Page 21 of Unwrapped
“You think?” Jude asks.
“Yeah, he’ll probably be disoriented, and I’m not in the mood to get punched in the face.”
“I’m curious to hear his dreamland version of what happened.” He nods to the pasta. “Not gonna lie, it’s kinda funny.”
Camille swats his arm. “Don’t make fun of him. He could’ve gotten hurt.”
“I’m not making fun of him, Cami. I just find it comical he’s on the floor in a closet, spooning a canister of spiral noodles, with fucking orzo in his hair. It’s the kind of shit that would only happen to him.”
She smirks. “Good point.”
Jordana gestures to Hudson. “Someone take a picture so we can show him when he wakes. Knowing him, he’ll find it hilarious.” She rubs her hands up and down her bare arms. “It’s freezing in here. I’m going to get him a blanket.” She heads for the living room.
“He probably won’t remember any of this,” I tell Jude.
“You and Sawyer never mentioned him sleepwalking back in school,” Camille says, peering up at him.
“I honestly don’t think he did. I mean,Inever saw or heard anything, but I’ll ask Sully in the morning.”
Jordana returns with a blanket and decorative throw pillow. Her feet crunch on pasta as she shoves the pillow under Hudson’s head and unceremoniously drapes the fleece over him. Exiting the pantry, she addresses Camille and me, “How’d you two get down here so fast?”
Camille’s eyes widen for a moment before she regains her composure. “Oh, um, I was already awake, working on my laptop.” She gestures to me and flushes when I give her a secret smile. “Dean came downstairs for a glass of water. We were chatting when Hudson strolled in.”
Good save.
“Actually, I got up to use the bathroom, but came downstairs to investigate when I smelled coffee. Given the inhumane hour, I figured maybe we had a domestic poltergeist. But lo and behold,someoneis moonlighting as an author. Did anyone else know Camille’s writing a book?”
Jordana rubs her hands together. “Oh my God, you’re finally doing it?”
Camille flushes an even deeper shade of pink. “Yeah, kinda.” Her eyes dart to mine. “But I wasn’t ready to broadcast that yet.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Why not? You should be proud.”
“Well, for starters, I’m anaspiringauthor—not a real author.”
“Nope. None of that negativity.” I pin her with a hard stare. “You’re writing. That makes you an author. Don’t discredit yourself.”
My tone leaves no room for rebuttal, but this is Camille. Naturally, she has another argument.
“Thanks, but it feels too weird saying that when I’m not convinced it’s a done deal. I mean, I have alongway to go before this book is finished.”
“You’ll get it done. I believe in you.” Motioning to our friends, I add, “Wealldo.”
“Dean’s right. We believe in you. Besides, we’re your best friends. We’re supposed to know this kind of shit,” Jordana chides, settling on a stool. “Now that we’ve got that cleared up, tell meeverything.”
Jude squeezes Camille’s shoulder. “I think it’s cool as fuck, Cami. I can’t wait to hear all about your book. But first, coffee.” He crosses the room and pulls a mug from the cabinet. “Anyone else need some?”
“Me please.” Jordana raises her hand. “Light and sweet, thank you.”
“Coming right up. Cami, you need a refill?”
“I’d love one. Thanks.”
“You got it, sugar.”
Tensing, I stare at Jude’s back while he pours coffee for the women. It’s now the second time he’s called Camillesugar, and I don’t like it. She’s mine. Of course, he doesn’t know that yet, but I plan to have a little chat with him later.
“Dean, you want coffee?”
