Page 75 of Wrecked
No. I internally shake my head.Jealous. That's what she is. I've known women similar to her in the past. She'll say anything to stir shit up. I can't let her get to me, even if what she said is still replaying in my mind.
Having heard enough, I don't reply but instead continue walking away in the direction she indicated, trying to get as much distance between us as possible while hoping she's not sending me in the wrong direction.
Pulling out my phone after a few more minutes, I dial Cam's number instead of spending forever trying to find him. It rings in my ear, but it's the ringing from nearby that I tune in to, moving in the direction until I spot him sitting against a wall, wearing the same ripped jeans and hoodie as earlier, reaching for his phone. I hang up and make my way over to him, gasping when I see his face.
“Cam.” I crouch down in front of him, cupping his cheeks in my hands. “Are you okay?”
I scan over his bloody face, from the cut above his eyebrow to the bruised cheek and then to his puffy split lip. His bloodshot eyes meet mine, and despite the rough appearance of his face, tenderness takes over his features as he gazes at me.
The urge to take him home and look after him pulls at me like an invisible force.
“Jaz, I'm so fucking sorry for what I said earlier. You're so great and so pretty, and I don't deserve you, and I had a shitty day and–”
“Hey, it's okay,” I say, cutting him off and letting out a breathy chuckle that's more relief than anything. “Tell me what happened here.”
He shifts and then grimaces, reaching a hand to his ribs. “I was talking to Reese and a few other guys after the race. Then Jones, the one I went up against, and his crew came over talking shit and saying that it was rigged and that I cheated and all this shit. Next thing I know, fists were flying everywhere, and about twenty people were involved.”
I can only imagine what a big brawl might have been like here. It wouldn't surprise me if someone were to pull a knife or gun out at a place like this, so I'm grateful that something like that didn't happen to him.
Just thinking about it brings a wave of chills washing over me.
I lift his hoodie and shirt to check his ribs and then run my hands all over, checking for other injuries. It doesn't feel like anything is broken, but his ribs are definitely bruised.
“Where are they all now?” I ask, still assessing him.
“Don't worry. They're all gone now.” Then, with his lips tipped into a boyish smirk, he adds, “I like it when you touch me.”
My eyes clash with his, and I give him a disbelieving smile in return while shaking my head. He's sitting on the ground with blood all over his face after a big fight and still manages to say something that makes my insides tingle. I'm sure the alcohol he's consumed has something to do with it.
A second later, he lifts his hand as if to stroke my cheek but then pauses with it about an inch away from my face and stares at it. I grab hold of his wrist and pull it in front of me to see what he's looking at, finding his knuckles busted and covered in blood as well.
I shake my head again. “Come on. Let's get out of here and get you cleaned up.”
I push to my feet while he drags himself up the wall, then as soon as he's standing, he pulls me in for a hug, holding me close to his body as he leans against the bricks. His unique scent, mixed with his cologne, fills my nose, and I breathe him in. It has a soothing effect on me, even with the slight coppery tinge of blood added to it this time. I stay plastered to him, soaking in his warmth and basking in the comfort his arms give me. His hugs are like being wrapped in a warm blanket.
“I need you, Jaz,” he murmurs against my head. “Everything is better when I'm with you.” Then, after another beat. “You're always there for me, and I want to be there for you, too. Iwillbe there for you whenever you need me.”
I close my eyes, tightening my hold on him as his words wrap around my heart, and I let out a sigh.
None of our surroundings exist.
None of the words he said earlier exist.
It's just us here and now.
Moments later, his big, warm hands slide a path down my back, settling on my ass which I've learned is one of his favorite assets of mine. He kneads my cheeks a couple of times before gripping my hips to push me back and look down. “What the hell are you wearing?”
I play with the threads of fabric that tickle my upper thigh. I realize the decision to wear these little denim shorts, along with a tight tank top, probably wasn't the best one. “I was sort of trying to fit in here. After what you said earlier, I guess I thought if I dressed similar to these people while here, you wouldn't think I thought anything less of you for being a part of it.” I lift my shoulders with a shrug. “I don't know.” It seems really silly now and perhaps maybe even a little dangerous.
“No, no, no, Jaz. You don't fit in here, but I don'twantyou to. Fuck, I'm an asshole. I didn't mean to make you feel that way.” Running a hand through his hair, he frowns down at my legs. “Besides, these perfect legs aremine.” His eyes flicker around the area, and I can't help but chuckle as he makes a drunken attempt at covering my thighs.
I pull at his arms to stand up again, a laugh still tickling my throat. “Will you stop that?”
With furrowed brows, he stands to his full height and whips off his hoodie, sliding it over my head before draping an arm across my shoulders. “Fine, but we need to go now.”
“What about your car?” I ask as we begin walking.
Cam's weight on me slowly increases with each step, and it takes a bit of effort to keep us both upright. I kind of want to laugh at the whole situation, possibly following it up with a little cry since I went from thinking we may be over to this.
