I didn’t check in with you as soon as my feet hit the fucking ground—“

You held your hand up, stopping him. “Don’t curse at me, you know how I feel about that”

“Okay but what about the role you’re playing here? You’re cussing me out in this club, embarrassing me on a night planned for me, and for what? I can’t go back in time, (Y/N), I’m here already. I did it, it happened. So where do we go from here?”

You stared blankly at the man, his stupid, pretty face turned up just a little from his own ranting. You only shook your head.

“That’s some bullshit and you know it. You’re missing the principle of why I’m mad and that’s so fucking typical of you. Just forget it”

You grabbed your purse and tossed it over your shoulder, about to turn on your heels. Cameron’s hot hand grabbed your wrist.

“Nah, stop, stay right here with me so we can talk this out. You never let me walk away so I’m not letting you walk away. I don’t give a fuck about this club”

“Fuck that and fuck you, don’t touch me.” You chuckled sarcastically and snatched your wrist from his grip, already walking out of the section and through the crowds of dancing people.

You didn’t need to look behind you to see that Cameron was trailing you trying to keep up. You were breezing past the bouncers and to your parked car on the curb, walking around to the drivers side.

Cameron Cade was just two feet behind you, practically chasing you down. But by the time he got up to you, you were already hopping inside of your car and closing the door, keys itching the ignition.

“(Y/N), wait, don’t leave yet. Let me explain!” He stood at the window of your passenger side door.

You rolled the window town, meeting his eyes. “Cameron Cade, I will run you over. Get away from my car”

Cameron pleaded, “(Y/N), please. I got way out of my body back there, I’m sorry. You’re right, me acting like this is after all you did for me is some bullshit and I didn’t mean any of it. Please let me talk to you”

If looks could kill, Cameron would be dead. You growled and hit the unlock button. “Get in this car and shut up until we get to my house”

That’s how you found yourself on the far end of your couch, eyeing Cameron like prey as he sat on the other side.

“Cameron Cade, you better come correct before I lose my mind”

He sighed and laid back onto the cushions, his head tilted back and staring up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes.

“Fuck.. I know I keep saying it but I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, (Y/N). I just.. I don’t be fuckin’ thinkin’ sometimes and pissing everybody off.. even myself. Sometimes I get so mad, I can’t be rational..”

“And that shit is so unfair, especially to me, Cam” you began, “I told you it wasn’t a good idea for us to get back talking while you were gone and what happened? I got rid of that boundary for you”

Cam opened his eyes and looked over at you. He didn’t speak for a moment until now. “Why?”

Fuck. Did you say too much?

It was your turn to not meet his eye. This was it, you couldn’t take it back.

“Maybe I missed you, Cam” you admitted. “Maybe I thought that if I enforced that boundary that I’d lose you forever knowing I didn’t fully have closure yet. Us talking again gave me hope that us being done didn’t have to be forever”

Tears blurred your vision, enough for you to not realize Cameron sliding himself close to you.

Close enough for his forefinger cup underneath your eye and catch the tear that made its way out. Close enough for his other hand to cup the other side of your face and thumb away the tears that fell.

Soft pink, teary eyes staring deep into gentle hazels.

“Don’t cry, mama. It’ll all be okay” Cameron murmured.

“You don’t know that, Cameron. You just don’t. You can’t say that if you don’t know”

He shook his head, determination newfound swirling in his irises.

“I can say that because I’m gonna make sure it’ll be okay. You and me, me and you. No matter the circumstances, it was always going to be you, (Y/N). I’ll do whatever you tell me to if it means getting us back to where we need to be”

You stayed silent, observing him. You didn’t care to object when he got closer in your space, you didn’t care to object when his hands were releasing your face and grabbing at your waist to pull you into his lap.

“You don’t gotta do anything but be here, let me take care of the rest because it’s my fault anyway. I broke us up, I left you alone, I disappointed you— all of the shit I promised I would never do and ended up doing it”

Cameron pleaded his case. One hand stayed on your hip, the other cupping your face. The softness of his lips pressed against your cheek twice before trailing down to your jaw and finally finding home in your neck.

“Let me take care of you, let me show you.. let daddy prove it to you”

Still, you didn’t respond.. you also didn’t stop him. You should’ve.. you fucking should’ve.

Cameron Cade made it a point to take his time like you were slated to disappear. Thighs in arms, hands full of flesh, face buried in your pussy.

Cameron Cade relished in the fact that he’d gotten you off three times already. His mouth alone was twice, the dangerous combination of his mouth and his fingers was the next eye rolling, chest heaving, toe curling release.

“Cam, please” you whimpered pathetically, manicured nails caressing his buzzed head, earning you a groan. “Please, I-I can’t do it again, it’s too much”

Cameron didn’t say anything, he just stood from your legs and hovered over you, slanting his lips over yours.

Your mouths moved perfectly in sync, no misstep being that you hadn’t kissed him like this in a year and a half. Neither of you missed a beat. Sensually mingling your tongues against one another before pulling back and gently nipping at your bottom lip.

“You know I love you, right?” Cameron asked you as his hands slickly began unbuttoning your denim skirt. “Lift up— you know I love you, right, girl?” You obeyed and lifted your hips, allowing the article and your panties to slip down your legs.

“Yes” you muttered.

“Yeah? I don’t believe you, you’re just sayin’ shit to get what you want. Imma ask you again—“

Cameron kneeled on the bed, his dominant hand fell back in between your legs, just ghosting over your center. Your lower half jolted, still sensitive. He heard you whine.

“Do you know that I love you?”

You sat up on your forearms, staring up at your ex. Eyes boring into his, trying to memorize him. You let out a breath and nodded surely. “Yes, Cam, I know that you love me”

That earned you a smirk like smile and Cameron stripping himself of his shirt. “Good girl because it’s true.. you’ve ruined me for other people, I can’t love anyone else the way I love you, (Y/N)”

Your heart thumped loudly in your ears, it was hard to focus the more you watched Cameron get you both on the same level— completely naked. His hands palmed at the warmth of your breasts, your hands lightly scraped down his back.

Cameron had you under the covers of your duvet, head surrounded and supported by pillows. The honey ash blonde strands cascading around the fabrics.. you looked so fucking gorgeous.

Arms around his neck, legs around his waist, chest to chest, lips on yours devouring you. His girth slowly inching inside of you little by little.. stretching you out wonderfully. It was a feeling you hadn’t had in almost two years, it felt so fucking good.

Once Cameron was fully seated inside of you, he pulled back from your lips and glanced down at you.

“Tell me you missed me” he pecked your cheek, “c’mon, pretty girl, lemme hear you.. y’know I love it when you’re talkin’ to me knowing I’m deep in this pussy..”

You gasped out a whine, nails caressing his back softly. You felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest. You met his intense eye.

“I missed you, Cam.. really fucking missed you. I don’t ever wanna be without you again” you leaned forward and pecked his lips.

Cameron groaned, his hips pulling back and pushing forward. His pace was perfect, the rhythm of this thrusts set that feeling in your mind and body that he had a purpose.

This wasn’t going to be the kind of makeup sex where you both talked shit to each other but rather the kind of love making that transcended time.

He captured your lips and picked up his thrusting pace just a little, forcing the noises out of you that he loved.

“You’n ever gotta worry about that, baby, I swear to God.. swear ‘m not ever leavin’ you. I’m in this shit with you until death, you hear me?”

He supported himself on his dominant arm and let the other hand cup your throat. Nothing fiercely dominant or aggressive, but with a gentle firm squeeze, your eyes rolled back to your head, back arching.

You nodded, crying out. “Fuck, Cameron, please!”

He fucked you faster, grunting. “What did I say, huh? You gon’ be with me forever or no?”

You nodded eagerly, one hand coming up to rest over the hand on your neck. You clung to Cameron desperately, a soft blur of tears clouding your vision.

“Yes, yes, I wanna be with you! You and nobody else, I fucking promise.. fuck, Cam, ‘m right there, ‘m so close..”

Cameron moaned deeply, his eyes closing for a brief moment. “Mhm good, ‘gon ‘head and gimme all of that, it’s been too fuckin’ long”

You let go as soon as his words ceased, the coil in your stomach finally snapping and flowing. You squeezed your eyes shut, so much that the tears slipped down your cheeks. A shriek coming from the depths of your throat.

Cameron groaned heartily at the feeling of your walls borderline suffocating his cock. Throbbing, spasmic clenching. That put the man in the danger zone of his own orgasm.

“‘M gon’ marry you, whatchu think about that? ‘Gon let me wife you up? Make you mine forever?”

You nodded again, staring your watery eyes passionately into Cameron’s hazel blueish greens.

“Have your babies?” You murmured from below him, tightening your legs around his powering lower half. Hand coming up to cup the side of his face.

Cameron purred, leaning in and nuzzling his face into your hand before pressing a kiss there. “Fuck yeah, girl, you already know it.. you’re not goin’ anywhere”

“You’re not either”

The small hint of possessiveness from you showed its face and turned Cameron Cade all the way up. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss you.

“Yeah? I’m yours? This your dick?” He smugly asked, purposefully now hitting that warm, gummy, spongy spot inside of you that set your body on fire.

Still, you kept some kind of composure and nodded at his question. “That’s all mine and you better fucking know it”

You kissed him again. “Just like I’m yours.. just like this pussy is yours. We been waitin’ on you to come home, baby..”

The seductive tone of your already filthy words was enough to push Cameron over the edge and deep into the abyss. He didn’t bother to pull out, instead shoving himself deep inside of you as possible.

“Shit.. fuck, girl, goddamn” Cameron groaned. His release was overwhelming and filled you up beyond belief.

You’d never tell him that you missed feeling him like that.

After a minute of pure comfortable silence and trying to come down, your eyes met. It could’ve been the post orgasmic haze that swirled in both of your eyes but nothing else danced there.

Just pure love and admiration. You were the first to initiate the hundredth kiss that night, you arms circling Cameron’s neck and pulling him even closer.

The man wrapped an arm around your body and easily flipped you on your side, the sensual kiss still holding on. His hand crawled into your hair to cup the back of your head.

“I fucking love you, girl. I really mean it” Cameron said after pulling back and staring into your eyes.

“I love you too. Please don’t ever put me through this again, I’m literally begging”

Cameron nodded his head vigorously and cupped the side of your face. The familiar look of seriousness settled into your chest.

“Let me keep proving it to you. My words don’t mean shit if I keep fucking up and I’m done with that. I love you— I need you. I just want another chance, actions only”

You didn’t have to respond for Cameron to get the message. For Cameron to get your acceptance. For Cameron to hold onto your heart again.

And this time? There wouldn’t be another last time.

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