"Being what?" Mae challenged, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. She had a silver fork clutched in her fist. Kenji opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it, again. Closed it.
"My point is," he continued nervously, "if I had never met you two, and if I'd never got the job at the shelter, I'd probably have moved back to Pennsylvania with Dad, already."
"I think that has more to do with you being a total loser than mixed," Mae commented.
"I am not a loser."
Cam scoffed. "Ten bucks says he's got puppies on his boxers."
"Disgraceful." Mae shook her head, and then after looking over Kenji thoughtfully, replied, "You're on."
"MY POINT IS," Kenji repeated loudly, looking slightly panicked at the idea of Mae and Cam pantsing him in public again, "Wyatt doesn't have you two like I do. The least we could do is hang out with him until he can get his footing and find different friends. It's only for the summer."
"Fine," Cam grumbled, stealing another fry from Mae's plate. "But lunch is on you."
Kenji nodded eagerly. "Great, because he should be here like any minute now."
"Wait — what?"
Cam barely had time to even process such a colossal statement when the bell to the diner rang, and Wyatt walked through, looking lost and way hotter than he remembered. Smooth, dark skin. Honey brown eyes. Cam's eyes skipped from the head of black messy curls to the glasses now perched on his face and then to his torso, and wow — shoulders. When did he get shoulders?
Wyatt paused at the front entrance, scanning the diner until they landed on the booth the trio had claimed at the back.
"Fuck," Cam hissed, sliding down on his seat to make himself less noticeable. Mae and Kenji were turned around now, and Kenji was waving him over like a maniac. He propped an elbow up on the table, desperately hiding his face with his hand.
People were probably looking now. This was a small town; Cam's sure no one's forgotten about the one and only chance Cam has had at a relationship ever was with that little African American boy—yeah, the one who pushed poor Cameron down a well. What ever happened to him?
Well, tune in, folks. He's here, already ruining Cam's life.
"Wyatt!" Kenji said happily. There was shuffling and an oof from Mae, and suddenly two sets of shoes were standing next to the booth. There was awkward bro-hugging and back-slapping and then Kenji turned back towards the booth. "You remember Maeve," he said, "...and, of course you remember Cameron."
"How could I forget?" Wyatt murmured, and holy seven deadliest of sins, when did his voice get so deep...and so languid...and so hot? How many times was he going to equivalate Wyatt with being hot? God, how long was he going to hide behind his hand?
Mae kicked at his leg, and Cam cleared his throat, sitting up like he hadn't been hiding like the coward he was. Fuck, were those freckles dotted across his nose? Christ.
"Uh, hey, Wyatt. Buddy. You look well." He flushed bright red. Nice choice of words, dumbass. "I mean — uh, good. You look, uh, wow, um good. Good?" He ran a hand through his blond hair self-consciously. Did he remember to brush it this morning? "I mean, not that you don't look well, either. But, uh, I mean — wells, am I right?"
three's company
Start from the beginning
