I took a shower—second of the day.

Cleaned up the apartment and then changed my outfit three times, which was really stupid, because I ended up settling on a pair of yoga pants and a long sleeve shirt. Then I spent an ungodly amount of time coaxing my hair into manageable waves that fell down to the middle of my back. I put some makeup on, scrubbed it off entirely, and then reapplied.

By the time there was a knock on my door, I wanted to slam my head through a wall.

Cam looked like he always did as he stepped into my apartment—absolutely, disgustingly divine. Dressed in worn jeans and a shirt with some long-forgotten band name on it, he had the baseball cap on, pulled low. In one hand was a stack of DVDs and in the other was a bag that smelled like Chinese.

My stomach grumbled. “Oh! What you got in there?”

“The stuff dreams are made of.”

Making grabby fingers, I grinned. “Shrimp stir fry?”

“Yep.” He handed the bag off and I rushed into the kitchen like a starving kid. “I brought a couple of movies over. Had no idea what you’re in the mood to watch.”

Pulling out dishes from the cabinet, I glanced over my shoulder. Cam took his cap off and ran a hand through his hair. The dark waves were an adorable mess. He caught me looking and his lips tipped up on the side. I looked away, flushing. “So, um, what did you bring?”

“Let’s see…. We’ve got a good selection here. In the horror movie genre, I’ve got the last two Resident Evil movies.”

“Two movies?” I placed the plates on the counter.

He chuckled. “You’re not getting rid of me easily.”

“Damn it. What else do you have?”

“In the comedy department, I have the latest Vince Vaughn and Will Ferrell movies. For action, I have a James Bond flick and another where a bunch of shit blows up. And I have The Notebook.”

I whipped around, almost dropping the silverware. “The Notebook? You own The Notebook?”

Cam stared at me blankly. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, nothing is wrong with that. Its just such a… uh, chick flick.”

“I’m confident enough in my masculinity and sexuality that I can say that Ryan Gosling is just dreamy in this movie.”

My jaw hit the floor.

The blank expression slipped away and he started laughing. “I’m joking. I don’t own The Notebook. Never watched it. Didn’t bring any romance movies.”

I rolled my eyes. “You douche.”

Cam laughed again.

“I’ve never watched The Notebook either. Not big on romance flicks,” I admitted, opening the huge cartons.

“Really? I thought every girl has seen that movie and can quote it at a drop of a hat.”

“Nope.”

“Interesting.”

“Not really.” I grabbed a spoon. “How much do you want?”

“Get what you want and I’ll make do with whatever is left over.” He walked up behind me, and I stiffened. Tiny hairs rose on the back of my neck. I shifted so I was standing sideways. He tilted his head to the side. “You are so jumpy.”