I squeeze his giant hand in mine. “Remember when we couldn’t do this?” I swing our hands between us, choosing to stifle my overly enthusiastic pheromones. “Nothing but dark corners.”

“Not that there was anything wrong with dark corners,” he admits, and I feel my face flush. Cameron’s pheromones clearly missed the stifling memo.

Fuck it.

“I prefer open fields.”

He throws his head back with a groan. “Peaked at eighteen.”

“You did have a pretty strong game,” I admit.

“Did I ever tell you I got my first speeding ticket that day?”

“No!”

He nods, squeezing my hand once and licking around his cone before swallowing. “Earlier. Lyle was such a tool that day, I swear he knew something was up. He kept messing up his lines and we got out super late.”

“I remember.”

He continues. “Well, to top it off, I’d already told you I had a spot worked out, right outside town. And I did, but I freaked out that it would be taken, so I wanted to run out after work and save it.”

“With a blanket?”

He shrugs. “I was nervous.”

“Me, too,” I admit. “So, you drove out?”

“I did. Floored it the entire way. I made it, laid the blanket down, and then on my way out, I was pulled over for speeding.”

“Were you speeding?”

“Hell yeah. I was out of my mind. I was about to have sex!” he stage-whispers the last word and I burst into giggles. “With Shelby fucking Springfield!”

I’m laughing-crying at his pure expression. I can just picture him, ten years younger.

“I didn’t even try to get out of it. I was all, ‘Yes, officer. Go ahead. I messed up. Do your worst.’ But the cop must have been able to tell I was in a hurry and thought I wasn’t taking it seriously, so he gets pissed.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah.” His expression is churlish. “So, I’m trying my best to look contrite.” He points his cone to his chest. “Child actor, right? Should have been cake. Meanwhile, I probably have a raging boner because…”

“Because you’re about to have sex for the first time!” I’m dying.

“Exactly. Now I have the self-awareness to be humiliated, but right then, I just wanted to get back to you before you changed your mind.”

“I wasn’t going to change my mind.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t,” he admits.

“Cam,” I say softly. He turns to me. “I made my mind up about you basically the moment we met.”

He swallows. It’s the barest of movements, but I can tell he’s finally starting to see.

Thank Jesus, because I’m laying this on pretty thick. Like, weeks of pathetic Shelby being all “Hello? Over here! I AM YOURS.”

“Did the cop know who you were?” I ask.

“Oh yeah. He asked me for an autograph for his daughters.”