Hi, Jason!”

I watch as my brother turns around, his elbow hitting the box of nails he left on the windowsill and sending them crashing to the ground, scattering everywhere. The spilled nails cause a chain of events that has Jason juggling the wrench and hammer he has in his hands, until he drops both of those as well.

“Oh, hey, Amelia!” Jason replies a little too loudly.

His eyes never leave hers when he bends over to start picking up what he dropped, gravity making another hammer and two screwdrivers fall out of the utility belt around his waist, everything clamoring to the hardwood floor and echoing around the huge dance studio.

Biting down on my bottom lip, I keep my laughter locked up tight, nodding a greeting to Amelia as she waves and then turns to walk over to the other side of the room with a few other workers. When she’s out of earshot, I bend down to help Jason, letting my laughter burst out of me.

“You are so pathetic,” I chuckle, lifting up one of the hammers as Jason mutters curses under his breath while he scoops up nails and puts them back into the box.

“Fuck off,” he grumbles.

Jason has always come out to the camp to help Cameron with things that need to be fixed, but I found out recently that he’s been stopping by a lot more frequently since Amelia started working here. When Cameron told him yesterday the new window they had installed in the dance studio had started leaking when it rained, and informed him Amelia would be using the studio for most of the day and he could stop by another time so they wouldn’t be a distraction, he quickly told her it was no trouble and he’d be there first thing in the morning.

“I think it’s kind of cute you’re all shy and nervous around a girl. You could probably put an end to your misery by actually talking to her and asking her out,” I tell him with another laugh.

“I don’t need dating advice, especially from you,” he informs me, snatching the hammer out of my hand as I pick up a screwdriver.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Jason looks up at me and opens his mouth, but he’s cut off when Cameron walks in and we hear her call a greeting from behind us. As I turn my head to look back over my shoulder and give her a wave, my jaw drops open and the screwdriver slips from my hand, thumping to the floor.

Jesus Christ, what is she wearing?

I don’t know whether I should run in search of the nearest blanket and cover her up, or drag her out of here and toss her into another room where we can be alone and I can stare at her without anyone else noticing.

My head moves with her, following her as she walks down the middle of the room to the front, where Amelia and a few other workers have gathered for the demonstration. The minuscule gray shorts she’s wearing hug her perfect ass and that half-tank-top-looking thing shows off every inch of her tightly toned stomach. It’s been years since I’ve seen Cameron in something this revealing, the last time being when she was in her early twenties and we went swimming out at one of the lakes. She looked good in a bathing suit then, so good I had fantasies about her in it for months after. But this…sweet Christ, she’s so fucking hot it takes my breath away and fills my head with much dirtier thoughts than when we were younger.

“Who’s the pathetic one now, asshole?” Jason chuckles, making me turn my head away from her guiltily and scowl at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mutter, shoving the screwdriver in his hand as we both stand up.

“You’re so transparent you’re practically clear. How’s that hard-on you’ve got hiding in your pants? Also, you’ve got a little drool on your chin,” he laughs again.

“So she looks good? Whatever. She’s my best friend. I don’t get hard-ons for my best friend,” I lie, shoving my hands into the front pockets of my pants and pulling them away from my body to hide the fucking hard-on I do, in fact, have for my best friend right now.

“I think it’s kind of cute you’re all shy and nervous around your best friend. You could probably put an end to your misery by actually talking to her and asking her out,” Jason states, repeating the words I said to him, but with a huge smile on his face. “Carrying a torch for her all these years must be exhausting.”

Jesus, am I really that obvious? I’ve never told anyone how I felt about Cameron, especially not my brother. He never would have let me live it down, and he most definitely would have kicked my ass for being such a chicken shit all these years.

“Shut the hell up and go fix your window,” I grumble, turning and walking away from him to go stand in the back of the room, where I put Stratford in a chair, and as far away from Cameron as possible.