by Lissa Bilyk
“How about this: I’ll give you Juliet.”
Juliet had been his co-star in Wuthering Heights, a devastatingly beautiful Yorkshire woman who for some reason had taken me under her wing during the run, and had been the reason Cameron had noticed me at all.
“Fine,” I said, slapping him playfully. “I’ll have Juliet, my one friend. And you can have everyone else. Just imagine what the wedding would look like: your side full up, and my side with just Juliet.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them. I froze, staring at him. I didn’t want him thinking that I was thinking about marriage, because I wasn’t. I wished I could pull the words out of thin air and stuff them back inside me. He had a habit of making me say and do things I’d never normally consider.
He hadn’t moved, hadn’t even tightened his arms or shown any other indication he’d heard what I’d said. But he’d heard, all right.
“Just imagine,” he said, planting a kiss on my forehead.
A few days later we’d contacted all the people we cared about most and organised a night out at Si’s bar, one of the local Australian-themed pubs. We Skyped Cameron’s parents to fill them in – Cameron had mentioned he was seeing someone but I’d never spoken to them. They were over the moon when they realised I was a fellow Australian. His mother, a brash loud little thing with his eyes and hair colour (but with grey streaks) made a comment about grandchildren in Australia before being shot down by Cameron’s father, a big broad-shouldered man with a thick neck who’d clearly only known a lifetime of hard working. Now that he was retired he’d developed a beer belly. I suspected he shut down Cam’s mother because he thought his son might be skittish about settling down with one girl after years of being on the other side of the world and sleeping his way through half of London.
We hadn’t let our friends know exactly what we were planning; only that it was a night out at a bar. I dressed in my favourite little black dress with the bare shoulders and matched it with red high heels, a red purse and red stay-on lipstick. I spent about an hour doing my makeup and smoothing my hair so that it fell in soft waves around my shoulders. After three months of this shorter look, I’d started to miss the length of my older style blonde hair. I teamed the dress with my favourite black leather jacket and then I was ready to go.
Cameron dressed more casual, wearing low-slung jeans that made his ass look biteable and a buttoned up white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Being early February, it was still cold outside, but we were planning on spending the least amount of time hopping between shelter.
Cameron and I arrived first and greeted Si, the huge bar owner, and the little black-haired sprite who was to serve us tonight, Leah. Cameron seemed nervous and jittery, digging in hands into his pockets and pulling them back out, running his hands through his golden-brown hair. His hair brushed his ears now and had a slight curl to it, and stuck up in every direction when he took a chunk and yanked straight up.
I took him in my arms for a private moment before the others arrived and smoothed his hair down. “Don’t be nervous.”
“Nervous?” He laughed. “Who said I’m nervous?”
“Oh I know, the great Cameron Campbell doesn’t get nervous.” I kissed him anyway, then checked for any lipstick transfer. There was none – I’d have to remember this brand and buy it again.
Moments after we disengaged Juliet arrived in a flurry of pink and glitter, her party dress a sparkly, spangly, slinky thing with a huge slit up one leg, and her hair curled artfully reminiscent of 1920s screen sirens. It simply screamed ‘West End star,’ and I looked down at my black dress, feeling dowdy in comparison. Even the stomach-sucking compression pants I wore under the dress to smooth my figure didn’t hide my fat.
Juliet embraced me in her bubbly enthusiasm and then looked from Cameron to myself for a moment, standing as we were next to each other.
“No way!” she shrieked, and threw her arms around both of us. “Is this what I think it is?”
“You knew all along!” I accused her.
“But now you’re coming out. Do the paparazzi know?” She turned her big blue eyes on Cameron.
“Not yet, but my publicist has a plan.”
“Wonderful!” Then she scampered to the bar and introduced herself to Si and Leah.
Within half an hour the pub was full of people Cameron knew and cared about. I didn’t recognise anyone from Wuthering Heights, though I did recognise some people from locally produced TV shows and films. I hung in the background as Cameron efficiently mingled with the guests. Every time I thought of approaching someone to strike up a conversation I got heart palpitations and had to sit down. I just simply wasn’t an extrovert, and the whole ordeal made me anxious.
Juliet took pity on me and sat with me for a while before trying to engage me in conversation with other people. She tucked her arm over mine and led me from group to group, introducing me as her own friend. I might have been star-struck from the other famous people there if it weren’t for the fact that I’d seen Cameron Campbell naked and done naughty things to him. Being intimate with someone like that – a celebrity whom I’d had a crush on for many years –made it harder to be in awe of other famous people. They were just regular people, anyway, with glamorous looks to match their glamorous jobs.
After we turned about the room, Cameron found me and took me off Juliet. He stepped up onto a small stepladder Si brought for him and tapped a teaspoon against an empty glass. The room fell silent. He broke out his trademark white smile, which lit up the entire room and made me swoon, even still.
“Hi guys, thanks for coming down tonight, especially since it’s still snowy in parts of London. I know some of you are wondering why I asked you all to come out tonight, and the fact of the matter is that I – we,” he corrected himself, smiling down at me and squeezing my shoulder, “have an announcement to make.”
“Oh, my god,” someone close to me muttered.
“The paparazzi have been following me ever since Wuthering Heights, wondering why I’m not up to my old tricks again. I know you know what I mean – I’ve never hidden the fact that I love women, sometimes a little too much.” The crowd laughed at this, and I blushed, looking away. “But during Wuthering Heights, I met an amazing woman who made me realise that wasn’t what I wanted anymore. That woman is Victoria Walker, and she’s the woman I’m in love with.”
Some people in the crowd gasped and I blushed deeper.
“She’s the woman I’m going to marry, if she’ll have me.”
Chapter Four
I looked up in terror. Cameron smiled down at me, oblivious to my panicky expression. Did he just propose to me in front of dozens of people – dozens of strangers?
Cameron stepped down from the ladder and took my hand. Before he could get on one knee I grasped his shirt and shook my head.
“Don’t, don’t,” I pleaded. “Not here, not like this.
His expression turned questioning for one moment, before he took me in his arms and bent me over backwards to dip kiss me in front of everyone. I felt giddy, falling back in his arms like a dancer, but his kiss soothed me, set my fluttering pulse steady. By the time he helped me back up again I was calm, if a little flushed at our first public display of affection.
A gang of gentlemen stepped forward to congratulate Cameron, beating him on the back or shaking his hand. A flurry of girls descended on me to embrace me or kiss my cheek, trilling about how lucky I was. I wondered how many of them he’d slept with, how many were speaking from personal experience. I outweighed every woman in there by at least twenty kilograms, and towered over most of them. They were like Hayley and Juliet – petite little things that had probably reached full height by the time they were eight and simply stopped growing.
“We didn’t just get engaged,” I insisted to anyone who would listen. “That wasn’t a proposal.”
Flustered, I excused myself to the ladies room and splashed cold water on my face. My hands were still shaking. I couldn
’t deal with this many people pressing in, demanding my attention. Cameron revelled in it, but I was much shyer than him. I cracked open the bathroom door and peeked out. He laughed and joked with his friends, accepting congratulatory hugs from a gaggle of women, all big hair and high shoes and tight dresses.
I shut the door and leaned my back against it. This was a terrible idea – I wasn’t an exhibitionist. I was surrounded by strangers and my one rock, my one anchor was the centre of their attention, taking him away from me.
I closed a stall door, sat down on the toilet lid, and cried, overwhelmed.
By the time I had finished, splashed more cold water on my face, double checked my make-up and straightened my hair and dress, the door to the loos opened. Juliet stood there in her sparkly pink dress, Hollywood glamour oozing from every pore.
“I thought you might be in here, babes,” she said. “People are missing you. Cameron asked me to find you.”
“He didn’t propose,” I said as she took my hand and led me back out into the stale, warm air of the pub.
“I know, pet. Give him time.”
“I didn’t want him to.”
She looked at me in shock. “You don’t want him to propose? What is wrong with you?”
“Not here, not now: not in front of all these people, most of whom I don’t even know. There would be so much pressure on me. I don’t do well in crowds.”
“Pressure for what? Of course you’d say yes. I’ve seen you two together: you’re made for each other.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But who’s to say I’m ready for that? He doesn’t know for sure I’d say yes.”
She patted my hand. “Stop overthinking it. You’ll do yourself a nuisance. Come and have a drink and calm your nerves.”
She led me to the bar where she ordered herself a brandy and me a vodka and orange, my bar staple. I didn’t much like alcohol and often chose not to drink it: when I did I would rather it was as innocuous as possible.
Around the corner from the bar I made out Cameron with another man, their voices rising in what seemed to be agitation. The area around me cleared as a noisy bunch of people moved off with their drinks, and then I could hear what the boys were saying.
They were talking about me.
I dropped my head to listen more intently.
The blonde man said, “Why are you wasting your time on that bird, Cam? There are a hundred girls out there just waiting to drop their knickers for you.”
“I don’t want other girls,” Cameron said calmly, but with tension in his voice. “I want Tori.”
“But what do you see in her?”
“There’s more to falling in love with a person than their looks, you know. I seem to recall you’re not married, either.”
“Living it up in London,” the man agreed. “Why don’t you hook up with that hottie personal trainer of yours? She’s well fit.”
“It’s a business relationship,” Cameron said, and I heard the clink of him putting his glass down on the bar, hard. “I pay her. I’m not going to sleep with her.”
“I’m sure I could set you up with a dozen girls. Give me three days.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Cameron lean in, although his voice didn’t drop. “What about this do you not understand? I love Tori. She’s beautiful, inside and out. She’s a wonderful person, and she makes me happy.”
Juliet said something to me as I slipped off the bar stool and walked around the corner, but I ignored her.
“Just let me give you some phone numbers, you can try a few out-” the blonde was saying as I approached him. I squared my shoulders, set my jaw, and stepped between the two men.
“Have a problem with fat girls, arsehole?” I said.
He reared back, affronted. Cameron’s hands went around my waist – whether he was supporting me or preparing to hold me back from decking the guy, I didn’t know. My face was flushed hot from anger and I felt my right hand jump. It took all my willpower to force it back down, to not wallop the idiot in front of me.
“Well?” I demanded.
The guy looked down into his drink, muttered an apology, and slipped away. I felt Cameron curl his arms around me.
“How much of that did you hear?” he murmured in my ear.
“Enough,” I said. “I can’t believe your own friends would just go on like that.”
“Pete’s having a hard time adjusting to the change in my behaviour. I think he thinks it means I’ve grown up and left him behind.”
I turned around. “Let’s get out of here, Cam,” I begged. “I can’t stand being around this many people and not knowing any of them. Just take me home. Please?”
He looked deep into my eyes, and planted a kiss on my forehead. “Okay princess, we’ll go home. Just let me say goodbye, okay?”
I waited by the bar as he mingled again to say goodbye, and then we were out of there, out of the hot pub and into the frigid night air.
Back at Cam’s apartment I stood shivering from the cold that had seeped into my bones. I thought again about all the girls Cameron had slept with before me, and wondered what made me different, what made me the one he wanted to slow down with? It couldn’t have been because I was particularly good in bed; I’d basically, practically, but not technically been a virgin when I’d consented to sleep with him. I’d had so many issues of my own to work through that I hadn’t stopped to think about his.
“Cam?” I called into the darkness. He responded from the bedroom. I trailed in, watched him tidily pack away his jacket and shirt, his workout clothes already waiting on the bed. I always got a thrill seeing his naked skin – I know it was childish, but sometimes I had to pinch myself because I could touch him whenever I wanted, slide my fingers over that golden skin, trace the tribal tattoos inked on his chest and back and biceps.
“What’s up, gorgeous girl?” he said, looking up at me, still dressed in my boots, dress and jacket.
“I was wondering if you could answer a question.”
“Always.”
“About before you met me.”
“Oh.” He hesitated. “I don’t like to think about the type of person I was back then.”
“But I want to know – why me? What makes me different to all those girls you’ve been with? What is it about me that makes you want to slow down and… have safe, vanilla sex the rest of your life?”
“It’s not the sex,” he said, coming over to me and sliding his warm arms under my jacket and around me. “Although the sex is awesome, the best I’ve ever had. Wanna know why?”
I nodded.
“Because we have a connection, in here.” He tapped his heart with two fingers, and then placed his hand over my own. “Tori, I don’t know what it is about you. Yes, you’re different to the girls who throw themselves at me, but you still fancied the fuck out of me back then. It wasn’t so hard to convince you to come to bed.”
“I’m serious.” I pouted, running my hands over his shoulders.
He gave me a small smile. “I decided to turn my life around just before I met you. I didn’t have any grand notions that the next girl I met would be ‘the one.’ But you’re funny, and smart, and deep, and witty, and beautiful, and you make me want to try my best and be a better person.”
“I’m none of those things,” I argued, thinking how serious I was, how plain.
“I can’t say what it is exactly about you, Tori. Any other girl with your personality, or body, I wouldn’t feel this attraction to at all. It’s magnetic: you’re irresistible to me, the entire package of you. Everything about you drives me wild.”
“Wild?” I repeated. “But you’re always so gentle. Calm and composed.”
“I’ve been holding back. I don’t want to scare you off.”
I slid my hands onto his biceps. “I’ve been sleeping with you for three month. I’m not that easily scared anymore, Cameron Campbell.”
Chapter Five
His eyes lit up with desire at my subtle invitation. “Are you… T
ori, are you sure?”
“I’m your girlfriend,” I said. “If you can’t be yourself around me, especially in the bedroom, then you’re lying to yourself, and you’re lying to me. The way that I’ve been lying to myself.”
His eyes hooded and his arms tightened around me, his trademark sexy growl building in his chest. I shimmied out of my jacket and let it fall to the floor, then sank to my knees in front of him. Surprised, he let me go. I unzipped his fly and button to his jeans and pulled them down, building anticipation.
“Tori…” he said. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” I replied, freeing his rock-hard cock from its cloth prison. I stared at it for only the briefest of moments, wondering exactly how I was supposed to do this. Then, steeling my courage, I parted my lips and sucked him into my mouth.
He let out a rough groan and his fists balled by his sides. I ran my tongue over his cock and sucked him the way I supposed it might feel good. Maybe I should have watched a video first, I thought. I wrapped my hand around his thick shaft and pumped it, hoping it added sensation. His knees wobbled as I ran the tip of my tongue over the head and slid my lips over him once more.
The leather from my boots protected my knees from the brunt of the floor, but it was uncomfortable even so. I wondered how long I was supposed to go for – until he came? Did he want me to suck him until he came in my mouth? And then what would I do – would I spit it out or swallow it? What if I didn’t like the taste and gagged, or even worse, vomited?
Cameron ran his fingers through my hair and started rocking my head back and forth in time to my work. In panic I stopped sucking and looked up at him. His face had an attractive pink flush over his cheeks and his eyes were closed. They opened in surprise.
“Do you want to stop?” he asked, breathless.
“Stop being so considerate,” I scolded. “Just use me. However you want. Anything.”
Before I could take him back into my mouth he’d scooped me up and flung me on the bed, and shimmied out of his jeans and shorts. Naked before me, he bent to remove my boots, then slid his hands up under my dress to slide down my panties.
