Why am I so nervous?

I know it’s only been a few days, but I feel like we’ve clicked. Maybe we won’t have that same connection in person, but it’s worth a try, right? At the very worst, maybe I’ve made a new friend. But if there’s the potential for more…then why the hell not?

I have a shower, then I get changed. I lift the dress over my head, shivering as it falls down over my hips. The thin material hugs my curves, falling halfway down my thighs. I smooth my hands down over the soft black chiffon as I examine my reflection in the mirror. I frown, because it shows much more skin than I was expecting, but I look good. Though if Mom saw this, she wouldn’t let me out of the house.

I brush my hair, then twist it into a loose bun, fastening it with clips on top of my head. Loose strands fall around my face. Some mascara and a little lip gloss finish off my look, then I grab my purse—and a jacket, in case I run into Mom downstairs, and walk out.

I take a deep breath and walk through the front doors of the bar. I do a lot of crazy shit, but right now, this feels like the craziest thing I’ve ever done. Hell, I don’t even get nervous when I go on a real date, so how is some random guy I’ve never even met making me feel like this?

Because I like him.

Another wave of nausea hits me as I look around for any sign of him. I’m pretty sure he’s not here yet, not that I really know who I’m looking for.

Unless that’s the idea.

He could be that old guy in the corner, who’s smiling at me. Maybe he thought I wouldn’t notice that I’m half his age? Or that other guy slumped in the booth, with ten empty beer glasses in front of him. I study every guy in the place, dismissing each of them when I meet their eyes and see no flash of recognition or embarrassment that they’ve been caught out lying. I turn my gaze falls over to the last guy, who’s sitting at the table, over near the bar. He’s facing away from me, but even from behind, there is something familiar about him. I frown, because I can’t put my finger on what it is. Then he turns his head, just enough for me to realize that I know him.

Fuck.

Of all the places to run into Cameron, it has to be here?

How am I going to meet this guy with my future stepbrother a few tables away? I take a deep breath, glance around again. Maybe if I call him, I can catch him before he gets here, and we can meet somewhere else. I dig my phone out of my purse and dial his number. How have we not even spoken on the phone before now? My heart stops when Cameron reaches for his phone too.

No fucking way.

But even without confronting him, I know it’s true. Cameron is James. James is Cameron. They’re the same fucking person. He set me up. I narrow my eyes, a mix of anger and embarrassment surging through me. Every reply I sent James flies through my mind.

Oh God.

I masturbated in front of him and then told him about it.

What kind of sick fuck is he?

My eyes dart to the mirror behind the bar. He’s watching me. He purposely chose that spot, because he thought he could watch everything unfold and I’d never know. I shake my head. He’s probably been sitting there for ages, laughing at me, waiting for the chance to humiliate me in person.

Well, that’s something I’m not going to let him do.

He stands up, his eyes meeting mine just as I turn on my heel and stalk out. My heart pumps rapidly in my chest as I walk a few blocks down from the bar. I try to hail a cab, but nobody will stop. When I glance back and see Cameron catching up to me, I just keep walking. I’m so angry but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’s gotten to me that much. Seeing this kind of reaction is exactly what he wants.

“Darcy. Wait,” he says, grabbing my arm.

I spin around and stare daggers at him.

“Don't you dare even talk to me right now.”

I spit the words at him, my anger levels rising with every word. So much for not showing him what I’m feeling. There’s no hope of me holding back now.

“I knew you were a cockhead, but this is low, even for you.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. The remorseful look in his eyes almost gets me, but then I remind myself of what a manipulator he is. “I honestly didn't mean to hurt you. I just thought it would be funny—”

“Funny?” I repeat. “Am I fucking laughing, Cameron?” I shake my head. “Is everything a joke to you, or is it just specifically me?”

I break the hold he has on my wrist and step back, just as a cab pulls up. My hands shake as I yank open the door and climb inside. I don’t even look back at him as the cab pulls away, because I’m doing everything I can not to cry.

How did I not see that coming?

I’m not sure what upsets me more, the fact that he played me or the fact that I fell for it. I shake my head. Yesterday, I felt guilty for being so hard on him, but maybe I wasn’t being hard enough. At least this proves one thing. I was right about Cameron Hunter all along.

I head straight home, praying Mom isn’t going to blindside me with questions. I’m as quiet as possible as I let myself inside, but the silence that greets me tells me I’m alone.

Thank fuck for that.

I run up to my room and close the door, sitting down on the bed. The shock has begun to lessen, and the anger I’m feeling is really beginning to show.

I can’t believe he’d be such an asshole.

I’m not stupid. I knew there was a chance James wasn’t who he said he was. Nor was I head over heels in love with the guy, but I did like him. All those conversations, everything I learned about him, I began to like him. Knowing he isn’t even real makes me feel kind of empty.

But what if I had started to fall for him? What if Cameron had caught me at a very vulnerable time in my life and I started falling in love with this guy? Playing with someone’s emotions like that could’ve ended very badly, especially if a person wasn’t in a good place mentally.

I crawl into my bed and pull the covers up to my neck. It’s barely ten o’clock, but all I want to do is go to sleep and forget this ever happened. The problem is, every time I close my eyes, I see Cameron laughing at me and it makes me angry. What he needs is to be taught a lesson that toying with people’s emotions is not okay.

Maybe I’m the one who needs to teach that to him.

My alarm wakes me up early on Saturday morning, for work. I still feel like shit, but at least work will distract me. I pull back the sheets and sigh, because I’m still dressed in last night’s clothes. I know that’s going to raise too many questions, so I shower first, get dressed and then go in search of caffeine.

“Hey,” I mumble to Mom.

She looks up from her breakfast and studies me.

“How was your night out?” she asks. “We got home at just after ten and you were in bed already?”

“Yeah, I was tired, so I postponed it,” I lie. “A late night when I had to work the next day wasn’t a good idea anyway.”

I force a smile, but Mom isn’t buying it. I ignore her eyes on me and make myself the world’s strongest coffee.

“Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?” she asks, looking concerned.

“I said I’m fine,” I snap.

Mack walks into the kitchen, whistling to himself. He stops in his tracks when he sees we’re in the middle of something. He grins, looking from Mom, to me.

“What have I missed?”

“Don't worry,” Mom assures him. “You haven't missed much. My daughter is in a very foul mood and I’m trying to figure out why.”

“Ah,” Mack nods knowingly. “That time of the month?”

I glare at him.

“What?” he shrugs innocently. “My friend Zach has four sisters and he says they’ve synced.” His eyes widen as he speaks. “He reckons that time of the month is an absolute warzone and not just because of the fighting either. He says its pure carnage. The blood is everywhere.”

I open my mouth to reply but decided to shut it. What’s the point? He’s Mack. He plays by his own set of rules, much like everyone else in his family. I used to wonder how Jim could produce such an asshole in Cameron, but two sons?

Maybe the problem runs deeper.

“I'm going to work,” I sigh.

I really don’t want to be here.

The morning is dragging to the point where an hour feels like three. I’m hanging out for lunch, just so I can sit outside in the sun. More than once, I’ve caught myself looking at my phone for messages from James, and then I’d remember that it was Cameron all along.

When my lunch break finally rolls around, I head outside to eat, like I do nearly every day. It’s much nicer out here, especially under my huge tree, and it also means I don’t have to deal with the politics in that staffroom. More than once I’ve heard my name mentioned, along with Jim’s. I know everyone thinks I’m only here because of my connections, and I guess I am. Only now I don’t want to be here at all.

I toss my sandwich back in my bag, not hungry. Then I shiver when a gust of cool air hits my arms. I lean back against the tree and close my eyes. I sigh, wishing I was anywhere but here.

“We keep running into each other like this.”

I look up and smile at Linton.

“You know they give you a staffroom you can eat in,” he adds.

“Is that the same staffroom that makes me feel like I’m back in high school?” I joke.

“One in the same. You can’t tell me you weren’t one of the popular girls,” he teases as he plonks down next to me. “Oh wait, you weren’t out here to be alone or anything, were you?” he asks as an afterthought.

I shake my head. “Of course not.”

I’m secretly thrilled for the company.

“Good, hope you you’re just saying that?” he asks. He frowns at me. “Because you kind of look like you want to murder somebody today. I’m just making sure it’s not me.”

“Murdering someone sounds pretty good, but no, it’s not you,” I say, smiling at him. I like Linton. He has an infectious personality that you can’t help but enjoy.

“Good,” he nods. “So, is it a specific person we want to murder or is this the random thrill killing you’re into? Because just so you know, I’m up for either.”

I giggle. “It’s definitely specific to one person.”

He nods. “If it’s guy related then that’s my area of expertise,” he boasts. “Especially assholes.”

An unbiased opinion isn’t a bad idea…

“It’s kind of a long story,” I warn him.

“They’re my favorite kind,” he grins, getting himself more comfortable.

“Okay, my friends play a practical joke on me every year, because my birthday falls on April Fools' Day,” I begin.

Linton winces. “That must be rough.”

“Most of the time, it’s fine. It’s just a bit of fun,” I assure him. “Except this year, they decided to go all out and place an ad on my behalf on a hookup site.”

“Uh-oh. Which site?” he asks.

“Anything Goes?” I say.

Since I’d never heard of it, I’m not expecting him to have.

He starts laughing. “They were really out to get you then. I don't even need to see the ad to know it’s not going to be good.” He shakes his head and laughs. “That site is crawling with people wanting cheap sex and casual hook-ups. It’s creep central—especially if you’re into any kind of fetish. Is this why my sister thought you were into Furries?”

I nod. “I’m apparently into everything,” I say dryly.

He shudders. “Oh god. I want to kill your friends for you.”

“Anyway, one reply out of hundreds stood out. Probably because it wasn’t offensive or rude. We were texting for about a week, before we arranged to meet. He seemed really nice, so I was excited to see if it was the same when we met in person,” I explain. “I walked into the bar where we arranged to meet, and he was my stepbrother.”

“Wow,” Linton shakes his head, amazed. “What a coincidence.”

I shake my head. “I wish, but nothing about it was a coincidence. He knew it was me when he answered that ad.”

“You fell in love with the guy after a week of texting, but he turned out to be your stepbrother?” He raises eyebrows at me.

“No,” I retort, my face flushing. “Of course I wasn’t in love with him. I’m not out here, cradling my broken heart. But I did like him. I guess somewhere in my mind I thought maybe it might lead somewhere…”

“So…you’re angry because there was a chance there might be chemistry when you met?”

“Yes,” I say with a frown.

“And there’s definitely no chance of you and your step—”

“Nope. Zero,” I assure him.

He laughs. “Then why are you so upset?”

“Because he’s an ass,” I retort.

“So, it’s because he got one over you?” he teases.

“No,” I growl. “It's like playing lotto and someone checked my ticket, taking away the dream of me winning.”

“Now you’re likening this to lotto?” he chortles. “You’re fucking hilarious,” he giggles. “And who the hell doesn’t check a ticket? Wouldn't you rather know if you’ve one?”

“No,” I retort. “Not if the chances of me losing are much higher. If I don’t check it, then I can still cling to the hope that I’ve won.”

“Yes, but you’re not going to know till you check it,” Linton argues. “What if you’re sitting on a winning ticket?”

“I know, but that’s my decision, not yours, or anyone else’s to make,” I say. “Before I knew it was Cameron, before I met the person behind those texts, there was a chance we might click in person too.”

“If it was a stranger and you didn’t click, would you be angry at them?” he reasons.

“Yes,” I snap, just to put an end to this stupid argument. He takes the hint and rolls his eyes.

He sighs. “Okay, fine. So, your step bro is a dick,” he concludes. “What are you going do about it?”

“Let it fester for a couple of days, then get over it, and move on?” I say, shrugging.

“Or you could get back at him,” Linton suggests. His eyes twinkle. “You said you didn’t fall in love with him, right?”

I nod. “I’d be crazy to fall for someone that quickly,” I say with a smirk.

“He’d probably freak the fuck out if you did, though. Wouldn’t he?” he says.

My eyes widen as I get what he’s hinting at. “You’re a fucking genius,” I gasp.

He nods. “I know. I am having trouble convincing everyone else it’s true.”

I glance at the time and scramble to my feet, because my lunch hour was over five minutes ago.

“Sorry, I have to get back,” I apologize to him while pointing to the building. “Hey, we should catch up sometime outside of work?” I add.

“Sure,” he says, then he winces. “Maybe the week after next? My schedule is crazy busy at the moment.”

I nod. I’m fine with that, because so is mine.

“Bye,” I grin. “Thanks again for your help.”

I wave at him and walk off. My mind already in full gear, trying to work out the best way to pull one over on him. I shake my head, because it’s perfect. He isn’t going to know what hit him. Crazy, obsessed, and hopelessly in love with Cameron Hunter after two days of texting?

I can rock the fuck out of that.