Kiss Cam (With A Kiss Book 1)

By: Anie Michaels

Chapter One

Riley

**OMG, you have to hurry back. I think the guy sitting next to me is getting dumped by his girlfriend. AWKWARD!**

I hit Send on my text message and then subtly looked to my right to make sure the man sitting next to me wasn’t reading my screen over my shoulder. Luckily—for me, not for him—he was too busy being dumped to notice I was texting about him.

“I’m just sick and tired of always coming in third on your list of priorities.” His girlfriend was obviously so over their relationship and honestly, just by looking at them, I couldn’t really see why they were together at all. They couldn’t have been more opposite if they’d tried.

He looked like he belonged in Portland—slight scruff of a beard, as if he’d skipped shaving a few days, longish brown hair, baseball-style shirt with sleeves pushed up to his elbows, jeans that looked just tight enough to hug his thighs (which, by the way, were like eye magnets since I hadn’t stopped staring at them since he sat down next to me), and shoes that looked like they’d been worn in the rain. He was attractive, but he wasn’t start-a-fight-in-the-middle-of-a-Renegades-basketball-game attractive.

I came to watch the game. To see the players. To drink the beer. And these people were slowly but surely ruining my night. Well, her more than him.

She was high maintenance. No doubt about it. Her hair was styled. Not just fixed or done, but styled. She’d paid someone to do her hair for the game. Her nails were fake, so were her lashes, and I was sure not all that hair was hers either. Her shoes were completely unrealistic for the stadium, with heels taller than my beer glass. Her halter top was sequined, her pants too tight.

I tried not to appear like I was eavesdropping on their breakup, but I totally was. The Renegades were kicking ass and up by fifteen points, so I could spare a little attention to the drama in the seat next to me.

“We’ve been dating for, like, two weeks. How fast were you expecting to climb ranks, Sophia? I’m not ditching my grandma’s hundredth birthday party to go to your cousin’s husband’s nephew’s bar mitzvah.”

**Seriously, you have to hurry! I think she’s going to throw her drink in his face!**

“Is this how it’s always going to be? If we get married, is your family always going to come before me?”

“Married? Sophia, this is our third date. We’re not getting married.”

My eyebrows spiked toward the ceiling and I couldn’t help but turn to watch her head explode.

“If you don’t see us getting married, then why are we even doing this?”

His head dropped into his hands, elbows resting on his knees. “I have no idea.”

I felt bad for the guy. I almost wanted to pat him on the back and give him some encouraging words. We’re not all batshit crazy, guy with amazing hair and freakishly sexy thighs. Trust me, there’re normal girls out there.

“I can’t be with someone who doesn’t put me first, Camden.”

I heard him take in a deep breath, and then watched out of the corner of my eye as he lifted his head and turned to her. “You’re right, Sophia. You deserve so much better than I can offer. I think it’s best if you leave me behind and move on, try to find someone worthy of all your beauty and grace.”

Sophia was silent for a moment and I desperately wanted to fully turn my head and eat my cotton candy like I was in a movie theater.

“You’re going to regret pushing me away. I’m the best woman you’ll ever manage to get, and you’re just going to let me walk away.” Her head was so high, she was literally looking down her surgically altered, slim little nose at him. She seriously sounded like she was about to splash her Diet Coke all over him. If she ruined my pleather jacket, I was going to freak. “Have fun watching your boring little baseball game.”

Luckily, she decided to take her beverage with her, toddled down the aisle in her five-inch stilettos, and slowly climbed the stairs to the exit. Her boyfriend, er, ex-boyfriend, watched her go for a few seconds, but then let out a huge sigh and then turned back to face the court. He must have noticed my curious stare because he caught my eye. All I could offer was a sheepish smile. The very corner of his mouth turned up in a lopsided smile, but then he looked toward the court once more.

“Dodged a bullet with that one,” I said quietly, mostly to myself, but his head turned to face me again.

“You think so?” His smile was a little fuller, but his question was sarcastic. “She was a setup. Someone my dad wanted me to date. Thought it would be good for my image.”

“You have an image?” My eyes roamed over him; he was still good-looking, but not someone I would peg as worried about his outward appearance. Then he thrust his hand out toward me.

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