CHAPTER
THREE
Cami
“What?” I repeated for the fourth time at my counselor the next day. “I’m at risk of not graduating because no one told me I was missing a science and a philosophy class?”
Mrs. Applebaum nodded and eyed her watch. I’d booked a twenty-minute slot with her, and I still had eight minutes left. My eye twitched at her obvious lack of manners, and I recrossed my leg over the other.
“Since you changed your major three times and added a business minor, it’s no surprise you’re not on track. Plus, with the dance thing.” She waved her head in the air like my dance thing was an errant fly.
“The dance thing? You mean being on the school’s dance team?”
“That.” She cleared her throat and eyed me over her big round glasses. Her gaze moved toward my tank top and shorts, the judgement in her eyes quite obvious. It wasn’t new to have adults scoff at my outfits or sneer at my small straps. It wasn’t their body, and they could kiss my ass. It wasn’t like my nipples were out in the open. All the necessary parts were covered. Their reaction wasn’t new, but it still hurt anyway.
“If you actually put your mind to it, you could add both classes to this semester. You’d be at twenty-one credits, which…” She sucked her teeth and looked down at me. “We should be realistic about your success--”
“Thanks for your vote of confidence. Such a voice for your students.” I stood, annoyed at her attitude, and I jotted down the classes I needed on a sticky note. “I’ll be fine without your help. Say, where’s a comment card? Not all girls have my moxie, and they should be warned about your judgmental attitude.”
She blinked and blustered, but I didn’t wait around. I had my course names and knew there was a self-transcript report I could pull to figure out what credits I needed. Plus, my twin sister would help me if I asked. I barged out of the counselor office from the arts building, irritated as hell. People had coveted the fact I was on the dance team my whole life until now. I was majoring in dance and minoring in business, and people thought that was dumb? Whatever.
I wanted to open my own dance studio and run it. That was my dream, and I eyed the list of classes on the note. Twenty-one credits—first semester. During football and the start of basketball season. The most I’d ever taken was fifteen, and it was tough my sophomore year. There was the real possibility that I wouldn’t succeed.
The itch to do something irrational danced down my spine. This happened more and more frequently when my life was out of control, and I wanted something risky. I scanned the quad and frowned. There was nothing dangerous on campus unless I counted eating at Hank’s. Their food was trash.
I’d promised my sister I wouldn’t go on dates with sketchy men after the incident last year where she picked me up from a strip club. But the excitement, the adrenaline, and the thrill of being scared was inviting. It’s just your need for attention. My dad’s voice of reason clashed with my need to take a risk, and I hung my head. This was why Coach didn’t want me being captain.
I knew better.
I forced myself to walk back to the hot ass dorms to make sure I had all my shit for the semester to start next week. The addition of the two classes meant I needed books, and I had a budget for that.
Another thing people never thought I could do—handle money or do math. Pretty dance girls could use their brains sometimes. Who knew?
My navy blue crop top and white shorts stuck to my skin like they were soaking wet. I liked how the material felt on my skin, and I was proud of my body. It was a doozy outside, so I propped my dorm door open. I had two boxed fans now, but they weren’t working. I needed more airflow. Stat.
I set my bag on my desk, kicked off my sandals, and moved the chair toward the windows. The fan could maybe fit there. I unplugged it and tried shoving it into the screen, but my muscles burned, and shit. I dropped it.
The fan crashed against the tiled floor. If it broke, I’d probably cry.
“You alright?” a deep voice asked, the sexy owner leaning against my door frame. Freddie had no business standing like that with those biceps on display. He was too hot for his own good, and my skin tingled just from being in the same room as him. Such a gentle waste of muscles. According to Naomi, he didn’t play sports. He read and studied and liked trivia.
We were so different.
But our differences didn’t matter. He was a jerk who I was pretty sure hated me. So, I did what I always did when confronted with someone who thought poorly of me. Flirted and teased. With him, his eyes would flash with anger, and that emotion did something to me. Lit me up, enticing me because I wanted more of that.
“You able to use your large muscles and help me get my fan in this window or would you prefer to glare at me?”
A line appeared between his brows, and he pushed off the frame to join me. He wore another dark fitted shirt and black jeans with chucks. Nothing fancy or exciting, but my pulse doubled when he stood right next to me. Maybe it was the thick glasses or the way his hair fell onto his forehead. Heat radiated from him as he picked up the fan and hoisted it toward the window, the movement causing the delicious scent of firewood to waft my way.
“I can’t see the edge. Could you make sure it’s wedged there?” he said, his arm brushing mine as he pushed the fan into position.
That brief touch offered a zap of heat, and I made sure to avoid contact as I helped adjust its angle. After a few pivots, it was in.
“Thank you,” I said, jumping down to plug it in and turn it on. The temperature decreased by one degree, but it was worth it.
“Yeah, sure.”
I closed my eyes as the wind danced over my face and hair. It smelled like fresh-cut grass and summertime--a scent I couldn't pinpoint the exact smell of. It was a combination of sunshine, sunscreen, sweat, and fun. Freddie cleared his throat, reminding me he was still in my tiny room with his arms on display, and I snapped my gaze to him. The dark glasses and dark hair worked so well on him. And the gray eyes… if I was back to my old bullshit, I’d see how far I could get with him. But his position on me was clear, and I was trying to stay away from problems, not jump naked into their arms.
He studied me with slightly narrowed eyes and a tight jaw. The muscles around his neck were flexed. Bunched up. Like he was stressed, too. I chewed the side of my lip, and before I could overthink it, I asked, “You doing okay?”
“I’m fine.” He stepped back, and bam, the open expression I saw was gone. We were back to McAsshole again. “Don’t leave your fan plugged in when you’re gone. It could cause a fire.”
“I’m not an idiot, thank you.” The comment reminded me of my not-helpful counselor. The rage I kept right under the surface bubbled out at his judgmental gaze. “God, I’m sick of people assuming I don’t use my brain. Can a girl dance, be pretty, and be smart? Apparently not. Just get out.”
“I didn’t… I don’t think you’re an idiot.” He hesitated, those gray eyes blinking fast. “Did someone tell you that you were?”
“I’m a big girl, Freddie. I can handle it.” I put on my fake performance smile, the one I wore more and more it seemed. The same one on the campus billboard. “I appreciate you helping me though.”
He frowned hard, and firm lines appeared around his mouth. “Careful with the fan.”
“Of course. I promise to not stick wires in it or play with matches too.” I smiled again, jutting my chin toward the door, and he listened this time. Once he was out of view, I collapsed on the bed, tired of everything.
Of pretending to be okay. Of pretending that not being captain didn’t destroy me. Of the assumptions and looks and the fact I didn’t have a circle of people to lean on. Even my friendships in the sorority weren’t deep. We kept it simple. Fun. That was me: simple and fun and wild.
My eyes stung, and I sniffed before I could will the tears away. My nose got stuffy, and pressure filled my head. Fuck. No. Not now. My anxiety took weird forms, and my stress headaches would
spiral into bad decisions.
I grabbed my towel and shower shoes, yanked my shower caddy with me, and made it to the bathroom before the tears started.
I couldn’t afford a splotchy face tomorrow—if I wanted to show up with the team, I had to look my best. I stripped down, tossed my clothes on the floor, and blasted the hot water. This was my cure to avoid puffy eyes or bags. Steamy shower through the tears. I allowed myself to sniff and cry here. The hot water grounded me, and I could focus on the sensations. The water dripping down my back. The way my hair stuck to my face. The cold floor and loud splashes.
Once I settled my heart rate, my mind processed everything.
Audrey didn’t believe I was captain material. My counselor assumed I was dumb. Guys said I was easy. My dad didn’t think I was going anywhere. I might not graduate if I didn’t pass all my classes. I had to decide if I wanted to be a part of the dance team anymore. Thought after thought, emotion after emotion. My shoulders shook as tears flowed out of me. I let them out, damn well knowing when I got out of the shower, I’d go back to being the flirty princess the world wanted me to be.
I scrubbed my hair and face then shaved my legs. The stall next to mine opened and shut, but I didn’t think twice. I’d stripped down so many times from dance competitions that being naked really didn’t get me nervous. Plus, call me vain, but I was proud of my body. I worked hard to be fit.
I finished in the shower but let my face rest under the water for a minute before I turned it off. I wrapped the thin towel around my chest and opened the door just as the person next to me did too. I hesitated for a beat, thinking there was some unwritten bathroom rule to not leave the shower simultaneously. Silence greeted me, so I went first. Maybe they were expecting me to leave first.
Oh shit. They were not waiting for me. Freddie Brady exited the shower next to mine at the same time, and my stomach swooped at all of his bronze skin. Heat radiated from his body, and I struggled to breathe. From the steam, obviously. Because I didn’t get flustered with guys. Attention and flirting were my safe zones, but seeing him standing there, whoa momma.
He was so handsome it knocked the wind out of me. He cleared his throat and reached for the glasses he set on the stall, and when he put them on, they fogged up. It was equally endearing and hot. God, it had been way too long since I was last with someone because my body went into hyperdrive. Thoughts of biting his collarbone and kissing down his pecs to the light dusting of a happy trail crossed my mind, and I might’ve licked my lips.
My god. He’d be the perfect distraction from my life. One night with him, that body. He’d be worth it for a few hours. Mm.
His nostrils flared, and his mouth opened then closed. The air stilled around us, the steam from the shower trapping us in the moment. Freddie swallowed hard, his throat bobbing with the movement before he stepped back. “I’m not… I’m not going to sleep with you, so please don’t eye me like that,” he said softly, his cheeks reddening as he marched away from me.
Well, damn. That was a harsh slap of reality. The familiar tingle of embarrassment swept down my face and neck, my skin flushing at the blatant dismissal. I didn’t even say anything to him. How could this be the guy who flirted with me for hours a year ago? That guy didn’t look at me like I was nothing. That guy listened to me, seemed interested in what I said.
I swallowed down the regret. No one wanted to peek beneath the surface when it came to me. I was never worth the effort. Straightening my shoulders, I kept my head held high. Yeah, sleeping with the guy next door to me wasn’t the best idea. It wasn’t even close to being the worst, but I would follow his lead.
If I couldn’t distract myself with him, I’d find something else to fill the gap in my soul. It was a constant itch that couldn’t be reached, and the idea that I’d never figure out what would make it better scared the fuck out of me. There was only one thing that provided me relief, and that was dance. And with that in limbo…who would I even be if I wasn’t a dancer?
With a resigned sigh, I left the bathroom and went to get ready in my room. The gym we practiced at was next door to the hockey rink, and I figured I could stop by to see my dad before blasting some music and going over the routine I’d planned for years. The one I wouldn’t be able to show the team because I wasn’t named captain.
Fuck. Even my escape was turning into a nightmare.
Wearing spandex shorts and a hot pink sports bra, I adjusted my wet hair into braids and applied mascara and lipstick. The day I didn’t apply mascara was the day I stopped breathing. It was my security blanket. I drew eyes the entire walk toward the studio, and I winked, smiled, and waved at all the lookers. Students thought I couldn’t hear their whispers about the wild twin or she’s down for anything. Another fun fact about me—I allowed people believe that. I never questioned them or told them anything. The world decided to make me out to be this person, and I let them.
I’d had three one-night stands and a handful of casual flings since coming to college. That was it. My bedpost didn’t have a million notches on it, and I didn’t give blowjobs to every guy who breathed my way. The rumors were brutal, and it wasn’t until Naomi told me she thought I’d actually tried to steal guys from her that I realized my reputation hurt people I cared about. I hadn’t intentionally wanted to be that girl, the one who people hated on the inside.
Like her and my dad.
Having that talk with him almost killed me, but I was glad I did. He might be disappointed in me for other reasons, but he knew to ignore the rumors about one of his daughters.
“Hey, Cami girl,” he said, smiling from behind his desk as I walked into his office a short time later. He set his paperwork down and gave me his full attention. Something we’d agreed on because both Naomi and I had leftover anger from how he’d treated our mom before the divorce. “You heading to the studio?”
“In a bit, yeah. Thought I’d say hi.” I plopped down at the chair in front of his desk. “You’ll never believe I’m living in the dorms now.”
“What? How? You saved all year for that new place.” He frowned and leaned onto his forearms. “You can always move back in with me if you need a place.”
“We’ll see how bad it gets, but it’s only for a month or so. Mold issue.” I shrugged, even though I was still very much pissed.
“Don’t love that.”
“You and me both.”
We shared a smile, and the real reason I came here bubbled up. I didn’t talk about my shortcomings often because a) who did? And b) who wanted to? But my soul didn’t know how to function without dance, and Audrey’s choice weighed on me. “I’m not captain.”
He stilled, and his dark brown eyes stared right through me. “What?”
“Audrey said I didn’t exemplify what it meant to be a leader. Daniella did.” I exhaled and waited for the disappointment to show on his face. I focused on a chip on the side of the desk, wondering how it got there instead of looking at him.
“Are you okay?”
Wait—that didn’t sound like disappointment. I glanced at him and saw anger there. On my behalf. Whoa. “Uh, no. I’ve dreamed about this my entire life.” My knee bounced up and down, and my stomach tightened. “I don’t know if I want to do the season.”
He exhaled and leaned back into his chair, the squeak due to his size, not the condition of it, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Cami. I really am.”
“No discussion about how I’m being a shitty team player and how coaches can do what they want and I have to respect it?”
“You’ve made some mistakes, sure, but anyone who understands you like I do would have no doubt that you’re meant to lead. Fuck, look at all the shit you’ve done with that team. If this was high school, I’d have half a mind to go talk to her.”
My chest felt like it had too much air in it, and I blinked a few times to prevent any sort of moisture from pooling in my eyes. “Dad, no.”
“I won’t now, but Cami, I mean this. You get to decide what you wan
t. Not me, not Audrey,” he said, sneering her name, sending a wave of gratitude through me. “She chose wrong. I know that, and you know it. But now it’s up to you. If you can live without dance this year, walk away. But if you can’t… that’s your answer.”
I nodded, already feeling the answer in my gut. I couldn’t not dance. It’d be like asking Naomi to go a week without a spreadsheet or my dad to live without hockey. It couldn’t be done. But that meant taking a backseat which would be the hardest thing. “I’m going to think about it.”
“Good. Do that.” He stood up and walked over to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “I’m proud of you. No matter what you do, I’m proud of who you’re becoming.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said, the ball in my throat doubling in size to the point my voice sounded weird. I cleared it and broke contact. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”
“Sure thing, kid.” He waved me off, and I left, not exactly feeling better about the season, but at least I knew what I had to do.
Stay on the team.
I left his office, content on dancing out the negative feelings. I put my headphones in, and as Taylor Swift rocked my ears, I closed my eyes and bobbed my head a bit. Music had a way of settling me down, and I moved my hips left to right. God, it felt good.
Then, smack. I ran into something very large and very hard. I snapped my eyes open to see Freddie staring down at my fingers on his chest. He reached out to settle me, his massive hands wrapping around my arms as he said, “Hey, you okay?”
I looked up, my heart pounding against my ribcage. He wore a black V-neck and ripped jeans, plus a backwards Central State hat with those damn glasses. He smelled like mint and outside and damn.
From the Top (Central State) Page 3
