Plus, let’s face it: as far as leagues go, he was way out of mine. I basically had two options. Either I could forget about Cam and focus on more attainable goals or start praying that the universe would be kind. That Cam would wake up tomorrow realizing he preferred moderately cute, sassy, basketball players to beautiful, curvy cheerleaders. I think my Magic 8 Ball might tell me my outlook was not so good.
I’ve told Beth my theory, and she thinks I’m nuts. She says I’m being insecure for no good reason. That’s because Beth has never had a sister like Beth. She’s always pumping me for information on who I like, but my lips are sealed tighter than Fort Knox. Sometimes I wish I could tell her, and I know it frustrates her to no end. Maybe even hurts her feelings a little. But, so far the strategy has worked for me. Cam has never asked Beth out, and I haven’t had my heart broken by him yet. It is making my plan to become Mrs. Cameron Bates and have beautiful basketball-playing babies slightly more difficult. I’ll figure out how to get around that one eventually.
The conversation at the lunch table had digressed to whose butt was the cutest and who was most likely the best kisser. None of us actually dated guys from the basketball team. Not since Madison and Caleb broke up last year. In Madison’s mind, Caleb being a jerk translated to the whole boys team being jerks. If we dated any of them, we were siding against Madison. Since she was team captain and she was also kind of a witch, we felt it best to stay on her good side. Not that any of the boys team were beating down our doors looking for dates. The no-dating rule didn’t stop us from ogling and gossiping about them, though.
Madison spoke up, sounding highly agitated. “Am I the only one who thinks that the boys team is a bunch of immature meatheads?” Nine heads whipped in her direction and simultaneously nodded yes. Poor Madison. Spending ten weeks of conditioning on the court and in the weight room with the boys was going to be torture for her. That would probably make her torture us. On the bright side, I could watch shirtless Cam flex his muscles the whole time I was being tortured. That’d definitely make it more bearable.
. . . . .
CAMERON
I sat at the lunch table, trying to split my attention between the milk chugging contest and the girls basketball team. At least half of those girls wanted to go out with me, and if I got caught staring, I’d have given them all the wrong impression. There was only one girl I wanted to stare at: Bianca Barnes. I’d been hung up on her since the day we met. It was love at first shot.
I was sitting on my new front lawn when she wandered out of her house and into the driveway of my next-door neighbor. I kept my head down because I didn’t want her to notice I was checking her out. She looked about my age and was smoking hot. Not to mention, she was carrying a basketball. I’d made a mental note to thank my parents for buying this particular house.
I kept my earbuds in so I’d look busy but turned the music all the way down so I could hear if she decided to talk to me. No way was I going to approach her. Only idiots talked to girls first. The biggest question on my mind was, could she actually shoot the basketball? Lots of girls pretended to be into the sport so they had a reason to talk to me. But this girl didn’t know I played. Either she actually liked basketball or she thought it’d be a good excuse to check me out.
Bebe didn’t just like to play, she was good. In five minutes of shooting, she’d only missed one shot. She kept sneaking peeks at me but never stopped to strike up a conversation. I was worried I’d have to break guy code and go talk to her. Then it happened.
I watched her glance at me and then launch the ball really hard at the backboard. Her placement guaranteed that she’d miss the shot and the ball came flying at me. I only had about a second to decide if I was going to duck or let it hit me. If I ducked, I’d be admitting that I’d seen the ball coming, and she’d know that I was watching her. If I didn’t duck, I was going to get hit, probably in the head. I decided to brace myself for impact, and the rest is history. Ever since that day, I’ve vowed to make Bebe my girlfriend.
Unfortunately, that’s proven harder than I thought it would be. We’ve become really good friends. It’s cool, except I think I’ve been friend zoned. That’s never happened to me before. I can’t figure out what’s wrong. I’m a good-looking guy: six-two, muscular, athletic. I’ve got dimples, which usually drives girls crazy. But, no matter what I do, Bianca seems to be immune to my good looks.
I’ve tried everything: teasing her, picking on her, poking her, pulling her ponytail, trash talking when we play basketball. She just keeps her cool and dishes my crap right back at me. Last year I started flirting with tons of other girls when she was around. I figured if she wasn’t persuaded by my shenanigans, maybe I could make her jealous. If she cares that I flirt with anything that walks, she doesn’t show it.
“Hey, Cam. Who you starin’ at? Someone on the girls team catch your eye?” Caleb asked, and I shook my head. I’d zoned out for a minute.
“Yeah, man, all of them,” I lied. “Just trying to figure out which lucky lady should get my attention this year.”
Brady piped up. “Bianca’s looking pretty hot today. There’s nothing sexier than a girl who could probably beat my ass on the court.”
“She’s got nice legs, but her boobs are too small,” Mike said. I reached over and slapped him across the back of the head. Mike was a dumbass.
“Watch it,” I warned.
“What the hell, Cam. I wasn’t hatin’. I’d still tap that.” Mike was freaking clueless. What part of watch it was unclear? I leveled him with a hard stare.
“That’s my best friend you’re talking about. If you want the use of your legs, you’ll think twice before talking about her boobs again. Same thing goes for the rest of you losers.” My eyes scanned the table. If anyone else admitted to thinking about Bebe’s body parts, there’d be hell to pay.
I turned my eyes back to Bebe. I was getting desperate. I could probably get 90 percent of the girls in school, and I was fixated on the one who didn’t want me. All summer long, I’d wondered how I could switch up my game and get out of the friend zone. My new plan had two parts. First, get in good with Bethany. Bianca and her sister were best friends. If I didn’t have Beth’s approval, I’d never win Bebe over. So I started spending a little more time with Beth, being super sweet. It wasn’t a difficult task; Beth was beautiful and popular. I genuinely liked being her friend. But a girl like Bethany could never be enough for me. I needed someone who challenged me. I needed Bianca.
The second part of my plan was a little riskier. Up until this year, all of my tactics had been covert. That way I didn’t look like a desperate douche if she wasn’t into me. But maybe I’d been sending the wrong signals or being too subtle. It’s not like Bebe was naive or prudish. She went out with guys. I know for a fact that she’s kissed at least a couple.
The day Ben Rogers came into the locker room bragging that he got to second base with her was almost the last day of Ben’s pathetic life. I was fuming mad. Luckily, I knew that Ben was a lying sack of crap. After school, I confronted Bebe and she laughed, saying he was lucky he got a goodnight kiss. I still wasn’t thrilled, but the info kept Ben’s face intact and kept me out of juvie.
Like I said, Bebe isn’t naive or prudish; she’s just not like other girls. This meant one of two things. Either she wasn’t into me, which would completely suck, or she’s totally oblivious and has no clue how I feel. I’m hoping for the latter, hence part two of my Make Bebe Fall Madly in Love with Me Plan.
I needed to be more obvious; flirt with her the way I flirt with all the other girls. I’d tested the waters this week. She didn’t slap my face or throw up on my shoes, but she wasn’t exactly eating out of my hand, either. On Monday, I got right up in her face, inches from those perfectly kissable lips. For a second, I thought I’d broken through her shell. But it only lasted a moment and she was back to regular old Bebe, sucking the life out of my ego.
The table of girls was watching us. Giggling and whispering, they
were probably trying to decide who had the cutest butt. Bianca was staring, dreamy-eyed. Who the hell could she be looking at? I waved to catch her attention but failed. I guess I’m not the one on her mind. Which means… Hold up. Was she daydreaming about one of the knob heads on the basketball team?
No way she could be interested in one of these losers. What the freak? I was trying to figure out who she was staring at, when Bebe caught me watching her and stuck her tongue out at me. I was momentarily stunned, reality sinking in. Bianca Barnes, my Bebe, liked someone on my team. And it wasn’t me.
I didn’t know how much longer I could handle being just friends. I kept telling myself that I wasn’t acting on my obsession because of my stupid guy code. But in reality, I was worried that I might be rejected. And for the first time in my life it actually mattered if I was. Bebe was one of my best friends. I’d be destroyed if I told her how I felt but she didn’t feel the same. Our friendship would be destroyed, too. I might even lose my friendship with Beth. She wasn’t shallow enough to cut me out of her life completely, but things probably wouldn’t be the same.
It was time for Cameron Bates to bring his A game. It might have been too soon to tell Bebe I loved her, but maybe I could take her on a date. Of course, I couldn’t call it a date. That’d freak her out. Besides, I wasn’t sure she was even interested in being more than friends. But if I could get her alone and do something date like, it’d be a good practice run. Flirt up a storm and see how she responded. Maybe, if things went well, my test date would lead to a real one.
BIANCA
Sixth period chemistry, my least favorite subject but still my favorite class of the day. The class where I got Cam all to myself. Well, not all to myself. Brady Jones and Mike McGinnes, two of Cam’s basketball buddies, were partnered at the table next to us. But amazingly, we were free from any of Cam’s usual groupies. A whole fifty minutes without some ditzy bubblehead pushing her bum or thrusting her bosom his direction. For the next semester, in sixth period, it was just us.
“Yo, Bea baby, what’s up? You’re looking extra fly today.” Mike was leaning on the table, head resting in his hand, licking his lips at me. All he needed was a wife beater and he could’ve doubled in an Eminem video. The guy had dumbbells for brains. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he missed the memo saying it was no longer cool for skinny white kids to pretend like they were thugs.
I rolled my eyes. “You know, Mike, you should be less worried about how fly I look and more worried about looking at your fly.” I nodded my chin up but pointed my lips down toward his pants. His zipper was fine, but the momentary look of panic on his face was priceless. I laughed, then winked at Brady, who was stifling his laughter behind a fake cough. Cam was roaring and practically rolling on the floor. Boys were so easy to amuse.
When Brady was done “not laughing,” he looked at me and smiled. “Thanks, Bea; that was the best part of my day.”
“Glad I could entertain you.”
“Keep ’em coming and maybe I’ll stay awake in class this semester.” Brady patted me on the back, then headed over to his seat. Mike followed, licking his wounds as he went.
Mike might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but Brady was pretty cool. He was funny, nice, cute, and, unlike Mike, Brady had actual brains for brains. He was tall and lean and had an amazing complexion. He had to have been at least half something nonwhite, because his complexion was darker than just tan. More of a creamy coffee color, with big chocolate eyes. It was hard to guess his heritage with a last name like Jones. I’d ask him, but I was always worried about offending someone with a question like that.
Whatever his ethnicity, it made his amazing smile really stand out. He had the whitest, straightest teeth I’d ever seen. He could’ve been a toothpaste model. I bet his parents paid a fortune for his mouth. I didn’t know him very well, but maybe it was time to start branching out. I couldn’t live in Cameron fantasyland for the rest of my high school career. Especially if I wanted to have a social life.
Homecoming was early this year, toward the end of September. Less than a month away. Beth would have at least a few guys who asked her to the dance, and Cam would get multiple invites. Unless I wanted to play third wheel to my sister—or worse, third wheel to the guy I liked—I better start making myself more available.
I’d never asked a boy out, though I’d had a few that were brave enough to ask me. I’d even made out with a few guys. I’d never been serious with anyone, though, because I was too busy pining for Cam. I’m pretty sure Cam wasn’t saving himself for me, because he went on lots of dates and kissed lots of girls. He never asked anyone out, either, and when I questioned why, he spouted off some misogynist bull crap about a guy code. How chasing a girl would make him look desperate and let the girl think she was in charge.
I told him he was an idiot, but that just made me a big, fat hypocrite. I had a code of my own. One that prevented me from asking any boy out, much less Cam. Asking a boy out would be admitting to the universe who I liked. And, in turn, the universe would send Cupid’s arrow, stamped with Beth’s name, straight through that boy’s heart.
Nope, no way. I couldn’t ask anyone to the homecoming dance, so I needed to catch someone’s attention long enough for him to ask me. It could be any guy, as long as he was cute and cool. I didn’t need a boyfriend. Just someone to keep me from joining all the losers in stagville.
“What’s going on in there?” Cam was snapping his fingers in front of my face. “You’ve been spacing out a lot this week.”
“Sorry, just thinking.”
“Thinking about what? Your devilishly handsome lab partner?”
As if I would admit that. “OMG!” I squealed, doing my best groupie impression. “Do you have ESPN? How did you know? Are you like, psychic or something?”
“Well, you did have a dreamy look on your face. I’m pretty sure if you looked up my name in the dictionary, dreamy would be the definition. It’s only natural that I assumed you were thinking about me.”
Cam reached up and tapped the tip of my nose with his finger. He looked me in the eyes, forcing me to hold his gaze. His finger slid slowly off my nose and down to my lips. He tapped those, too, then left his finger pressed against them. I opened my mouth to deliver a witty retort, but he shushed me. “Shhhhhh, it’s ok, Bebe. I leave most girls speechless. Give in to the power of my charms.”
Ok, I’ll give in…swoon. No. Bebe, stop being weak. You can do this.
“I don’t think so, Romeo.” I managed to pull his hand from my face even though my brain was protesting. “You know your Don Juan routine doesn’t work on me.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. “And I hope you washed your hands recently, since you decided to rub your finger all over my face.” I was never washing my face again.
Somewhere in the room, our teacher cleared his throat. “Ahem… Do I have to separate you two already? It’s only been a week. I think that’d be a new record.”
“Sorry, Mr. Gardner.” Cam was quick to apologize. “I can’t find my pen, so I was asking Bianca if I could borrow one of hers.” Cam reached across me to grab the pen I was holding. His hand lingered on mine a bit longer than necessary before snatching the pen away. Then he grabbed the pen out of my ponytail and reached all the way around my back to put it in my right hand. What was that all about? He could’ve just taken the pen from my hair and avoided the extra touching. Not that I minded the touching. I probably didn’t mind it a little too much.
Mr. Gardner dimmed the lights and started clicking through his PowerPoint presentation on the periodic table of elements. This was a very good thing since I was blushing again. It was also a bad thing, because I needed to pay attention, but my mind was racing. I was thinking about chemistry, all right, just not the kind of chemistry that Mr. Gardner was teaching us.
Eventually, I was able to focus, even though Cam was sprawled out with his knee touching mine through most of the lecture. Right as the teacher was finishing up, Cam leaned over and wh
ispered in my ear, “Are we still on for the football game tonight?”
I answered quietly without turning to look at him. “Absolutely; we can’t miss the game. Angelica promised to show you her undies…I mean, her back flip.”
Cam chuckled softly, sending tingles down my neck as he whispered in my ear once again. “Cool, I’ll be over to your place by six.”
Good. That’d give me enough time to blow off some steam on the Perkinses’ driveway before showering. Heaven forbid Cam continued whispering in my ear all night. I was all hot and bothered after two stupid questions. It was going to take me the rest of the afternoon to calm down enough that I could interact rationally. On second thought, maybe I should skip playing basketball and go straight to the shower. A long, cold shower.
. . . . .
I stood in front of the mirror, assessing my reflection. Not too shabby. I didn’t look hot, but I wasn’t trying to. Girls that dressed trashy and wore tons of makeup were working too hard. I was safely in the cute zone tonight. Corduroy shorts and a cute baby-doll style shirt, the customary flip-flops on my feet. I’d gone with my normal light makeup look but switched up my usual hair style, opting for two long French braids, one down each side of my head. I was about to head out of the bathroom, when my dad called up to me.
“Bianca, sweetheart. Cam’s here.”
“Tell him I’ll be right down; I need to grab my purse.”
I hated carrying a purse. But the cheer squad had to be at the field early, so Beth had already left with some friends. Which meant that I finally got to drive my car. Since my pants didn’t have pockets, it also meant I needed something to put my phone and keys in. Maybe I could get Cam to carry the purse around for me? He probably would if I asked him to, since he loves attention. Toting my cute pink purse around all night would guarantee he got a lot of looks. The boy had no shame. I grabbed my purse, tucked in some lip gloss, then headed down the stairs.
Perfectly Oblivious (The Perfect Series Book 1) Page 3
