My stomach grumbles in response. "I'll be down in a minute."
Chapter 6
Turner picks up a piece of chalk and writes on the board as he speaks. "Your next assignment is to create a one-page sports section for the newspaper. You must photograph at least three sporting events and they must be accompanied by a one to two paragraph article."
Several groans rise up from the class, mine among the loudest.
"This is a photojournalism class. I realize most of you are in here for the photography aspect, but you do need to know how to string together a sentence or two, especially if it means the difference between your work getting published or not." He turns to face us and his eyes settle on mine. "You have ten days to work on this project and I can help you with the writing portion," he scans the room and smirks, "as long as you aren't calling me at home the Sunday night before it's due."
Several people laugh.
"We'll go over the details of the final project next week, but in the meantime, here's a list of all the games from today through next weekend." He hands a stack of papers to the person at the head of each row and returns to his desk. "I'm giving you two weekends since I know how busy your social lives are." He rolls his eyes. "But don't put it off until next weekend. Try to get at least one in tonight or tomorrow."
I glance down the list. Track. Ugh. Football. Also not my thing, but at least there will be lots of other people there. Soccer. Amelia has a crush on Trace so I'm sure she'd go to that with me. Maybe I can do two during the week and save football for next weekend.
The bell rings and students file past me.
"You doing anything after school?"
I startle at the deep voice next to me. "Cam, you scared me!" I grab my bag and we walk to the door. "Just homework, why?"
His dark hair falls over his forehead as we step into the hall. He seems to hesitate.
I stop. Since when does he not just spit out whatever he's thinking? "You okay?"
He turns to face me and rubs the back of his neck. The tendons in his forearm flex and my gaze flits to his bicep.
I shake my head. What the fuck?
"I thought maybe we could go for a drive or something."
"Sure," I say without understanding where this is going. We've gone for drives before, but it usually just happens. He's never actually asked me.
"Do you wanna meet by your car after class?" His eyes dart over my shoulder and he bites his lower lip. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he's nervous.
I reach out to touch his bare arm, but hesitate. My hand falls back to my side. "You sure you're okay?"
A small smile lifts the corner of his mouth as he watches my hand twitch at my side. "I could use a friend right now."
Right. Because we're friends. Something is seriously wrong with me today. "Yeah, but can we take your car?" I tap my forehead with my finger.
"Again?" His smile fades and my gut clenches. I don't need more people worrying about me. Especially Cameron. He has enough on his mind right now.
"I'll be fine. But it's probably better if you drive this afternoon."
Don't need to flicker in the middle of what looks like will be a serious conversation.
*****
The rest of the day drags—one more reason I don't want to flicker after school, especially on a Friday—and I'm already on my feet when the bell sounds.
Amelia's waiting at my locker. "You still coming over tonight?"
I shove my books in my bag and slip into my jacket. "Cam asked me to go for a drive." She raises an eyebrow and I hold my hands up in mock surrender. "I have no idea. I'm guessing he wants to talk about his sister."
"Then you definitely have to come over tonight. Besides, we need to plot how I can get Trace to notice me." Her eyes drift down the hall to where Trace's locker is. He has a game tonight and so is most likely already on a bus to whatever high school they're playing, but that doesn't stop her from looking for him.
"Have you talked to him?" Amelia is shy when it comes to meeting people, but once you get her talking it's impossible not to love her.
"I've smiled at him a couple times but he's always with a group of friends. I can't go up to him unless he's by himself."
I remember the list of games from photo class. I could do a feature on a player. And I'll need an assistant. "I might be able to help you there." She opens her mouth but I step backwards and laugh before she can ask. "I'll tell you about it tonight. Just have the popcorn ready."
*****
Cameron's car is easy to spot, and not because the parking lot is half empty by the time I get there—he’s the only student brave enough to drive an orange car. He's not there yet so I climb onto Old Berta's hood and watch the leaves dance over the faded yellow lines.
This sudden shift in the way I'm reacting to him has me off-balance. It's hard to miss the fact that he's hot. Besides his perfect arms and perfect hair, he's got long legs and strong hands and—
Jesus Christ, what is wrong with me? It's never been like that between us. Cameron's been in my life since we were kids. We're Cam and Biz. Friends. Nothing more.
"You look like you're arguing with yourself in your head."
I look up in surprise, my hands still waving in front of me, and my stomach flips. Cameron's standing a couple feet in front of me, his arms crossed over his chest and a full smile spread across his face. Oh yeah, he's got a killer smile, too.
"What's got you so worked up?"
"Worked up?" My voice squeaks and I blush. Stop it! It's just Cameron.
He cocks his head, pausing a beat before unlocking the passenger door. "I know we're here because I want to talk, but is there something you need to talk about?" His expression grows serious and he touches my arm. Electricity zings to my elbow.
I glance at his fingers resting lightly on my sleeve. Watch as he fingers the fabric. My mouth suddenly goes dry. What was the question?
"Biz?" he says, lowering his head until he's looking close into my eyes. "Are you okay? Is your headache that bad?"
I shake my head, wincing at the stabbing pains that protest the sudden movement. "No, sorry. I just lost my train of thought for a second." I move past him and climb into the car. Flashing a smile, I try to play off whatever the hell is going on inside me.
He pushes the door closed and lopes around to the driver's side.
Once we're on the road I force a couple deep breaths and risk a peek at Cam.
One hand is perched on the top of the steering wheel, the other on the gearshift—one more thing on the hotness meter—and he's watching me out of the corner of his eye. "I thought you were gonna pass out. Should I just take you home?"
I've passed out on him before, so it's a fair question. I slap my cheeks and roll my shoulders, making him laugh. "Nope, I'm good to go. No passing out here."
He smiles again, and his dimple winks at me. "Good."
We drive in silence until we reach the boat ramp near his house. A lot of kids party here at night, but right now it's deserted. He kills the engine but doesn't move.
I'm not sure if I'm supposed to say something or just wait him out. This uncertainty around Cameron is new to me and I feel like saying the wrong thing would undo whatever seems to be going on. After what feels like eons I open my mouth to speak, but snap it closed when he releases the steering wheel and folds his hands behind his head.
But he still doesn't say anything.
Can I get a clue for $200, Alex?
Cam exhales and leans his head against the seat so he’s facing the top of the car.
"Cam?" My nervousness fades, replaced by my earlier concern. "If you don't want to talk about it, we can just hang out here. Or do you wanna go sit by the water?"
He lowers his gaze and stares out at the lake. Ripples break the surface, sending flashes of light bouncing into my skull. "Yeah."
We slam the doors behind us and crunch over the gravel towards the water's edge.
He touches my jacket then glances down at h
is bare arms, as if realizing for the first time that he wasn't wearing a coat. "I think I have a blanket in the trunk. Hold on."
And the butterflies are back.
"Sorry for dragging you all the way out here to talk." Cam spreads out the blanket and I sit on one side. He leans back on his hands, his legs stretched out in front of him.
"You know you don't need to apologize to me." I pull my knees tightly against my chest and wrap my arms around them. Whatever has shifted inside me seems to have a mind of its own and I don't want to risk doing something stupid when Cam clearly just wants to talk.
"You've probably figured out that this whole kidnapping thing is hitting me hard."
So that is what this is about. But being right doesn't make me feel as good as it normally does. Instead I feel worse.
"I don't know if it's the fact that they're the same age, or what, but I haven't been able to think of anything but Katie since yesterday." His voice breaks when he says his little sister's name.
I fight the urge to touch him, to comfort him somehow. "I've been thinking about her too."
He faces me. "You have?"
"Well yeah. It'd be impossible not to. I remember how awful it was. I've been worried about how this was affecting you."
His lips tighten in a firm line and he stares straight ahead at the water.
I really don't want to make him cry, but I can't exactly change the topic. "What have your parents said?"
"Not much. It's been really quiet at home, like we're all afraid to say her name."
"You shouldn't have to do that."
"What else are we supposed to do? It's not like we have a grave we can visit when we're feeling sad. My mom finally put away her toys and stuff but her room is still her room." He leans forward and pulls his legs towards his body. "It's like we're still waiting for her to come home."
I want to ask if the police have contacted him, but I’m afraid to go there. Instead I let my hand drift towards his. We've never actually held hands before, but I don't know what else to do.
His head jerks towards me, then his eyes drop to our hands. He doesn't move for several seconds. I'm about to pull away when he laces his fingers through mine. His warmth seeps through my skin and it's as if he's heating my entire body through the palm of my hand.
"Can I do anything?"
His other hand covers mine and the hurt lifts from his eyes. "You being here is all I wanted."
I can't tear my eyes away from his mouth. How have I never noticed his lips before? The fact that he's sitting much closer than he normally does and for the first time in a long time we're both single might have something to do with it. Not that he's thinking about that right now. I close my eyes, still not quite believing Cam is the one holding my hand and making me want to be kissed more than I ever have before.
A car horn blasts in the parking lot and we both jump. Embarrassed, I pull my hand from his, but Cameron seems unaware of what I'm thinking and continues to watch the river in silence.
Laughter erupts behind us as a group of our classmates get out of the car. "Sorry to interrupt!" one of them shouts, and more giggles follow.
Cam shakes his head. "Do you want to get out of here?"
"Only if you do. It'll be hard to talk with them right there." Even though talking is hardly what I'd like to be doing. And that definitely can't be done with them ten feet away.
Cam answers me by standing. He holds out a hand to help me up.
I slip my hand into his and I get another jolt.
He pulls me to my feet. "What are you doing later?"
"Going to Amelia's to watch movies." And talk about you. He drops my hand to pick up the blanket and I start walking to the car. I'd rather stay with him, but considering how well I seem to be doing with guys lately, maybe it's better that nothing actually happened. I'd hate to jeopardize our friendship for a quick make-out session.
If only I believed that.
*****
Cam turns on his mp3 player and the latest FloMo song fills the car.
I cast a sidelong look at him. He knows she’s my favorite singer, but did he play it on purpose or was that just what came next in his playlist? And why am I suddenly so obsessed over this? An exasperated sigh rushes past my lips. It's pretty bad when you're annoying yourself.
Cam seems unaffected by whatever happened at the lake. Maybe it's all in my head. I know he's thinking about his sister, and I'm a little jealous that he can turn off those emotions so easily. Not that I'm envious of what he's thinking about.
Okay, seriously. I need to just shut up.
"You're doing it again."
My head whips at him. "Doing what?"
"Arguing with yourself."
I blush.
"Are you going to tell me what's you're so frustrated about?"
I think fast. "Just our assignment for class. I figure I'll go to the football game next week, and probably a soccer game with Amelia, but I'm not sure about the third." I rub my hands over my thighs to dry the sweat that's suddenly seeping from every pore in my body. "What ones are you going to?"
"Probably football. And maybe soccer." My stomach flips. "Do you want to go to the third one together?"
I smile. "You mean once we know which one it is?"
He slows as the car in front of us makes a turn. "I figure track'll be easy."
Dammit! I wasn't paying attention to where we're going and now we're practically to the Strand. I close my eyes and hope he doesn't notice.
"Plus we can probably get pretty close to the runners. Not like with the sports that play on a field."
My hand slides over my eyes and I force a deep breath. Nothing's tingling, but freaking myself out makes it hard to tell if I'm going to flicker.
"I think there's a meet on Tuesday."
I don't want to, but I lean forward. Cam wouldn't know if I flicker, and it wouldn't be all bad to repeat today, but I don't want this moment to end. We'll be past it in another minute, then everything will be fine.
"Biz?"
Crap.
"What the hell? Why didn't you tell me?" His hand is so light on the back of my head I can hardly tell he's touching me. The car slows and I sit up straight.
"No, don't stop. I'll be fine in a minute."
"How can you be fine in a minute? I'm pulling over."
Stopping in the Strand doesn't mean I'll automatically flicker. When we're stopped it's just like being anyplace else. But eventually we'll have to start up again.
Gravel crunches as the car rolls to a stop. I open my eyes and take a quick breath. Cam is leaning close, his dark eyes just inches from mine.
This probably wouldn't be the best time to kiss him.
"You're freaking me out. Are you sure you don't need help?"
"Cam, how many times have I told you? My headaches… they come and go. I know it seems weird but I've learned to live with them." I will a smile to my lips. My head is ready to split in two, but I'm not lying about learning to deal with the headaches. They're a part of my life and I can either hide in my bedroom or live my life.
His hand lowers to the back of my neck and I mentally beg him to rub out the knots. Yeah, I was all nerves two seconds ago, but I become a massage whore when a migraine's got a hold of me. I don't care who you are; if you'll make the pain go away—even for a couple minutes—I'll love you forever.
His fingers trace the bumps of my spine, a gesture that would have turned me into a puddle if I wasn't so focused on making the pain go away.
"Cam, I'm okay. I swear." I reach up and place my hand over his, but my telepathy fails and he lowers our hands until they're resting on the edge of my seat.
"I wish I knew what was going on inside your head."
You and me both.
He turns my hand over, his thumb rubbing small circles on the back of my hand. "I guess sitting here doesn't really do much if you do need help. You sure you just want to go home?"
"Yeah." I don't, but I really should lie down before
going over to Amelia's house. Something tells me it's going to be a long night.
He tries to hold my hand for the rest of the drive, but the stick makes it difficult. After the third attempt we both start laughing, and whatever weirdness may have hovered between us is left at the Strand.
My nerves slam into me all over again when we pull into my driveway. He seems to be working up the nerve to say something, but I cut him off with a quick kiss on the cheek. "Call me tomorrow and we'll figure out the other game."
A hint of color floods his cheeks. "I will."
I bounce from the car happier than I've been in a long time. Even before Robbie. Maybe things are finally picking up for me.
Chapter 7
I open the front door and freeze. From the kitchen I hear a spastic knocking, like something's hitting one of the chairs and making it scrape across the tile floor.
"Dad!"
My mother's voice murmurs over the banging.
I sprint to the kitchen.
My dad's sprawled on the floor, seizing, his legs slamming into a chair with each uncontrolled convulsion. Mom's cross-legged on the floor with his head loosely cradled in her lap, the phone wedged against her shoulder.
My body reacts without thinking. I kick the chair across the room and lightly grip his ankles. Restraining him is pointless; I just want to keep him from hurting himself.
"Biz, this one's bad. Be care—"
A violent spasm grips his leg and his slippered foot catches me in the chin.
I fall backwards, stunned.
Everything goes dark and the only sound is a low hum coming from deep inside my head. Then the headache rages forward and the room clears.
"Are you okay?" The phone clatters to the floor, forgotten.
That's a first. I reach for Dad's feet but this time I throw my legs over his. "Yeah, I'm great."
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