by J. B. McGee
Holden went from being the boy next door to the most beautiful person I’d ever seen, and all I wanted was for him to touch me, to kiss me, to keep me company. In those seconds that felt like minutes, it became so clear to me that Holden had always been my truth, my reality. He said he liked me, and I knew then I liked him too. Kiss the mirror kind of liked him.
That was then, and this is now.
Liked.
Past tense, right?
I stare at the picture we were both looking at hours ago. The one of our families. Who knows what could have become of us. We never got a chance to find out. The shit hit the fan with the adults in our lives, and our friendship—or whatever we were—was a casualty of that.
But tonight, I’ve seen that young Holden. Maybe he never really went away, and maybe I should have fought harder to be a better something to him rather than nothing. In my defense, it’s hard to be something to someone who quits showing interest, who makes you feel like you’re a game they were playing and winning.
Except looking back on it all, I am not sure he was winning. I think we were both winning that Fourth of July weekend. Then, we both lost together, but separately.
Dammit, I wish I had my journal with me from that night when I wrote about us playing laser tag. Then again, I don’t really need it. How could I have been such a fool? I guess I was too young to recognize it.
He helped me don my gear. He checked the vest to make sure everything was fastened properly. My eyes never left his as he fussed over me. Occasionally, he’d look up at me and smile.
At the auction, I talked about how special what Amie and Brendon have is—about how he looks at her. And the whole time, Holden was looking at me the way he did that weekend all the while sitting at our table with the knowledge he was finally getting our date.
Holden’s quick wit responses aren’t anything new, either. Hadn’t he always talked to me like this? Had we been forced to rewrite our history in our minds? No. I’m sure he didn’t rewrite it in his. Just me with the help of my parents telling me what I should and shouldn’t do. How I should and shouldn’t act.
I jump up from the couch, grab myself a bottle of water from the fridge, and start to pace. When was the last time I saw Holden Masters as happy as he was tonight? Was it really after he watched E.T.?
He was smiling, but was he really happy like he was tonight?
No. I don’t think so.
It was that night at laser tag. It started when he patted my vest, handed me my laser gun, and showed me how to shoot it. “Brody and Amie are on one team, and you and I are on another team. Shoot the hell out of ‘em.”
I nodded, lost in his eyes. He was so serious talking about laser tag.
“Cam.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t shoot me.” He smirked.
“I would never do such a thing.”
“Uh huh.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me into the cool, dark room. It wasn’t cold enough in there to cause steam from the warmth of the bodies, so there must have been one of those fog machines. The bass from the techno music competed with my pounding pulse. I wasn’t sure if it was adrenaline or Holden. All I knew was I loved how small my hand felt in his. How he rubbed a circle with his thumb, and I contemplated for a minute if it was possible for us to play laser tag conjoined because I didn’t want him to let go. Couldn’t we just play attached to one another? Shoot one-handed?
But he gave my hand a squeeze and released me. “Go. I’ve got your back.”
I liked the way that sounded. I wanted it to mean more than just laser tag, but that thought was interrupted when my chest started convulsing. What the hell? I heard his voice in my ear. “You’ve been hit.” I jumped. I was sure my heart stopped. Again, I wasn’t sure if it was from the fact I’d been hit and how scary that was or if it was knowing Holden was behind me, breathing in my ear. “Hide over there until it stops.” I’m pretty sure he wasn’t talking about my heart, since the beats had already ceased. He was talking about the stupid vest.
I jumped behind the partition he mentioned and watched as he shot people.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Your turn to have my back. Scoot up behind me. Stay close. I’m gonna get you outta here. Being backed into corners sucks. Good thing you have someone to help you out of them.” We had no idea how much we’d learn about being backed into corners in the coming days, but it was amazing how safe he made me feel in that instance. “Go that way.” He pointed to my left, and he went right. Somehow I ended up face to face with Amie. I screamed. She laughed. “Cam, she was gonna hit you.” But her vest started blinking. I guess Holden got her first. “And by the way, I don’t think she can hear you screaming, which you can stop now because you’re safe.” Before I could look back at him, he was gone. Playing conjoined would have probably been a good idea. I clearly wasn’t great at keeping myself safe. I’d been hit twice, and who knows how many more times if Holden hadn’t rescued me?
Since that wasn’t an option, I wanted to hide behind a wall until this was over. I was hot, bothered, and completely discombobulated by his words and his flirtation. Not to mention, I was convinced my heart would never recover from him or laser tag. It wasn’t like it was instalove. We’d known each other for a long time. It was like the earth spinning. We can’t feel it, but we know it is. And I guess I’d been falling for Holden, but I couldn’t tell until it hit me like an asteroid careening toward me.
As much as I wanted to give up on this stupid game of laser tag, I couldn’t. Holden had my back, and I wanted to have his. I turned to shoot my way across the open area, and before I could pull the trigger, I could read his lips. “Stop. Don’t shoot me, tigress!”
That was the first time he ever called me that. He inched toward me and put his gun over my shoulder and shot someone who was coming behind me. And I did the same for him. We made a hell of a team. Funny that it took a dark arena for me to see the light.
That was the end of laser tag. The music stopped, and he pulled me into a hug. “Good job. I thought for a minute you were gonna kill me.”
The free fall may have taken my hopes to rock bottom, and while I may not have shot him, something had opened my heart. Laser tag had propelled me straight toward him.
Amie and Brody lost.
We won.
Cammie and I could go on a date where all I did was watch her sleep, and I’d be completely content with that. Will I ever sleep if she’s in the bed next to me? Of course, the better question is if she’ll ever be in the bed next to me.
She doesn’t even snore. She’s the perfect sleeper.
She’s the perfect everything.
Of course, if we’re going on a date where I watch her sleep, it should be after I’m fully awake and have had copious amounts of coffee. I was so anxious to get over here, I didn’t stop for some. I’d thought she would be hungry, and we could grab something together before I took her back to her place. It’s not like I didn’t warn her I was a greedy bastard, so I’m all about prolonging the time we spend together this morning.
She stretches and moans at the same time. Her lashes are fanned over her cheeks. She doesn’t even flutter those pretty lids. She had makeup on last night. I told her she didn’t need any of that shit in high school, but I think she ignored me just to piss me off. Last night, she was wearing it. It only enhanced her beauty because unlike a lot of these girls, she keeps it to a minimum. It’s an enhancement, not an alteration. Whatever she had on last night is long gone, though. Her skin is flawless. I suck in a breath because, damn, I just can’t even with her. Fuck my father for screwing this all up.
She moans again, and this time, she pulls the towel up and bunches it under her chin like it’s a blanket. She snuggles it, and I wish it were me she was nuzzling. She just defeated the whole point of me putting that over her.
She’s cute, but shit. Now what? I don’t want to touch that one because I worry if I do, she’ll wake. I tiptoe to the linen cabinet and pull out another towel. She
was sound asleep when I got here, but clearly, she’s not as out of it at this point. I don’t want to wake her. Or scare her. Or have her wonder if I’d do anything to her while she’s fucking asleep. That’s sick. Instead of unfolding the towel completely, I just open it once before placing it over her. There.
When I’m done, I glance back up at her face, and her green eyes are on mine. She doesn’t look shocked or upset. I haven’t seen this expression on her face since I backed away from our almost kiss against her bathroom wall when we were teenagers. What does this mean? This woman confuses the hell out of me. “Morning, tigress.” I grin.
She swallows. Her pulse is beating in her neck. Fast. She’s frozen. Totally unmoved. I refuse to move, either, this time. She’s going to have to finally tell me what she wants—what this face means—after all these years. Maybe if she’d told me back then, we wouldn’t be where we are today. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath to keep myself from kissing her, from touching her.
“How long have you been here?” she says.
That’s not at all what I was hoping for. There’s a part of me that wants to collapse back down in the chair and sigh, but I don’t. I grip my chin in between my fingers, resting my elbow on my crossed arm as I give my head a shake. “That’s not what that face means.”
She sucks in a breath, her words falling out in barely a mumble, “What face?”
“Did you want me to kiss you in your bathroom?”
Her cheeks pink up, but she looks conflicted. “Holden.”
I inch forward. “That’s what you said then. Is that a yes or a no, tigress?”
“Yes,” she whispers. “I did.” It’s like she thinks if she doesn’t say it loud, it will make it okay because it’s definitely not the right answer according to this shitastic situation we’ve managed to get ourselves in. She’s always trying to halfway answer things or evade the question altogether, but that’s not going to work anymore. Not when there’s so much at stake.
“But now, no?”
“Now.” She swallows, her eyebrows arching. “I don’t know.” She pulls the first towel closer to her face, as if it could get any closer to her. “What made you ask about that time in my bathroom?”
“Same face then and now.” I grin because I’m so damn happy. I don’t know is better than no. There’s no doubt our chemistry has only grown as we’ve aged. It’s like oxygen has breathed new life into the nearly snuffed out embers. They’re turning into a raging fire, and damn if I’m not going to make it my mission to see how quickly I can cause an explosion between the two of us.
Her lips finally curve up, but I’m not sure if it’s that she is as content as I am. I search her eyes like they hold the ultimate treasure. Except, they do. I can read her like a book. “Same. Damn. Face. You’re lying to me, Cam. You do know. Admit it.” Yeah. That’s the source of the excitement. Not her words, but rather her actions—the way she responds to me—opens up to me.
She buries her head in the towel this time and screams.
Fully unfolding the new towel to keep her covered, I lift her legs and sit perpendicular to her, her calves resting on my lap. “Why are you screaming?” I pull the other towel from her face. I want to say that I’d rather hear her screaming my name while my cock, not my fingers, are buried inside her. “I wanna see you scream like you did that day when we were playing laser tag.”
“Amie laughed at me. You’re going to laugh at me too.”
I chuckle. “Too late,” I say. I am already doing that.
She glares at me. “See.”
“Why are you screaming, Cam?” I ask, my tone suddenly serious. She’s actually communicating with me, and I don’t want her to clam up on me—to pretend the elephant in the room doesn’t exist because it’s huge, weighs a couple of tons, and is terrifying for her. Because one minute you’re in a relationship, the next you’re in another man’s arms, and then you’re betrayed. It makes me mad as hell just to think about it all. Somehow, though, I don’t think that’s why she’s yelling into the towel like it’s a pillow.
She stops. “Why do you think?” I stare at her, but don’t answer. She’s not turning the questions around to put them back on me. “I wanted you to kiss me then, Holden.”
“So, that makes you scream into towels in frustration?”
She throws it at me. “Shut up. I didn’t think I liked you, but when I kissed the mirror I was disappointed it wasn’t you. I wanted to know what you tasted like, how warm your mouth was, and the smoothness of your tongue.”
My cock wakes the fuck up even though I know there’s a “but” coming. And damn, this grin I’m wearing is probably the cheesiest thing ever.
“You kept sending me mixed signals. It’s not a date, but practice kissing me on the mirror. I like you, but you should probably get the phone so I won’t have to actually kiss you. I’ve got your back, but then when it really counted, you didn’t.”
I rub her legs on my lap. Once again, it all comes back to my father the cock blocker. But. “That goes both ways. How many times did you have my back after that? How many times did you see how I was doing? Cat got your tongue?” I grind my teeth and bite my own goddamn tongue. It’s not her fault. But it’s not my fault, either. Or maybe it is because if I’d been her Romeo, I would’ve gone after my Juliet no matter the consequences. “And I never said it wasn’t a date. I said it wasn’t a double date.”
She tilts her head, her eyes narrowed.
I close my eyes for a second, reliving that moment. “I also meant for you to practice kissing me on the mirror. I’d already planned to come catch you doing it and show you what it was like to do it for real.” When Cammie sucks in a breath, I look at her. Her eyes are watery. Damn, I didn’t mean to make her cry—to make her feel like she couldn’t even look at me. That’s when I realize it’s not that she’s avoiding me. She’s staring at that goddamn picture. “And I didn’t like you.” Her chest rises and falls in a heavy, exaggerated motion, like she lost her breath and she’s trying to find it again. “Look at me.”
She does, and a tear falls.
“I loved you, Cam. I still do.”
She shakes her head. “We were too young for all that. We were just friends. If you’d loved me, you would have fought harder.”
Nodding, I close my eyes. There it is. I let her down. She wanted me to chase her, to be the dude in the Taylor Swift “Love Story” video she was obsessed with. “Would it have mattered? I knew that day you fell at the pool I’d never be able to keep you safe, but I had no idea what was to come. And then I went and broke Brody’s fucking nose right as news was spreading about my father. Ultimately, Cam, that solidified our fate more than what my father did. I wasn’t good enough for you. If I couldn’t keep you from falling, couldn’t keep my cool, how was I ever going to be worthy of your father’s approval?” I shake my head, closing my eyes. “We didn’t know it at the time, but they’d put us together for a reason that day. I was supposed to protect you, to lighten the blow, to give you normalcy. I failed a test I didn’t even realize I was taking. Trust me. It wouldn’t have mattered.”
“Yes. If you’d told me how you felt, it would have made a difference. If you hadn’t completely alienated me then perhaps we could have had some kind of relationship. You were a constant in my life. And then you just pretended I didn’t exist anymore. How do you do that to someone you love?”
I squint and bite my tongue, but decide to just let it all out since we’re finally being honest with each other. “All I did was act the part that everyone expected because I didn’t give a fuck what anyone else thought about me other than you. And I’d already lost you. Do you think for a minute your father would have allowed me to date you after all that shit?”
Cammie nibbles on her lip, but doesn’t say anything.
That’s because there’s nothing left to say.
With every word Holden says, it’s like I’m being stoned…to death. My chest is tightening. It’s taking everything in me to kee
p from letting all the tears escape. His words loop in my mind. All I did was act the part that everyone expected because I didn’t give a fuck what anyone else thought about me other than you. And I’d already lost you.
“Is that some kind of dig?”
He shrugs. “It’s the truth. You care about what people think, and I couldn’t give two shits.”
I’ve missed him, but in a way I feel like I don’t even know him. He never talked like this when we were close. I guess we both got cynical and foulmouthed after we realized we weren’t invisible, the world wasn’t perfect, and the people we trust can hurt us the most. “You can’t tell me you haven’t considered staying with Oliver to save face despite the fact he’s gay and you’re not happy.”
“You don’t know I’m not happy.” Everything in me starts to boil, rising to the top and lifting away the heaviness.
He laughs, but it unnerves me because it’s not sincere. “You are not happy. I knew you once when you were, and you’re not now.”
I point at him. “Knew being the key word there.”
“Pfft. Please. I know you. I think I established that last night.” He turns and stares me down, his lids heavy and those blue orbs almost black from his pupils being so dilated.
“Speaking of last night. You still couldn’t save me from humiliation all these years later. So, maybe you were right about one thing.”
He smirks. “You’re wrong, tigress.”
Looking at him is so easy. So, so easy. And so is talking to him, even about hard stuff. Did I just hear him right? “Excuse me?”
“It’s me.” He winks. When I answered the phone and he said it’s me and then I said excuse me. That time when he became one of my two mes. Everything keeps going back to that conversation on the phone, that time at my house, that date or whatever it was to play laser tag, and the stupid pool. “Damn.” He sighs. “I wish I could go back and rewind time.”
