Camden

There's nothing better than the high of a win. Some are higher stakes, those ones have a whole other buzz to them. But today was a good day and there's nothing better. Except, that winning sentiment is shot to shit as soon as I lay eyes on the girl wearing my jersey to goddamn perfection. Because, fuck me, apparently there is something better than a win.

Mackenzie freaking Cooper ladies and gentlemen. She's casually leaning against the kitchen counter, my jersey draped over her tiny frame and the most adorable braids pulled across her head. She hasn't a clue what her whole look is doing to me right now, how utterly gorgeous she is, and how dangerous this little game we're playing is.

Her eyes bounce up to mine, that cute as fuck smile falling across her face and it has my mind falling straight into the gutter, wanting to taste her again. God kissing her was something else. But to kiss her now...to feel her lips pressed against mine, that small whimper playing into my mouth as I work my tongue along hers...yeah, what I wouldn't give to do that again.

I've thought about it so many freaking times. But I told her no kissing. Because this is all one big show. Fake. It's all fake.

Except for the fact that my heart picks up pace when she's around, or the fact her touch courses through my entire body every time those fingers of hers reach for mine.

If it wasn't for the way she's currently gripping the counter for balance, I might be attempting to break a rule tonight.

I watch as she reaches for a bowl, tossing it to the counter with much more force than is necessary. As she reaches for the handle of the fridge, she misses, swinging her hand a clear two inches short before she's reaching for it again. When she finally gets hold, she pulls out the milk, spinning around and pouring it into her empty bowl.

As much as I'm enjoying watching her fumble around the kitchen, I take a step forward. "Whatcha doin there, Kenze?"

"I'm making cereal," she replies, reaching for a spoon and swirling it around her bowl of milk.

"Uh huh," I acknowledge, stepping closer and placing a hand on hers. "Do you want to add any cereal to your bowl of cereal?"

Her eyes flash down to her bowl before she bursts out laughing. "It's just milk. I'm like a cat."

I take the bowl from her hands, pulling it aside and reaching for her sugar-filled addiction. I pour it in, mixing it within the milk before passing it back to her.

"I think I'd make a great cat," she continues, pulling her bowl closer as I find myself fighting back a laugh.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"I'm fast, I clearly like a good bowl of milk, and I don't prefer to be social." She takes a bite, a small moan floating from her mouth and it takes everything in me not to coax another one out of her, to feel it rattle against my lips. "Yep, I'm totally a cat."

She's totally cute.

"So, how about tonight..." I begin to ask, knowing she went way out of her social comfort zone. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yes," she mumbles behind a mouth full of Fruity Pebbles. "No," she changes direction, whipping her spoon in the air and holding it up to make a point. "I'm not exactly sure yet. Maybe ask me tomorrow."

"You'll have a better answer tomorrow?"

She hesitates, staring at her bowl and falling quiet. "I don't think I feel so good."

"Okay." I leap forward, plucking the spoon from her hand and setting the bowl in the sink. "What do you say we get you to bed, Kenzie-Cat?"

The soft pull of a smile lingers across her lips. "You think I'd be a good cat?"

"You'd be a great cat. Come on, let's go to bed."

"Yeah, bed sounds good."

I scoop her up into my arms and carry her down the hall to her room. Her head falls against my shoulder, the gentle weight resting against me. It's comforting, the way she falls against me, like she trusts me with everything she has. I hold on a bit tighter, bringing her in closer to feel the steady rise and fall of her chest with every breath.

As I enter her room, I slowly make my way to her bed. I do my best to lay her down gently, slowly bringing her down to her mattress.

"Can you please grab my pajamas? I can't breathe in these jeans." Her eyes are closed with her request, her body limp along her mattress.

"Yeah," I whisper, turning to her dresser and staring at the various drawers. I take a guess, reaching for the second one and giving myself a silent high five for guessing right on the first try. I reach for a pair of pants, a small sunflower stitched along the upper thigh. I never knew it was her mom's favorite. It has me wondering how many favorites she has that don't truly belong to her. It's the same way I cling to my mom's books, aching to connect over something.

When I turn around, I find her eyes on me, silently gazing before dropping to the pants in my hand. "Can you help me change?"

I know I shouldn't. I know every single reason why I shouldn't, but she's lying there, the room spinning around her eyes. I step forward, holding the pants out in front of me before ducking down closer to her. "Hold on," I say, wrapping her arms around my neck.

She smells good. The layer of alcohol trying its best to cover the sweet scent of fresh flowers.

I slowly reach for the button to her jeans, keeping careful focus on the wall behind her and offering the most amount of privacy I can in this moment. It doesn't seem to stop the frantic beat in my chest or the subtle shake to my hands as I slide her zipper down.

Once she's comfortably covered, I toss her jeans in the laundry basket beside her closet door and make sure she's safely tucked away in bed.

As I lean forward to pull the blanket over her, her hand catches my cheek, slowly pulling my eyes to hers. "Has anyone ever told you that you have the prettiest eyes?" she whispers, holding my gaze.

There's a jump in my chest, a leap I'm not fully ready for. It's the same one I had sitting beside her on that bench all of those years ago. The first time my heart fluttered in my chest after I lost my parents. I honestly believed it would never truly beat again. But one look from the girl with the twisty braids and I felt myself finally take a breath.

"I don't think anyone has ever used the word pretty," I reply, laughing off the way her eyes are still clinging to mine with her own shade of beautiful, pretending it doesn't set my chest on fire.

"Well," she exhales, her hand still resting against my cheek. She's warm, and soft, so fucking soft. "They are. You're pretty, Cam." Her words rest against a mumbled state, but they still feather across that thing ticking in my chest. The same way they always have.

"You're pretty, too, Kenze." The words slip from my lips, falling into the quiet escape of her room.

Her eyes hold mine before slowly drifting closed, her hand dropping back to her side. "Goodnight, Cam."

I lean forward even when I know I shouldn't and place a kiss along her forehead, lingering for a moment longer.

The quiet buzz in my pocket has me pulling back. I take one more look at Kenzie, my jersey still draped over her tiny frame as her breaths fall out heavily.

I reach for my phone, taking a step out of her room and glancing at the screen. Jared's name is plastered across the top, that flutter in my chest now constricting in tight waves. It's a video call which has all that frantic shit spinning circles.

I turn down the hall, pushing through the guest room before answering, "Hey."

"Hey. I heard you guys kicked ass today."

I smile, plopping down onto the bed and shaking my head. "We did."

"Where are you? Is that my house?"

There's that heavy lump pulling in my throat. "Uh, yeah. My uncle is on a work trip."

"Again? Damn. I'm sorry, man. I thought you'd be out with the team tonight."

"Yeah. I was. But, uh, I figured it was getting late. You know, with your dad not here–"

"My dad isn't home? It's past eleven."

Shit. "Yeah, he's been working a lot lately."

"Fuck. Really?" He pauses to run a tired hand over his face. "How's Mack doing with that?"

"She's good. I mean, she seems to be doing okay, at least."

"Yeah? That's good. Thanks for staying there, man. For keeping your word and looking out for her while I'm not there. I'm sure it's the last place you want to be when you have a whole house to yourself back home. I owe you one."

I don't know why there's a shot of guilt that pierces my chest when he says that, but it's there, slicing through me. "You don't owe me anything."

"Are you kidding? Your uncle gave you the okay to stay at your house when he's away. And you're staying at my house to look after my sister instead because I asked you to keep an eye on her. I definitely owe you."

"You guys are family," I quickly defend. Except it's more than that. So much freaking more and it's that piece that has me completely terrified. "Besides, it's kind of nice not to be alone, you know?"

He nods with that look on his face that says he understands. "Well, I still owe you for looking out for her. I'm just thankful she's got you there."

Yeah, if only he knew the thoughts spinning around my head when it comes to his sister. Like the way my heart seems to beat faster when her hand grazes my arm, or the way her eyes hold mine like I'm something more than just a jock.

"Yeah," I reply with a nod.

When someone shouts something in the background he turns, yelling back before turning to me.

"Sorry, there's a party tonight. A few of my teammates are waiting on me."

"I'll let you go then."

"Yeah. You'll be here next year, though."

"Yeah."

We hang up, and that lingering wave of guilt seems to find a home within my gut. I keep it there, buried down low as I slowly make my way back to Kenzie's room.

I gently open her door and peer in to check on her. Her breaths are quiet but heavy. I can't seem to stop the smile that fills my face as I reach for an extra pillow beside her. I grab the blanket at the end of her bed, laying it along the floor and stretching myself out along the ground. I don't know if she'll be waking up tonight, if the contents of her drink of choice will decide to stay down, but if not, I want to be here.

Maybe it's more than that. Fuck, I know it's more than that. And it's the remnants of more that have my thoughts drifting back to the summer after eighth grade. We were about to start high school, spending one of our last summer days on the beach. Me, Jare, and Kenze.

She had on this bikini...it was red. She was never one to flaunt her beauty or show off just how perfectly toned every inch of her is. But that day, she floated down the beach in the perfectly cut little number and I'm pretty sure I forgot how to breathe.

I let my thoughts drift back to that day.

"Don't even think about it," Jare says, looking my way as we lay across the sand.

"What?" I question.

"What?" he asks, a humorless laugh billowing out between us. "You're checking out my sister. That's what."

"I wasn't–"

"I've seen that look before, man. Don't deny it."

I don't respond. Instead, I stupidly let my gaze fall back to the very girl I was just caught checking out. But she's stunning and I can't seem to stop looking.

"I'm sorry," I admit, both to myself for caving and to my best friend.

He doesn't say anything at first, the quiet falling between us and making me think that maybe it's not the worst thing in the world that I have the hots for my best friend's sister. It could be kind of cool. I mean, we all hang out anyway. What would really change?

"You gotta promise me you shut this down, Camden," he says, bringing my eyes flying to his. "Promise me you won't act on anything."

"Jare–"

"Camden. Listen, don't take this the wrong way. It's not that I don't think you're good enough for my sister. It's just," he pauses, looking back down the beach to watch as Mackenzie dives into a wave. "My sister has been through a lot. If there's even the slightest chance it turns ugly, I don't think she has enough left in her to hold the pieces together..."

His eyes jump back to mine as I digest his words. "How do you know it wouldn't work out?"

"I don't. But if there's even a chance it will fall apart, it means I'd have to choose between the two people who mean the most to me. I don't want to make that choice. I also don't think I could handle watching my sister break again. Not after I saw what losing my mom did to her. Just...promise me you won't go there? Promise me that I'll never have to choose between my best friend and my sister."

That look in his eye, the one pleading to keep things as they are, to not have to lose another thing in his life, hits my chest. I've pined after Mackenzie for years without acting on it. It's why the next words tumble out so easily. "I promise."

I shift along the floor, thinking about that moment with Jare. I promised him I wouldn't go there. I'm pretty sure I've broken that promise already. Fake or not, the feelings swimming laps across my chest are real. Kissing her...yeah, there was nothing fake about the way that lit me up.

But I made him a promise. I think it's about time I keep it.