Cameron's POV:
It takes everything inside me not to jump up when I hear the front door go. I want to rush to her side and make demands, I want to demand explanations, all of which I'm not entitled to. Instead, I swear at the TV as I watch one player foul another.
I feel like I'm counting the bloody seconds before I hear her making her way down the corridor towards us. It takes f*cking forever but when she finally joins us, something inside me settles and a feeling of rightness washes over me.
None of this makes much sense.
I'm not supposed to be interested in her. I'm not supposed to still want her. I'm also not supposed to be bothered by the fact that she spent last night elsewhere. But I do care. I do still want her, and I can't deny that it bothers me that she f*cked that guy last night.
The problem is none of it is any of my d*mned business.