Chapter 4

Cameron’s POV

I was losing my mind.

The entire morning had been a blur of paranoia and sleepless exhaustion. Every time my phone vibrated, my stomach twisted so hard I thought I was gonna throw up. My mind wouldn’t stop replaying that night at the party—the heat, the way Brandon’s hands had felt on me, the way I had let it happen.

And now? Now I was walking straight toward him.

I spotted him near the quad, standing with a couple of his frat brothers like he didn’t have a single care in the world. Like my life wasn’t falling apart because of him.

My blood boiled.

Without thinking, I stormed up to him, grabbing his arm and yanking him away from his little audience.

Brandon barely reacted, just raised an eyebrow as I dragged him behind one of the buildings. “Wow,” he said, his voice dry. “If you wanted to hold my hand, Cameron, all you had to do was ask.”

My jaw clenched so hard it hurt. “Shut up.”

Brandon smirked. Smirked. Like this was some joke to him. Like he wasn’t the reason I was being blackmailed for more money than I even had.

I shoved him against the wall. “Are you behind this?”

His smirk faded slightly. “Behind what?”

I scowled. “Don’t play dumb. The blackmail. The threats. The photos. Are you the one doing this?”

Brandon’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “What photos?”

My stomach twisted. He didn’t sound fake. He sounded like he genuinely had no idea what I was talking about. But I wasn’t stupid—I wasn’t about to believe anything that came out of his mouth.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Cut the act. You have every reason to screw me over, and now someone’s threatening to expose what happened. If it’s you, just say it.”

Brandon exhaled sharply, tilting his head. “What happened, Cameron?”

I stiffened.

His voice wasn’t mocking anymore. It was almost…curious. Like he actually wanted to hear me say it.

I clenched my fists. “You know damn well what happened.”

He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “Do I?”

Something about the way he said it made me want to punch him. Or maybe it made me want to run. I wasn’t sure which.

I grabbed his shirt. “Just admit it.”

Brandon didn’t flinch. He just stared at me, his gaze searching mine. Then, slowly, he smirked again.

“You’re freaking out, huh?” His voice was annoyingly smooth. “Losing sleep over it?”

I gritted my teeth. “This isn’t a game.”

“Isn’t it?” He lifted an eyebrow. “You’re acting like you lost control. Like something happened that you can’t take back.”

I shoved him harder against the wall. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Brandon’s smirk widened slightly. “I know you kissed me first.”

My stomach twisted violently.

I didn’t even realize I had pulled back slightly until he straightened his shirt, watching me with that same infuriating expression.

“And you don’t seem to regret it as much as you want to.”

Heat surged through me, a mix of rage and something else—something I refused to acknowledge.

I opened my mouth to snap at him, but before I could, he kept going.

“You’re really bad at hiding it, you know,” he said, tilting his head. “All this anger? It’s a cover.”

I scoffed. “A cover for what?”

He smirked again, infuriatingly calm. “For the fact that you liked it.”

I stepped forward again, gripping the front of his shirt. “I didn’t.”

“Liar.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and his breath was warm against my skin. I hated that my body reacted to it.

My hands trembled against his shirt. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

“I know enough.”

My grip tightened. “Then why are you acting like nothing happened?”

Brandon shrugged. “Because it doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, right. Because you do this all the time, don’t you? You touch guys, you kiss them, and then you just walk away like nothing ever happened. Must be nice.”

Brandon’s smirk finally dropped.

For a moment, he just stared at me, his jaw tight, something dark flickering across his expression.

Then he muttered, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I opened my mouth to fire back, but before I could, my phone rang.

I barely glanced at the screen before my entire body went cold.

Dad.

Sh*t.

My fingers hovered over the screen, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs. I was about two seconds away from just letting it go to voicemail, but I already knew better than that.

I swallowed hard and pressed the button. “Hello?”

The second I answered, Dad’ furious voice blasted through the speaker.

“Get home. Now.”

I stiffened. “What—”

“NOW, Cameron.”

And then the line went dead.

I stood there, gripping my phone so tightly my knuckles turned white.

He never called. Not unless something was really wrong.

My stomach twisted. I forced in a slow breath, but it didn’t help. The air felt too thick, too heavy.

I dialed back. Straight to voicemail.

Once. Twice.

Sh*t.

I took a shaky step backward, my body already moving on

autopilot. My thoughts raced, a thousand possibilities slamming into me at once. What did he know? What did I do?