“Shit,” he mutters.
Not the reaction I was going for. “Shit? Really?” I twist in his grip, trying to pull myself loose, but he keeps me firmly in place.
“I shouldn’t have.”
“You shouldn’t have?” I shake my head and let out something that sounds like an agitated grunt. Did I imagine the moment? I really don’t think so. Two minutes ago, this stupid jerk wanted to kiss me. “What happened to ‘whatever’? You didn’t seem to have a problem feeling me up in Todd’s living room, in front of Cort.” I place a finger on his chest. “And I kissed you, genius. In case you didn’t notice.”
“I noticed.” He lifts a hand from my waist and runs it through his hair. “But you’re drunk.”
Is that all? He doesn’t want to kiss me when I’m drunk? Relief washes through me. Am I drunk? I don’t think so. I just feel fuzzy. My cheeks are sort of numb and my skin is hot everywhere. Is this what being drunk feels like? “I don’t think I’m drunk.”
“The fact that you’re not sure, means you probably are.” We’re still standing together, locked in our middle school dance position, and all I can think about is kissing his twitchy lips; revealing that smile I can see just under the surface.
“Maybe you should test me.” I pull away from him and walk backward, using my toe to drag a line through the sand. “I was going to say I should walk along this, but I think the fact that I can walk backward in the sand right now actually says a lot more.” I giggle as I hold my arms out to the side, lifting one index finger to my nose and then the other, before walking heel to toe down the sandy line, like people do on cop shows. Like a tightrope walker. The entire time I walk toward him, Cam’s grin grows bigger, and as I reach the end of the line, I cross one foot behind the other and curtsy like a princess.
As I hold up the skirt of my imaginary dress, Cam breaks into a fit of laughter. “I’m sure the police would love that little move. Very cute. Definitely use that some day.”
“I’m adorable. They’d love it.” Cam is still several feet from me, and as we continue to stand apart like this, a tiny twinge of doubt sets in. Maybe he thinks the kiss was a mistake. A temporary error in judgment. Maybe he was just being nice, trying to avoid this without hurting my feelings. If he wanted to, he could have kissed me weeks ago. Maybe he thinks this is a horrible idea. He has to see me at band practices, after all. At school. Earlier, I basically told him to deny our relationship. I know this thing between us is something more than an elaborate friendship. Whether I admit it out loud or not, I do know it. I stare down at my toe, drawing loops in the sand as I nervously chew my lip. Sometimes I wish I weren’t such an idiot.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time I saw you.” His voice jerks me out of my thoughts and I meet his stare. Taking a step toward me, he closes the space between us and reaches for me, gripping my wrist and pulling me the last few inches toward him. He stops me short of crashing into him and holds me there, as his other hand brushes away the hair flying across my face. “Just one stipulation.”
“There are stipulations to kissing you? Like, you have demands?”
“Just one.”
My hands settle on my hips. “I don’t negotiate with terrorists.” I don’t mean it.
“Vee.”
I look up at the dark sky, so I don’t have to look at him. “Fine. What are your demands?”
“If you wake up tomorrow and don’t remember any of this”—he’s giving me a threatening look, but he’s on the verge of smiling—“I’ll have to jog your memory by kissing you.” In the absence of his voice, the sound of the waves fills my ears. “In the middle of the cafeteria. Monday morning. In front of everyone.” He tucks another wild strand of hair behind my ear and his hand lingers on my neck, sending a shiver through me. “And there’ll be no denying … whatever … if that happens. So, consider yourself warned.”
“No forgetting. I promise to remem—” but before I can finish, his lips are on mine again. They’re soft but urgent, warm and wet. I lean into him, our bodies pressing tightly together, and his arms twist around me, trying to pull me even closer. Fingers tangle in my hair and his tongue finds mine. I’ve never been kissed like this before. We’ve waited so long to cross this line, and now that we’re on the other side, I don’t know how to step back. Why did we wait? He bites at my lip and runs his hand up my back, and I decide we might stay like this forever. We’re never leaving the beach. The wind has picked up, and suddenly the sand is pelting us, but I don’t even mind. Until Cam turns his head away and spits, wiping at his mouth.
“Sand is—everywhere.” He laughs and so do I. “This is really sexy.”
I start wiping at the sand caked to my face, but my hands are covered in it too.
Cam makes a futile effort to brush off my cheeks. “I think it’s hopeless.” He kisses me on the lips, which are definitely covered in sand as well. When he pulls away, his lips scrunch up and his tongue pokes out just a little, like a lizard, darting in and out. I think he’s going to spit again, but he doesn’t.
I can’t help but laugh, but I’m also not ready to stop. All I can think about is his lips and his tongue, and my lips and my tongue, and his hands and my hands. The possibilities, the combinations. He wipes a hand across his mouth and lets out a little cough.
I brush my thumb across his mouth. “You really want to spit, don’t you?”
“I really do. I think it’s in my teeth.” He turns away from me and I do the same. We spit in opposite directions. Maybe he was right, and I am drunk. I’m standing next to the guy who gave me the best kiss of my life, and I just spit. I should be horrified, digging myself a deep hole to crawl into. Instead, I’m looking at Cam, while he looks at me, and we can’t stop laughing as we walk along the beach, making the slow trek back to the parking lot, hand in hand.
There’s definitely a storm coming—the air has gotten colder and when a shiver ripples through me, Cam lets go of my hand and wraps his around my hip, pulling me toward him and cradling me into his side. I fit perfectly against him, like I always do. The sounds of bongo drums and acoustic guitar float across the air and I know we’re getting closer to the beach entrance. Closer to reality.
Cam leans down and kisses my hair. No one’s done that before, and somehow, this simple gesture feels like the most intimate thing that has ever happened to me.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
NOW
CAM
If watching Vee playfully flirt with Tad was like getting a root canal—which it was—then watching her wrapped around some random guy is like open-heart surgery minus the anesthesia. I had stopped watching Vee a long time ago, but now my eyes are back on the dance floor. On her. Partly because Logan has long since abandoned her, but also because I’m lacking the self-control to stop myself. I’ve lost count of her drinks, but she’s swaying more than dancing. She’s been dancing with the same guy for a while now, since all the camera crew left. He’s got his arm wrapped around her hip, and they’re headed for the door; I can’t ignore it any longer. By the time I’ve pushed through the now very drunk crowd, I basically have to lunge in front of the exit. Vee looks more like a rag doll than a person, like she can barely keep herself on her own feet.
“Come on, Vee.” I grab her hand gently, and pull her toward me, while this idiot pulls her back toward him. As though we’re going to have an actual tug-of-war over her.
I take a step forward. “Don’t.” I’m a head taller and have thirty pounds on him. And I won’t even consider leaving this club without Vee.
She’s scowling at me, but her eyes seem playful. “I’m just having fun, Cameron.” She says my name slowly, like my name is a swear word.
“Really? Because it looks like you’re just getting dragged out of here by some creep.” I glare at the stranger’s hands still resting on Vee’s hips. “Hands off, man.”
“You’re the boyfriend?”
Vee looks up at him and shakes her head like he’s crazy. “Oh, no, this isn
’t my boyfriend. My boyfriend is the lead singer.”
“We’re both lead singers.” I don’t know why I’m even arguing, and I grab for her hand.
“I want to see the Ferris wheel, Cameron.” She nods to the window where the massive SkyView is blinking, the covered gondola seats moving across the window and out of sight.
“We can go tomorrow, Vee.” I reach for her hand once more and she jerks it away.
“You … ve noright.” Her words are all blurring together. “I don’t wanna go anywhere with you, Cameron!” She’s getting loud and attracting some attention, and her new friend is looking annoyed. He raises his hands in the air and takes a step back. Vee stumbles as she loses his support, and I grab her arms and pull her toward me. Instead of thanking me for keeping her off a MISSING poster, Vee uses her tiny fists-of-fury to nail me in the shoulder. Over and over. All the while telling me how much she hates me. How she wishes I weren’t here. The tour would be perfect if I weren’t on it, and why did I have to make her life miserable? Making her miserable is my life’s work, apparently.
“You have anger management issues,” I say. “You know that, right?” This girl will be the death of me—I throw my arm behind her knee, knocking her off her feet as I scoop her up into my arms. As much as I wanted her to finally explode and just let me have it—I’m just annoyed. And this is nowhere near private.
She lets out a squeak of panic. “You coulda cracked my head open.”
“Not likely.” I smile at her in my arms, just to push her. “Too hard.”
Her mouth is scrunched up like she’s sucking on a lemon. I could tell her how cute she is when she’s mad, and really piss her off, but I don’t feel like dealing with her fists again. We’re making enough of a scene. As I push through a cluster of people gathered in front of the exit, Vee kicks her legs, clipping people with her flailing limbs, squealing apologies of “Ohmigosh. Sosorry. Isallhisfault. I’msodrunk.”
“No shit,” I mutter.
“No one asked you to do this.” Her voice is acerbic, hateful.
“You never have to ask me to do this.” I look down at her body in my arms. “I’m not just standing around while you get dragged half unconscious into the alley by some drunk asshole.”
“He was nice,” she says matter-of-factly.
I roll my eyes. “He was an asshole.”
“How’s Sienna?”
I don’t answer, I just push the bar on the metal door and step out into the hot Georgia night. We’re in the small roadway that runs along The Tabernacle. The huge Ferris wheel spins over us, and we’re so close to the bottom of it, I feel like we’re miniatures. Vee is staring up at the lights, and I think maybe this is over.
Vee’s eyes go back to my face. “How about that girl you kissed backstage, then? How’s she?” I hadn’t even known she was backstage. Of course that’s my luck. Thank you, Universe.
“That was a stupid game, and you know it,” I say. “I would have made out with you, if you weren’t busy acting like I was some kind of monster. So that wasn’t an option, was it?”
She says nothing, and I can feel the irritation growing inside me, burning alongside the drinks. Why does she get to ignore me for days at a time, spend the night making me jealous, and then treat me like an asshole when I save her from some guy who actually is an asshole?
“No snarky comment about how horrible I am?” I ask. “That’s an interesting change.”
She just stares up at me silently, and I keep my eyes focused on the road ahead of me.
When the bus is in view, Vee starts twisting, trying to stand up on her own. I let her legs go, letting them drop to the ground, my other arm still wrapped around her waist, holding her up. Her chest is pressed up against me, her face so close our noses are almost touching, and there’s a feeling between us I don’t quite recognize. The sweetness we had before is gone. There are no “I love you”s, no forehead kisses or gentle touches. She takes a deep breath, and I can feel it against me; the air trapped between us.
I turn us toward the building and walk her backward, my eyes locked on hers, until the brick wall of The Tabernacle stops us. Until all I can feel is her body. I feel the weight of her against me as her back hits the wall. My hand goes to her hip, roughly pulling her closer. I’m going to remind her how good we were. I run my hand down her leg, feel her slick dress turn to bare skin, and she gasps. I brace myself for her to tell me I’ve gone too far. We’re not us anymore. “Vee—” My voice is hoarse and tense, as I dare her to look me in the eyes when she tells me she doesn’t feel the same way I do. But her wide eyes aren’t on me. They’re on the blinking red light at the end of the alley, pointed right at us.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THEN
CAM
By the time we walk back to the party, Vee looks like she’s ready to curl up on the sidewalk and go to sleep. We collect Anders and Cort, who made up sometime while we were on the beach, and if I didn’t think Vee would kill me, I’d leave them here. The last thing I need is the two of them going all Discovery Channel on my living room couch. Vee climbs onto my back, and I walk the three blocks to my apartment with her wrapped around me like a half-asleep baby monkey.
By the time I get her to my room, she’s dead weight. I sit down, letting her drop onto the bed behind me. She’s still wearing her wet clothes, and water is bleeding all over my blue comforter.
“Vee?” She’s lying motionless on the bed, her legs still dangling over the edge. I shake her lightly but she doesn’t move. Shit.
I walk out to the living room, hoping Anders and Cort are still decent. “Hey, Cort, can you come help me?” The two of them are sitting on the edge of the couch.
“You propositioning my girl, Fuller?” He’s joking, but his voice doesn’t have the same arrogant confidence it usually does.
“Definitely not.” I wave Cort over to my room. “I just need to borrow her for a second, to help Vee.” I turn to Cort. “Can you just get her undressed?” I hand her one of my shirts and a pair of boxers. “She’s soaking wet.”
Her eyes narrow and she tips her head to one side. “You’re not wet.”
“Long story. Will you please just—” I thrust the clothes at her.
Cort winks at me as she pushes past me. “I’m sure she’d rather you did it.”
“I’m not risking getting my ass kicked in the morning.”
“Probably a smart choice.” Just short of the bed, she turns back to me. “But I’ll be the one doing the ass kicking, if you screw this up.” Cort is small and dainty—barely five feet—but she seems like the kind of girl who would exact revenge. There’s this gleam in her eye that says she’ll carve her name into the side of your car if you give her a reason. Or an excuse. I grab a glass of water from the kitchen and fish the Tylenol out of a cabinet.
Cort drops back down onto my couch, which Anders has pulled out into a bed. “All set,” she says.
Vee is tucked under the covers and I crawl in, staying as far from her as I can. There’s a good chance I’ll wake her if I have a nightmare. I didn’t think this through. As much as I want her in my bed, want her closer to me more than I should, it reminds me of the last time I slept in the same bed with someone. And I’m all the more certain I’ll be waking her up when those memories inevitably invade my sleep.
* * *
I wake up and I can’t figure out why it’s foggy. I’m sleeping in the guest bedroom; Sienna is next to me, lying in just her tank top and panties. The covers are pushed down all around her. My vision is hazy. It’s so warm, even for March in northern California, and the strangest fog is hanging over us. It drifts toward the bed, wrapping around me, and as I yawn it invades my lungs. I cough, harder and harder, until I’m finally awake, finally thinking, and throw the covers off of me. Everything is quiet except for a soft rushing and clicking sound.
“Sienna!” I push her roughly and she startles, disoriented. I grab her arm, pulling her off the bed with me as I make my way to the door.
“Cameron.” She pushes me away as she tumbles off the bed. “What the hell?”
I edge toward the door and touch the knob, hesitantly. I’m not sure if it’s warm or if it’s me—heated from sleep—but it doesn’t seem hot. It’s not scorching my hand but it’s definitely warm. Do I open it? Sienna is behind me, wrapped around my arm, her chest pressed up against me as I start to turn the knob, easing it open slowly. Smoke billows in thickly from the hallway and I slam the door shut as Sienna screams, pulling at my arm roughly.
I look at the nightstand, remembering that I left my cell behind when we left my room. This guest room—my sister Maggie’s old room—has a bigger bed than my tiny twin. “Give me your cell,” I say, grabbing her by the arm and pulling us both toward the window.
“It’s—it’s—I don’t have it.” She’s digging through her backpack next to the bed. “It’s in your room. It must be. Or in the kitchen?”
“Fuck.” I run to the window, unlocking it and shoving it open, letting in a gust of air. It’s windy—really windy—and it feels amazing against my hot skin.
“Cameron, the door.” Smoke is coming in heavy through the cracks, the air getting thicker and thicker with hazy gray.
Hunched low, I scramble to the door. “Give me the sheet!” I’m kneeling on the floor, the hot smoke against my bare knees, waving my hand in the air behind me. Sienna pulls at it frantically, removing the flowery yellow fabric and shoving it in my direction. I cram it under the door, filling the small crack with the soft fabric. Sienna is sobbing, her shoulders heaving up and down as she looks from the door to the window.
Love Songs & Other Lies Page 13
