Camron povThe warm water cascading down my aching shoulders was a welcome relief.I toweled off and made my way to my bedroom, only to find Brandon sitting on my bed with his arms crossed.“What the fuck are you doing in here now?” I asked.His face was red with wonder, and his jaw clicked as he ground his teeth. “We’re going to try something.”Brandon rose from the bed and approached. My body tensed as I prepared for the worst. He stopped inches before me with an unreadable look on his face. “Hit me.”I blinked in confusion. “What?”“Get it out of your system, what Drake said and what he did. Hit me,” he said again.My heartbeat accelerated. Standoffs with Brandon stirred my emotions like nothing else. A collision of anger and arousal rumbled within. “Why would you let me hit you like this?” I asked.“Because you’re hurt.” He said it so matter-of-factly that it left me speechless. “Hit me,” he said again.His blue eyes stared into mine with quiet resignation. He braced himself for
L (Cameron POVI woke up to the smell of waffles.Which was weird, because I definitely hadn’t bought waffle mix.I groaned, my face still smushed against Brandon’s hoodie, which I was still wearing because… comfort. His side of the bed was empty, but warm.The apartment was way too quiet except for some bad humming and the faint sound of something sizzling, probably in a way it shouldn’t.I padded into the kitchen, hair sticking up in four different directions and socks half on.“What,” I croaked, “are you doing?”Brandon turned around, beaming, holding a spatula like he was on Chopped.“Making breakfast,” he announced. “Because you had a crap night and I’m trying to be a supportive boyfriend.”I blinked. “We don’t own a waffle iron.”“We do now,” he said smugly, pointing to a suspiciously cheap-looking one on the counter.I squinted. “Where did that come from?”“I ordered it last night while you were dead asleep and cuddling me like a squid.”“I was not—”“You definitely were. Arms.
Cameron POVBrandon didn’t say much after I told him what happened.He just stayed close. Like gravity, or muscle memory.He helped me out of my hoodie and handed me a hoodie of his instead—soft and oversized and still warm from his body heat. I didn’t even argue. Just pulled it on, then curled up on the couch while he grabbed us water and one of those fuzzy blankets we always pretended we didn’t use.“I should’ve come up sooner,” he muttered, sitting beside me.“You couldn’t have known,” I said, my voice hoarse. “It’s not your fault.”“Still.” He looked down at his hands. “He kissed you.”“Yeah.” I shut my eyes for a second. “I shoved him off. Hard.”“Good.” Brandon’s voice was sharp, but then it softened. “I’m sorry, Cam.”I leaned against his shoulder, quiet for a beat. “You don’t have to say sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”His arm slid around me, gentle but solid. “Yeah, well. I still hate that he did that to you.”“I just…” I trailed off. My fingers fidgeted with the drawst
Cameron POvIt was supposed to be a quick trip.Just grab a hoodie, maybe my good sneakers, and head back to Brandon’s apartment. Easy. No drama. Just clothes and go. We’d just won a freaking race together—life was supposed to feel light, stupid, full of adrenaline and junk food.Instead?I opened the door and found Drake sitting on the arm of my couch like he owned the place.My heart did that stupid jolt thing—part panic, part seriously?He stood up the second he saw me, eyes locked on mine. No smile. No awkward “hey.” Just this simmering intensity that made my stomach twist.“Nice of you to finally show up,” he said.I blinked. “Why are you here?”“You’ve been ignoring my messages.”“I’ve been busy.”“Busy?” He stepped closer. “Busy getting engaged?”I froze.He held up his phone. My phone screen stared back at me—specifically Brandon’s latest Instagram post. Me, blurry and laughing with a milkshake. Caption: He said yes. He’d been joking, obviously. Brandon was always posting nons
POV: BrandonIf you had told me last week that I’d be at an actual F1 race with my grumpy, stats-loving boyfriend, I probably would’ve laughed and made some sarcastic comment about us crashing into a popcorn stand.But here we were.Cameron was practically vibrating in his seat. Like, real-life vibrating. Not even trying to hide it. His sunglasses were pushed up into his hair, and he had that super rare, slightly-unhinged smile that only came out when he forgot to be cool for five seconds.“Is that—wait. That’s Álvaro Costa,” he said, pointing like an excited child.I grinned. “You’re so cute when you nerd out over fast cars.”He elbowed me without looking. “Shut up. This is serious. Álvaro is a legend.”“Serious,” I repeated solemnly, stealing a fry from his lap.The track roared, engines revving so loud my chest buzzed. I couldn’t hear much beyond it, but I didn’t need to. Cameron’s eyes were bright. Focused. Happy.And honestly? That was better than any race.Halfway through the ev
Cameron POV We didn’t talk about it right away. Not the fight. Not Drake. Not the way the whole apartment still felt like it was echoing with things we didn’t say. Brandon just made tea. He didn’t ask what kind I wanted—he just brought me my usual and dropped three extra sugar cubes in it like he always did when I was spiraling. I sat on the couch like a ghost, hoodie pulled over my head, legs folded up beneath me. Brandon handed me the mug and then flopped next to me, his knees knocking into mine. We sat there for a long time. Just… breathing. “I feel like I’m gonna explode,” I said eventually. My voice was so small it almost didn’t sound like mine. “Like, there’s a grenade in my chest and someone just pulled the pin and walked away.” Brandon took a slow sip of tea. “Yeah. That tracks.” I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. “He makes me feel like I’m twelve again.” Brandon set his mug down. “Like the kid who had to be smaller just to survive the room?” That made my