It wasn’t the words I wanted to hear, so I cut him off. “Yeah, me too,” I whispered.
And then without looking back, I ran out of there.
“Where the hell have you been?” Flick hurried over to me, sliding her arm through mine. “You’ve been gone like thirty minutes.”
Is that all it was? It felt like I’d been with Cameron for longer. Time had ceased to exist in Coach Hasson’s trophy room. But I’d come crashing back down to Earth with a resounding thud when Asher stumbled in on us.
He’d seen us.
God, what a mess.
I believed Cameron when he said Asher wouldn’t say anything, but it didn’t make the fact he knew any easier.
“Are you okay? You look... I don’t know, flushed.”
Which, of course, only made me flush harder.
“I’m fine, I just ran into Cameron.”
“Oooh.” Her eyes danced with excitement. “And...”
“And what?” I frowned.
“And what did the two of you talk about?”
“Nothing important.” I shrugged, guilt washing over me.
She gave me a strange look. “You’re hiding something, Hailee Raine.” Flick leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “Did you drag him off to the bathroom and kiss him again?”
Something like that. “Seriously?” I schooled my expression. “We’re at Coach Hasson’s home surrounded by the whole team, not to mention their families.” Although now I came to think about it, I hadn’t seen Cameron with his parents. I’d heard Jason say they never came around to his games anymore, since his mom had his little brother a few years ago.
“Yeah, I guess that could be awkward if Jason or your mom walked in.” She smothered a snicker. “But you’re going to have to get used to being around each other if you’re doing the Seniors Night project, right?”
Right.
I silently groaned, wondering if I’d made a terrible mistake agreeing to this project.
“I know that look.” Flick guided us back outside to the huge yard.
“What look?” I humored her.
“You’re falling for him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” A strangled laugh escaped my lips, but I wasn’t laughing on the inside. Because she couldn’t be right.
I couldn’t actually be falling for Cameron Chase.
Could I?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cameron
“You have a visitor,” Asher whispered as we jogged onto the field. My eyes followed his finger only to find Hailee sitting alone in the bleachers.
“She must be making a start on her art project.”
“Art project, right,” he drawled. “Is that what we’re calling it? Because if the project includes getting up close and personal with her like I saw the two of you in Coach’s trophy room on Friday night, then sign me—”
“Seriously, you need to stop talking,” I ground out, searching the field for Jase. Asher noticed and smothered a laugh.
“Don’t sweat it, he’s working with Coach on some new plays.”
I levelled him with a hard look, but it only fueled his curiosity. “So, what’s the deal? Since when does looking out for her involve having your fingers buried deep in—”
“Ash, I swear to God if you—”
“Jeez.” His hands flew up. “Joke, I’m joking. But I’m starting to think this thing with her isn’t a game. You like her.”
“I don’t...”
He gave me a pointed look. “Oh fuck, you do, you totally like her. Jase is going to—”
“Never find out about this, you hear me? It was a mistake.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, man.” Asher clapped me on the back. “Just be careful. That chick is crazy. And this thing with her, Jase, and Thatcher is only going to get worse before it gets better.”
Which is exactly what I was worried about.
We’d all expected Thatcher to make a move during Rivals Week but there had been nothing but crickets. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t hit back though, it just meant he was biding his time. Waiting to strike.
“Chase, Bennet, get your asses over here, ladies, we’ve got drills to run,” one of the assistant coaches yelled. With a final glance at the bleachers and Hailee, I stuffed down all the thoughts running through my head and focused on the task at hand. Kicking some defense ass.
After a grueling practice, I hung back while the rest of the guys stalked into the locker room. Coach was busy talking to Hailee. She had a sketch pad in her hands and a smile plastered on her face as she showed him whatever it was she’d been working on.
“Chase, come over here, Son,” his voice boomed across the field and I tore my helmet off and jogged over to them. “What’s up, Coach?” My eyes grazed Hailee’s face as I swept a hand through my damp hair, but she kept her gaze firmly on the pad in her hand.
“Can you show Miss Raine to the storage room? She wants to dig through some of the old picture albums for…” He glanced at her and she smiled.
“Inspiration.”
“Inspiration, right.” Coach pressed his lips together. “Can I trust you to show her?”
“Of course, Sir.”
“And if you need anything else, just ask.” He gave her a stern nod and left us alone.
“Hey.” I gave her a smile. “How are you?”
“I’m okay, thanks.” Her eyes darted around mine.
“Listen, I wanted to talk to you, after the other n—”
“Let’s not do this,” Hailee said, clutching the sketch pad to her chest like a shield. As if she needed armor against me. The thought punched me square in the chest. “I need to concentrate on this project if I want to get it done in time and I can’t afford any… distractions.”
“Is that what I am?” The corner of my mouth tipped. Being a distraction to her sounded like something I could get on board with.
“Cameron, I’m serious.” She gave me a narrowed look, but I was sure I caught a sparkle in her eyes.
“No distractions.” I held up my hands. “I promise. Come on, I’ll show you where the storage room is, but I should probably warn you, it smells like years old cleats in there.” Her nose wrinkled, and I chuckled. “Did you think painting the team would be all glamorous and shit?”
“I don’t know what I thought.” She was still clutching that shield of hers. “To be honest, I’m feeling a little out of my league here.”
“Let me see what you have.”
“Hmm, I don’t know.” Her fingers gripped the pad tighter. “It’s only a rough sketch at the moment. I wanted to catch you in action.” A sexy blush spread up her neck and into her cheeks and I didn’t miss the way she almost choked over the word ‘action’. “I’m thinking of doing a less traditional composition, something that captures the essence of the sport rather than just the player.”
“Sounds… complicated.” I had no fucking clue about art and compositions or any of that stuff.