Semua Bab Rival's Contract Marriage : Bab 61 - Bab 70

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: 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

POV: BrandonI swear I only wanted tacos.That was the plan. Go to the food truck. Get tacos. Eat tacos. Maybe flirt with Cameron until he rolled his eyes and told me to shut up.Simple.But then he showed up wearing my grey hoodie (yes, the same one he swore smelled like “teenage boy and emotional damage”), his hair still damp from his earlier shower, and I forgot what tacos even were.“You’re staring,” he muttered, bumping his shoulder into mine as we waited in line.“I’m admiring,” I corrected with a grin. “Totally different thing.”He gave me his classic unimpressed look—the one that was 30% grumpy, 40% secretly flattered, and 30% how did I fall for this idiot.“You look good in my hoodie,” I added, nudging him.Cameron huffed but didn’t move away. “You said that ten minutes ago.”“And I’ll say it ten more.”He didn’t respond, but the corner of his mouth twitched. That almost-smile that barely existed but was so satisfying when I caught it.It was warm outside. Not sweltering, jus

POV: BrandonThere’s something weirdly satisfying about walking into campus with Cameron beside me. Maybe it’s the way his hand fits in mine—like we’re puzzle pieces designed to bicker and banter for eternity. Or maybe it’s just how every other couple looks boring as hell in comparison.We’re halfway across the quad, and Cameron’s already tried to let go of my hand three times.“People are staring,” he muttered, side-eyeing a girl across the lawn who was definitely pretending not to look.I tightened my grip on his hand like a koala refusing to be evicted from a tree. “Let them. Maybe they’re admiring your moody aura.”He gave me a look. The kind that says Brandon, I’m dangerously close to fake breaking up with you in front of the dining hall.I grinned anyway. “Besides, you’re hot when you’re annoyed.”“I’m always annoyed.”“Exactly.”He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Can you not be like this for one morning?”“Nope.” I leaned closer until our shoulders touched. “This is wh

Chapter 3: Inbox Surprises POV: Cameron The next morning hit like a slap from a cold textbook. I blinked at the sunlight streaking across my bed, groaned into my pillow, and refused to move. Somewhere in the kitchen, Brandon was probably making pancakes again. The man had a culinary range of, like, three things. But unfortunately, one of them was really good pancakes. I finally dragged myself upright, hair sticking up in ten directions and dreams of quitting college dancing in my head. My phone buzzed. I ignored it. Then it buzzed again. And again. “Ugh,” I grumbled, grabbing it with one eye still shut. [1 New Email: Congratulations – Internship Placement] I blinked. Sat up straighter. Opened it. Then blinked again, because my brain was buffering. Dear Cameron, We’re excited to inform you that you’ve been accepted for the internship at Crestview Media! I dropped the phone. “Holy—” “Is that a scream of joy or did you find a spider?” Brandon called from the kitchen. I