Page 24 of Unwrapped
Ihad every intention of going skiing. I really did. Until I saw the desire in Camille’s eyes earlier. Aching for a chance to be alone with her, I told my friends I hurt my back shoveling and needed to skip the slopes. Now I’m lounging on my bed—squeaky clean from the day’s second shower—catching up on emails while I wait for them to leave.
I can’t get Camille out of my head. While I feel guilty for lying to my friends, I couldn’t miss an opportunity to make up for lost time with her. Hopefully, she has something similar in mind. My dick twitches again, all too willing to bring the fantasy to life, but it goes beyond my inner horndog. I need to repair our bond. Camille needs to know how deeply I care. I’m still reeling from learning how much my distance hurt her.
A knock reaches my ears, making me launch myself off the bed. I yank the door open, hoping to see Camille, but it’s Hudson.
“Hey, man. What’s up?”
He sighs. “Can you please do something about my finger? It’s bleeding through the bandage.”
Of course it is. The idiot insisted on helping us shovel instead of staying in like I advised.
“Pretty sure we told you we’d handle the driveway.”
“I wanted to help.”
“I know but ripping out your stitches isn’t helpful. Let me wash my hands, and I’ll take a look at the damage.” I head for the bathroom attached to my room.
“I probably shouldn’t ski.”
“I told youthattoo,” I say over the running water. “Maybe you should start listening to me.” Once clean, I rejoin him in the bedroom.
“Yes, Dad.” Smirking, he rakes a hand through his hair. “I guess I’ll sit this one out.”
Great. While I don’t want him to hurt himself—again—I was hoping for an empty house for a few hours. Looks like that won’t be happening. Which, if I’m being honest with myself, is for the better. I shouldn’t start something with Camille. We live in different states, and she’s my fucking twin’s ex. I can already hear my mother ranting about it. Besides, the last thing I want to do is hurt Camille again when I inevitably disappoint her. She deserves better than me.
I release the world’s heaviest sigh. “Good call.”
“You OK, man?” Hudson eyes me.
“Never better.” I grab my supplies from my medical bag and unwrap the dressing.
“Sorry about wrecking the pantry this morning. And for fucking up my stitches. And for all the other dumb shit I’ve done.”
I chuckle. “Feeling remorseful, are we?”
He shrugs. “Feeling a lot of shit lately.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”
Hudson is the jokester of our group. It’s unsettling to see him somewhat somber, but I know him well enough to know he won’t talk unless he’s ready to.
“I’m here if you change your mind.” I quickly clean his wound and use medical glue to close the area where he popped a stitch. Then I bandage him back up.
“Appreciate it, man,” he says on his way out the door.
“No problem.”
Soon, Sawyer, Jude, Lena, Jordana, and Talia load up someone’s SUV and head for the slopes. Still quiet, Hudson settles on a couch to watch soccer, while Camille types away on her laptop in the kitchen. As much as I’d hoped to spend time with her, I don’t want to disturb her creative process. So, here I sit, alone in my room with nothing to do.
I was joking when I mentioned the afternoon nap earlier, but now the idea appeals to me. Especially since I slept like shit, and I’ve been up since three. Yawning, I lower the shades to darken the room. I don’t need it pitch-black, but the low winter sun reflecting off the snow is blinding. I strip down to my boxers and a T-shirt and pull the covers back.
Yeah, a nap sounds great.
I close my eyes and allow myself to drift, but just as I start to go under, another knock reaches my ears. Groaning, I toss the blankets off and pad over to the door. I pull it open to find Camille standing in the hallway, looking beautiful in yoga pants and a college hoodie.
Her eyes widen as she takes in my appearance. “Hey. Did I wake you?”
