The Real

Cameron’s Mac: He’s the best. And I give him hell for it. Very few men would save me for a chance to have that type of leverage. He saved my ass a few too many times in college.

Abbie’s Mac: College is where I met Bree. She was as wild as they come. Still is. Except she gets to live behind the nurse shield to justify the rest of her behavior.

Cameron’s Mac: She seems like good people. A little loud, though.

I bobbed my head furiously and crossed my eyes.

Abbie’s Mac: She’s the best. And the loudest. I think I need to get her hearing checked. It would be terrible to find out all these years later that she’s hard of hearing and I wasn’t a good enough friend to figure it out. But I’m pretty sure it’s just because she’s from Georgia.

I laughed at that, and Cameron’s eyes popped up to watch me.

Cameron’s Mac: How’s that Black Like Your Soul coffee?

Abbie’s Mac: Delicious. And I must compliment you on your mug of choice today. It’s not every day a man can admit that Everything’s a Dildo if You’re Brave Enough.

He let out a sharp laugh as I lifted my fingers, pressed them to my lips, and twisted them his way.

Did I just blow him a kiss?

I don’t know why I did it. He stiffened and his eyes flared as he watched it happen. His

fingers moved slowly over his keys while I waited with blood pounding in my ears.

Cameron’s Mac: Did you just get embarrassed? Cute.

Abbie’s Mac: Can we not talk about it?

Cameron’s Mac: Well, I’m not accepting that as a first kiss. And, Abbie, there will be a first kiss.

Emerald eyes met mine while goosebumps covered me.

Abbie’s Mac: I want that too.

Cameron’s Mac: This experiment of yours has me thinking like a teenager again.

I gave him a deep frown.

Cameron’s Mac: Hear me out before you start picturing porno flicks and sticky socks in my laundry hamper. I’m talking about the stuff in between. I really think about you. I wonder what you’re doing because I can’t text you to ask. I wonder what you’ll think or what you’ll say about something I’m reading. It’s like I crave your opinion now and these conversations. Things can get so easily predictable when you first meet someone and all you are is mostly physical.

I wanted to pry for more, but I didn’t. Those were the rules. My rules.

Abbie’s Mac: How old are you?

Cameron’s Mac: Thirty-four.

Abbie’s Mac: I can’t believe I hadn’t asked that before. Aren’t you going to ask me?

Cameron’s Mac: Without sounding like a prick, I don’t care. I know you have a thing for numbers, but whatever yours is, is fine with me. All I really want to know is if you want to have another cup of coffee with me?

The sincerity in his eyes showed me he meant every word.

I nodded.

“Mrs. Zingaro, I’m really late,” I said as she greeted me just as I was shutting my door.

“Okay, honey, I was just coming up to offer some of my ziti. I know how much you love it. I’ll put some aside for you.” Guilt instantly wracked me as she looked me over. I’d been spending less and less time with her over the last month. “And for the hundredth time, please call me Jenny. You look snazzy. Did you get a new fella?”

“I think so,” I answered.