Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“Okay—”
Cami dipped around a group of guys goofing about near the covered patio and headed for the pool house. “Hey, Cam, what’s the rush?” Kent, the team’s fullback, asked, his head tilting as he leaned to the side to make a show of checking out her ass.
“Secret mission. I’m not at liberty to discuss it,” she shot over her shoulder with a flirty wink.
“Sounds hot.” His laugh drifted behind her as she turned into the air-conditioned space.
She walked to the bathroom at the back and locked the door behind her. “Damn,” she muttered when she found that her period was still MIA. “Don’t panic.” There might be other explanations than the one she was most worried about. Cheerleading practice had been intense lately, and she’d been working out more than usual. Plus, finals were coming up, and she’d been stressed. Her dad expected her to maintain a 4.0 GPA on top of all her extracurriculars, which—back to current concerns—included sex with her boyfriend for an entire weekend last month when his parents were away on business. She’d lied to her mom and dad and told them she was sleeping over at Tia’s.
She’d gone on the pill, though, and she hadn’t missed one. She’d protected herself. She’d been smart.
So where the hell is my period?
Cami washed her hands and then grabbed the hand towel hanging next to the sink and stared at her reflection. Tia was right—she looked like she might have eaten an ant-covered hot dog. Oh God, don’t think of that food item. She pressed her lips together and pulled in a breath through her nose. Other than appearing a little peaked, as her mom would say, she looked like herself—glossy auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail, wide hazel eyes, and a face and body that had caught the attention of the star quarterback of their high school football team. Hollis Barclay III was arguably perfect—rich, gorgeous, and obviously headed for greatness—and Cami was the envy of all the girls in school, likely of all the girls in the small town of Aspen Cove, Virginia.
God, he’d freak if—
She tossed the towel aside and turned away from her reflection. Nope. She wasn’t going to spin out of control. This might be—it probably was—a false alarm.
The sounds of music and raucous laughter filtered in from outside, and for a minute she considered staying right there, where it wasn’t hot and noisy and where she wasn’t expected to be chatty and giggly and fun. But she couldn’t hide inside indefinitely either. And it was almost time for her to go anyway. Her dad was leaving on a business trip in the morning, and she’d already told Hollis she had plans with her family.
Just one more hour. You can do it.
She left the bathroom just as a few of the other cheerleaders burst through the door of the pool house, singsonging hellos to her as they passed by. She brought forth her carefree grin and greeted them back.
When she stepped out into the bright late-summer day, the glare of sun blinded her momentarily, so that she squinted and turned her head as she waited for her eyes to adjust. When they did, her gaze was focused on the tops of the swaying trees in the Barclays’ side yard.
All too soon, the leaves would be changing and the pool parties would come to an end, to be replaced by tailgating and bonfires. Eyes raised, she walked in the direction of the trees, away from the party and into the shade of a patio overhang that was situated next to the pool house.
As she watched those swaying trees, Cami felt an odd dwindling inside that she could only attribute to the impending end of one season as it shifted into another. But she also had this sense that it wasn’t exactly that, and though she couldn’t pinpoint it now, she’d be able to later . . . the way she sometimes looked back at a moment she’d experienced in her childhood that she hadn’t known then was the final sled ride down a particular hill, or the last sleepover with her sister on her grandpa’s porch before he passed away . . .
Movement behind a large potted plant to her right broke her from her reverie. She turned and leaned around the foliage to see Rex Lowe sitting in a patio chair that was mostly hidden behind the vegetation-filled planter. “Oh, hi. What are you doing hiding over here?” she asked. She realized the question had come out mildly rude, but he’d surprised her during a vulnerable moment, and though it might be irrational, she felt spied upon.
“I might ask you the same thing,” he returned. She bristled slightly because his comment had hit the target, but the expression on his face disarmed her. It was sort of shy, and just a little teasing, and he appeared nervous, if the way he’d straightened his back and was blinking as he waited for her response was any indication.