Chapter Four

Faith

The doorbell rang five minutes early. Cameron was never, ever early.

That wasn’t a good sign.

Faith rushed to finish her mascara as Mom called, “Honey! Cameron’s here!”

Her palms grew damp with sweat, and her stomach turned over. The party was going to be great, sure, but how could she go with him knowing she wanted to end it? Could she tell Cameron she was ready to move on? That she was tired of hearing about football, tired of how his hands always drifted toward her ass when he put an arm around her waist?

She knew she’d been lucky; at least she’d felt that way when he asked her out the first time. That he’d noticed her. She wasn’t a cheerleader or blond or ultra popular. And in the beginning, he’d been almost perfect. Almost. But once he’d gotten comfortable, things had changed.

She wiped her sweaty hands on her denim miniskirt, taking one last glance in the mirror. Her dark hair framed a pale face, making her brown eyes stand out, almost black, and she was trembling. God, he’d know as soon as he saw her that something was wrong.

“Faith?” Mom sounded vaguely worried. “You coming, sweetheart?”

“Be right down!” There, her voice sounded normal, right? To steel herself, she stared at her costume for the ballet scene in Oklahoma! Thinking how she had a lot in common with Laurey steadied her nerves. Laurey stole a wagon from Jud when he tried to paw her, knowing all he saw was a girl to conquer. Not someone to love, to cherish.

That’s what Faith wanted—if she was going to give everything to a guy, he better damn well cherish the heck out of her. He should make her breath hitch when he walked into a room. His smile should warm the air. Make her feel like she was the only being in the universe.

He shouldn’t spend entire dates retelling the story about how he caught the winning touchdown against Allen High junior year.

Taking a deep breath, she flung her bedroom door open and marched down the stairs. The first thing Cameron did was take a good, long look at her, up and down. Maybe she should’ve worn an overcoat instead of the miniskirt, leggings, and striped cardigan over a tank top. Not much skin showed, but he found every last bit of it.

A month ago, two, and that appreciative stare would’ve made her laugh. Tonight, though, it made the hairs on the back of her neck rise, and not in a good way.

What would she give for a guy who could do that—make her shiver…and enjoy it?

Instead, she trudged over to Cameron. He looked like someone you’d find on a poster for one of those high school football dramas. A Friday Night Lights golden boy, from his dirty-blond hair to the navy-and-gold Suttonville High letter jacket he never took off—especially not on a March evening with temperatures in the upper sixties. She’d even seen him wear it in September, when it was a hundred and two degrees and the devil had left the barn door open to hell. Who wore a letter jacket year-round in North Texas? You barely needed a coat in January half the time.

“Um, Faith?” he asked, smiling a little. “You in there?”

She jerked out of her thoughts and forced a smile in return. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

“That’ll get you in trouble.”

Bojangles, her cat, rounded the door into the entry and hissed at Cameron. He hissed back.

Faith frowned. “Quit stirring him up.”

He laughed, cocky and sure. “That cat hates me.”

Well, yeah, Cameron ruffled Bojangles’s fur up the wrong way every time he petted him. Cats hated that. “He’s the alpha. You’re in his space.”

“Fine. I’ll leave the demon-cat alone.” He opened the front door for her. “Bye, Mrs. Gladwell!”

“Back by midnight!” she called from the kitchen.

Luckily Mom didn’t see the brief look of annoyance on his face. He led Faith down to his F-150—bright red—and said, “I swear, she treats you like you’re five. Who has a curfew anymore?”

She slipped into the passenger seat. “I have to be at the studio at nine tomorrow. It’s just her way of reminding me I need some sleep. Teaching a group of wiggly first graders how to plié takes patience, you know.”

He didn’t answer, and they drove in silence out to the Moores’ place. Violet’s house was on the lake, with a huge backyard and a fire pit. Her best friend’s parties were legendary, and they’d both worked so hard to make everything perfect, hanging paper lanterns, dragging out all the coolers, and setting up lawn chairs.

They turned down the oak-lined road near Lake Sutton Estates. The branches swayed in the twilight sky, and the air smelled like spring, green and new. Like an ancient hibernating nymph reborn in a sea of bluebonnets.

“I’d give five bucks to know what you’re thinking.” Cameron’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “You look gorgeous, by the way.”

If she told him she was thinking about bluebonnets, fairies, and being reborn, he’d laugh. “That I love spring.”

“Yeah, me, too.” He reached out and rested his hand on her thigh. “Makes me horny.”

Faith pushed his hand off her leg. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He drove the truck through the gate at the end of Violet’s driveway. Dozens of cars were already parked all over her front yard, except for a spot right by the gate—that one had a sign that read: My bestie parks here. You’ve been warned.

Faith grinned. Violet hadn’t said she was saving them a spot. “That was nice of her, don’t you think?”

“Sure.”

His flat tone made Faith uneasy. “What’s going on?”

“I should ask the same thing.” He got out of the truck without waiting for her.

She clambered out after him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Can you answer the same question?” He stared at a point over her head, but when she didn’t answer, his eyes found hers. They were hard, and a little hurt. “Thought so.”

He took off for the gate. He’d just given her the chance she needed, and she hadn’t dug up the courage to tell him. She couldn’t let him walk away. Not now. “Are you even going to stay here and talk about it?”

“No.” Cameron turned to look at her over his shoulder. “I’m going to get a beer.”

With that, he disappeared through the gate, leaving her alone in the dark. For a minute, she let hurt tears rise in her eyes before getting pissed with herself. If he wanted to run off and have a beer with his friends, whatever. She’d find him before the night was over, tell him she was done, and ask Vi to drive her home later.

She shoved her way through the wrought iron gate, greeted by heavy bass pumping out of the speakers mounted on the patio. People were sprawled out on chairs, or dancing, or slipping away into the dark to hang out by the lake. There was no sign of Cameron—he’d already blended in.

“Dah-ling!” a girl called in a fake British accent. “You look smashing this evening.”

Faith laughed and turned. Violet was teetering on enormous black wedges, wearing a dress that could only be described as flapper chic. Fringe…so much fringe. “Oh my God, your hair!”

“You like?” Violet turned in a circle. Her hair, a shining black pixie cut with purple streaks, shone in the firelight.

“Yeah. I’m just…surprised at how much you cut off. How much did it end up being?”

“A foot,” she said proudly, dropping the Mary Poppins accent. “Donated it all to your mom’s foundation.”

Faith bent to hug her. Even in the platforms, Violet barely reached her collarbone. “I’m so proud of you.”

Violet wagged a finger at her. “You need to tell your mom to send it to a good home.”

“She already found one. It’ll make a wig for a fierce little girl with leukemia. She’s a fighter.”

“Good.” Her friend surveyed the crowd, nose wrinkled. “Where’s jackass? You dump him yet?”

“No…but we had another fight, or something like it, on the way over.” Faith wrapped her arms around her middle. “I need to tell him. I just don’t know how. I’m such a chicken.”

“You aren’t a chicken. You’re worried about how he’ll react. He usually does the dumping, and his ego’s going to take a blow. Just do me a favor and don’t stay with him because you feel bad.” A crash of metal rang out from the lakeshore, followed by an “oh, shit!” and laughter. “Damn it. I should go see what got destroyed. It better not be Dad’s bass boat, or I’m dead.”

Violet hurried into the dark, yelling, “What did you do? What. Did. You. Do?”

Faith shook her head. Whoever it was needed to run while they had a chance, otherwise, the mad pixie of Suttonville would grind them into glitter and use it to decorate her room. Laughing at the thought, she wandered into the kitchen. Trays of snacks covered every surface, and a game of beer pong had started at the table.

“Where’s Cam?” one of the guys at the table asked her. “He should play.”

She shrugged. “Not sure. I just came in.”

“Didn’t he go upstairs?” Skye Jacobs pointed through the kitchen door to the living room. “I thought I saw him.”

Probably to drink and pout alone. “Thanks.”

If he was up there, maybe this was the right time to tell him it was over. Then she could get back to the party with a clear conscience, and help Vi keep the peace so her house would still be standing by dawn.

“Faith? Um…” Skye twisted a strand of strawberry-blond hair around her finger.

She paused in the doorway. “Yes?”

Skye blanched. “It’s…nothing. Never mind.”

Frowning, Faith left the kitchen and headed for the stairs. Had Cameron said something to Skye? Had he been an ass to everyone because he was upset? Or was it something else? At this point, anything was possible. Maybe he was changing into a werewolf and didn’t want anyone to see. It was a full moon tonight, after all.

The living room was empty, but she heard a thump and laughter upstairs. She climbed up slowly, dreading this conversation. How mad would he be? Would he cause a scene, or let her go? Vi was right—he didn’t take well to blows against his ego. She’d seen that during football season every time he fumbled a catch.

All the upstairs doors were closed. Faith stood in the dim hallway staring at them. How awkward was this? What if she went into the wrong one? The last thing she needed tonight was walking in on a hookup.

A male voice rumbled behind the guest bedroom door at the end of the hallway. It sounded like Cameron. And it sounded like he wasn’t alone. What was he up to?

She strode to the door and wrenched it open, then jumped back so fast, she hit the wall behind her. “You…you…”

Cameron looked blearily up at her. Holly Masterson rushed to drag a sheet over herself. Neither one of them was dressed—not at all—and Holly’s blond hair stuck out wildly, like she’d been caught in a wind tunnel.

Anger sparked an inferno in Faith’s chest. “Wow, Holly. You might want to redo your hair before you go downstairs. Then again, Cam always overuses his hands. That’s why he fumbles whatever he catches.”

Cameron’s face turned bright red. He dragged a pillow into his lap and sat up. “As if you’d know. We never made it past second base. I got sick of waiting.”

Disgusted, she turned to go. “Screw you. Or better yet, screw her. We’re done.”

She slammed the door behind her and stomped downstairs, managing to make it to the guest bathroom before she burst out laughing and crying at the same time.