Novels by Gem

POV: CameronI sat on the floor for a long time.Not crying. Not moving. Just… breathing. Barely.The room felt like it was holding its breath with me. Quiet. Too quiet. My skin still buzzed like it remembered every second. My heart felt like it was trying to process three different feelings at once and failing at all of them.Shame. Warmth. Fear.I wrapped Brandon’s hoodie around myself tighter, even though it smelled like him — which just made everything worse.I didn’t know how to feel.Like… yeah, I wanted it. I asked for it. I said yes. But also, there was this small voice in the back of my head whispering: Is this who you are now? Is this what love looks like?And I hated that voice. Because it made me doubt something that felt good in the moment.Too good.My fingers twitched against the fabric of the carpet, now clean — thanks to me, obviously. Brandon had disappeared into his room with that cocky little smirk he always wore after getting the last word, and I was left alone in

Brandon POVCameron’s breath accelerated, and his eyes couldn’t stop blinking, as if looking at me confused . “Yeah, why should I listen to you right now?”I cocked my head to the side, feigning like he asked the most idiotic question in the world. “Because I own you sunshine.”That pissed him off. “Fuck you Brandon,” he got up from the couch and started pacing in the room and I got up along with him.Oh, he looked so indignant. He huffed and puffed and wanted to spit out something hateful, but I stopped him mid-thought when I pressed my lips against his ear and whispered, “Take your fucking clothes off.”Cameron turned white. His eyes fluttered, and his breathing all but stopped. There was that war in his head again, raging with cannons and tanks.“I won’t ask again, Cameron.” I continued. “You want it. I know you do.” I leaned back so he could see my shit-eating grin. “And you know you do too.”His eyes—God, they looked so vulnerable. He wanted so badly to hate me, but he knew I wa

POV: BrandonI came downstairs feeling about seventy-five percent smug, twenty percent nervous, and five percent… something else. The kind of something you don’t name because once you name it, it gets real. Real like sticky fingers on your ribs or how your heart stutters when you see someone curled up on your couch wearing your hoodie like it belongs to them more than it ever did to you.Which was exactly what Cameron was doing.The living room was soft-lit by the morning sun that had finally decided to stop playing hide and seek with the clouds. And there he was—blanket half draped over him, knees pulled to his chest, his chin resting on one. He looked like something out of a sad indie film. Like the kind where people stare out of windows for long dramatic pauses and nobody ever finishes their tea.I cleared my throat.He didn’t look up.Okay. Not a great start.“So,” I said, trying to sound casual and not like my stomach was doing full-on cartwheels, “I was thinking about starting a

POV: BrandonI’m not saying I’m a chef, but the way I was flipping pancakes that morning? Call me a breakfast Picasso.“Careful,” Cameron said from the counter, stealing blueberries straight from the bowl like a thief with zero regrets. “If you burn them, I’m revoking your kitchen privileges.”“Excuse me,” I said, dramatically offended. “These pancakes are a work of art. You’re just jealous because I know how to use a spatula without injuring myself.”“I’ve literally seen you melt a plastic spoon on a stove.”“That was one time,” I protested, pointing the spatula at him like it was a sword. “And I was emotionally unstable.”“You were trying to make ramen and it was this morning.”“I said what I said.”He just smirked, leaning on the counter with one hand and stealing another blueberry with the other. He was wearing another one of my hoodies—this one black and way too big—and his hair was still fluffy from his post-shower chaos. Basically, he looked like the definition of a walking cr

POV: BrandonI woke up to the sound of humming.Not angelic, not graceful—more like someone trying to win a karaoke battle in their own head. Off-key. Wildly confident. Weirdly charming.Of course it was Cameron.I blinked a few times, stretching like a cat, and turned my head just in time to see him tiptoeing around my room shirtless, wearing my hoodie—way too big on him—and a serious expression like he was about to perform open-heart surgery. On… his toothbrush?“Are you having a moment with your dental hygiene or…?”He jumped like I’d tasered him with my voice, then spun around dramatically, clutching the toothbrush like a weapon. “I thought you were asleep!”I smirked. “I was, but you singing Beyoncé woke me from the grave.”“I was humming,” he corrected, pointing the toothbrush at me like a judge. “And it was Frank Ocean, thank you.”“Could’ve fooled me.”“Whatever,” he huffed, turning back to dig through his overnight bag (which was actually just a tote with random chaos inside)

POV: CameronI didn’t want to move.I didn’t want to breathe or blink or do anything that would break the moment, because for once, everything felt still. My thoughts, my fear, my million insecurities—they all just… stopped. And all that was left was this: me, curled into Brandon on his tiny, kinda-saggy couch, our legs tangled together like puzzle pieces that finally made sense.His thumb rubbed slow circles over the back of my hand. Every few seconds, he’d lean over and kiss the side of my head, like he was reminding himself I was still there. Like he couldn’t help it.Honestly? Same.I couldn’t stop staring at him. His messy hair, the soft curve of his lips, the way his blue eyes kept drifting over to me like I was a favorite song on repeat. It was annoying. And perfect. And made my stomach do that stupid rollercoaster drop every time.“You keep looking at me like I’m gonna vanish,” he said finally, voice quiet and teasing.“Maybe I am,” I muttered.He raised an eyebrow. “Wanna tal

Cameron’s POVThe second we shut the bathroom door behind us, both Brandon and I jumped like we'd been caught making out by a teacher , which, to be fair, wasn't too far from the truth.I yanked my phone from the makeshift stand on the sink and stopped the recording with shaking hands. “Okay,” I breathed, “Let’s see who was the fucker creeping on us.”We hovered over my phone screen like it held the answer to life’s biggest mystery. I rewound the footage, skipping past the fake flirting, the water droplet kiss (yeah, still not over that), and paused the video at the exact moment the doorknob jiggled open.“There,” I whispered, pausing the video at the exact frame.Brandon’s brows pinched, his face leaning in close to mine as we both stared at the small screen. The faintest shadow flickered at the crack beneath the bathroom door,then, boom. A flash of someone holding their phone. Not a full face, but enough of a profile to piece it together.That jawline. That mop of curly brown hair.

Cameron’s POVThrowing a party under the excuse of an engagement was probably the dumbest genius idea I’d ever had. I told Brandon it was for us to get the blackmailer ,lure him and set the trap. But let’s be real: maybe I also wanted to see what would happen if we blurred the lines a little more.“You owe me for this,” Brandon muttered as we stood near the makeshift snack table, the diamond ring Brandon got me during our shopping date, glinting on my finger. The frat house was packed. Music thumped, people cheered whenever they passed us, and someone had already started a chant that ended with “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”I gave them a smirk and winked. “Patience, children. Let the lovebirds breathe.”Brandon groaned and muttered, “I hate you.”“No, you don’t,” I said sweetly, then took a sip from my Solo cup and whispered, “Tonight, we catch the rat.”As the party wound down, the air thick with sweat, spilled drinks, and too much Axe body spray, I switched to phase two: pretend to be wasted.

Cameron POVI should’ve been angry. Furious. Hell, maybe even panicked.Someone was threatening me. Not from the outside, but from within our own circle. Someone who’d looked me in the eye, smiled like we were friends, and then turned around and stabbed me in the back with a screenshot. They were recording us—me and Brandon—and they wanted something. Control, maybe. Or chaos.But it doesn’t matter. Brandon has already caught this coward’s tail, and I will definitely use it to find out who this person is.I walked back into Brandon’s room with my shoulders squared, my mind already ten steps ahead. No dramatics. No flopping on the bed. Just quiet, directed intent.Brandon was still sitting on the edge of the mattress, phone in hand, head bowed like he was reading something important. He looked up when I entered, eyes scanning my face.“You okay?” he asked.“No,” I said flatly. “But I know what we’re going to do.”He raised a brow. “Go on.”I shut the door behind me and leaned against i

Brandon’s POVI wasn’t sure what I expected after last night. Maybe for Cameron to wake up tangled in my sheets, maybe to make pancakes and pretend like we were normal. Maybe for him to kiss me again, slow and lazy, like we had all the time in the world.What I didn’t expect? Him leaving first thing in the morning… to meet Erica.Yeah. Her.The girl he said he liked. The one he kept insisting was just a friend. I felt like someone had slammed a door in my chest and locked it from the other side. But of course, I didn’t let it show. I wasn’t that guy.So when he came back, hair messy from the wind and cheeks still flushed like he’d laughed too much, I just crossed my arms and asked, “You went to see Erica?”His eyes flicked up, like he was expecting a trap. “Yeah. I did.”Cool. No lies. That was something, right?“Just be careful,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “If people see you two together, we’ll have to spin the narrative. PR will be all over it.”He blinked. “Oh. Right

Cameron’s POVI couldn't look Erica in the eyes without getting a full-blown flashback of last night.She’d called me this morning asking to meet for coffee, and honestly, I leapt at the excuse. Not because I didn’t want to be around Brandon , God, no. But because I needed a breather. His house had become this dangerous bubble of need and orgasms and whispered promises. My body still felt like it was floating, and I wasn’t sure how to plant my feet back on the ground.Every nerve in my body remembered him,vividly, achingly. His hands anchoring my waist like I might slip away, the tender graze of his lips trailing along my jaw, and the way he whispered my name… like it was something sacred. Like I was his favorite secret.The memory of his mouth on my skin,biting, marking, claiming,sent a shiver cascading down my spine. Not once. Not in one place. But everywhere. It was as if he had drawn a map of himself across my body, and now, every inch of me hummed with the memory of him. Of us.B

Brandon POV“Now it's time to take that ass of yours."The words are heavy with meaning. I feel it in the pit of my stomach, like I've swallowed rocks and shook them up. He needs to know he belongs to me and no-one else and if I had to fuck that into him, then so be it.Cameron steps into my space, backing me against the table. His lips hover over the shell of my ear."I want you to fuck me raw. Take my ass and fill it so good." He peppers the words over my neck, jaw, and mouth, kissing and licking the words from my skin once he's said them.He must either be high from jerking himself or still drunk from the alcohol.Whatever it was, I didn't care.I curse as most of my primary brain function shorts out. Tilting my head up, I lick and suck the skin under his chin and down his neck before pulling his head down so I can reach his mouth. Our tongues wrap around each other, flicking and caressing, until the kiss grows fevered. We become frantic and we fumble onto the bed, a mass of bare