by Leen Elle
He saw it coming the second he watched Imogen walk over to him from across the dance floor. Cameron decided to hang around the bar, and that was exactly where he stood, the counter digging into the middle of his back, his arms up and elbows propped upon the high backs of two chairs next to him.
She seemed to move gracefully, almost ghostlike. Her movements were soft and fleeting, but yet she moved in slow motion. If Cameron hadn't known her, he might have been inclined to call her sexy, but since he did know her, the word didn't enter his mind.
For too long.
"If you think you're tricking me into going up there, you're wrong." He didn't look at her as he shouted the words. His eyes were on the group of girls currently fixing the karaoke microphones to their appropriate heights. Briefly he wondered what terrible song he would next be forced to endure, and just to stave off his headache for a little longer, hoped that it was short and that they were not wholly terrible singers.
Imogen smirked at Cameron, sliding fluidly into one of the seats upon which his elbow rested. His arm dropped into his lap.
"You shouldn't underestimate me, you know."
"I smell a threat here."
She shrugged. "I have my ways."
"And I have mine." His eyes glittered with the challenge.
The bartender motioned to Imogen, asking her if she wanted another drink. She declined. Biting her lip and crossing one leg over the other, she half turned toward Cameron when the group of girls began to sing "Freebird." A good portion of the crowd groaned; Cameron was one of them.
Imogen watched him until he finally scowled at her.
"What?"
She laughed, breaking eye contact for a moment. "I'm just trying to figure out what it's going to take to get you up there with me."
"I already told you," he crossed his arms over his chest. "I am not going up there. No way, no how."
"Okay." She slid down from the chair. The dark, skinny jeans she wore outlined every part of her just so. Cameron gulped and pretended not to notice. Slapping her open palm on the bartop, she said, "You're missing out, you know."
She turned and made her way over to the dance floor, where no one moved. Finally, after the group of girls finished their song, "Baby Got Back" started up and Imogen, along with Sylvia, started to dance wildly while others made their way to the floor.
He kept the cold bottle of the beer close to his lips. His already firm grip around it tightened, reminding him that this was his reality at this present moment. He was horrified when he realized his eyes were glued to Imogen's hips as she swayed and gyrated to the rhythm of the music. She was graceful and alluring in a way which he never saw before. There were certain things about her that he never noticed, and now, standing across the club, watching her without being seen, he wondered just how long all that beauty had been standing right in front of his face.
Cameron blinked rapidly and downed the last of the beer. It went down his throat, hard, and he immediately ordered another one. The bartender complied, slamming another bottle onto the bar.
He tried to look away from her, but he always found his gaze going back to her, like a ship heading toward a lighthouse in the dark night. Out of everyone who surrounded her, she wasn't difficult to lose, despite the sea of sweaty swimming bodies on all sides. It was like she had a light glowing from the inside out of her, and Cameron, unable not to see it, was drawn by a presence there that he could not fathom nor could he comprehend.
Nostrils flaring, he closed his eyes tight, seeing stars and bits of color there behind the lids. This time when he placed the beer bottle to his mouth, he didn't so much as breathe until it was entirely consumed.
He gasped for air afterward. Feeling lightheaded, he grasped for the back of a chair and, finding one, eased himself down into it. Tonight was a disaster; he wasn't even supposed to be drinking.
Then again, Imogen wasn't supposed to look appetizing. Alcohol was the only way to make him forget that he liked this new girl that, somehow, without his noticing much, she turned into.
For all his eye-opening revelations that night, he never noticed that he, too, was being watched. Imogen snuck a look over in his direction every so often- probably too often. Someone's body brushed against her own but she ignored it. She was too focused on watching the way Cameron's entire body slumped into the chair in which he sat, as if he were weary. His head was down, resting in his upturned palms.
The DJ was speaking.
"Very good, very good." He said, clapping his hands together. The crowd followed and there was mild applause. "Up next we have a duet from Grease- 'Summer Lovin''- everyone welcome Imogen and Cameron to the stage!"
Cameron's world spun right before his eyes and then stopped with an audible crunch. His heart dropped into his stomach and he looked up to see Imogen standing on the stage, her hands folded in front of her in an infuriatingly innocent stance. She was smiling in his direction, not able to see him for the lights that shone in her eyes and limited her view to just the few faces closest to the stage.
"Cameron? Where's Cameron in the house tonight?"
The crowd began to look around, trying to find him. They would know him by the obvious deer-in-headlights look they all knew he would be wearing.
"He's a little shy," Imogen spoke into her microphone. "Allow me."
He watched, rooted in place, as she came down the few stairs and made her way to him in a straight line. He wanted to run. His mind was screaming at him to run, but his legs were heavy and his feet felt as if they were anchored to the floor, or as if they grew up from the floor and there was no way for him to pull them up.
If she thought she was going to get him up there she was sadly and sorely mistaken.
The smile she wore made him irate.
"No. No, no, no, no. Before you come any further, no." Cameron held both of his palms up toward her. Finally he was able to move, and he did so, spinning around so that his back was facing her and he rested his weight on his elbows against the bar.
"Don't be such a wet blanket, Cameron. It's fun!"
"My idea of fun does not involve me getting up in front of a bunch of drunk strangers and screeching out some song that no one really gives a shit about in the first place."
Imogen laughed and put her hand on the back of his arm. "You're being overly melodramatic right now. Is it literally going to kill you to do this?"
"Yes," he turned to her. "Yes, it is. It will kill me. I will step foot up there and drop dead right in front of all your eyes. Do you really want to have that on your conscious? Knowing you killed a man?"
She laughed harder this time, throwing her head back.
"Is he coming?" The DJ asked. For the first time, Cameron noticed that the attention of every single person in that bar was on him. He felt his knees go weak and quiver underneath him.
Soon his name was being chanted. Softly and quietly at first, the word evolved to something larger and much more intimidating with every syllable, until it became a drumming thump thump thump which imitated the rhythm of Cameron's own heart. His throat was dry and constricted, his palms damp, his head hot.
Her hand was around his wrist and she was pulling him from the barstool. He went easily, without a fight. His only defense was that he was stunned; if he had been in his right, sober state of mind he would have fought back much harder, he told himself.
"You can do it." Cameron felt Imogen's arm snake up his back, coming to rest on the top of his shoulder, close to his neck. She squeezed him there, for reassurance, as she spoke in his ear. "Just picture everyone in their underwear. We're all here to have a good time, and as long as you have fun, they'll have fun."
The lights were in his eyes. Though conversation buzzed all around him, Cameron was deaf to it. The silence he heard in its place was deafening. The few faces he could see, at his feet, were dark in contrast to the blinding light shining on him from above. There was a murmur in his ears; they felt as if they were attempting to adjust to a pressure change, needi
ng a pop for relief. He looked over at Imogen, not daring now to take his eyes from her. Smiling, she handed him a microphone, and without even knowing he was doing it, Cameron took it in his hands.
I hate you, he mouthed to her. She only laughed in response.
The music started up and Cameron missed his queue. Imogen sang her part, catching his eyes with her own. She motioned for him to sing, but all he could do was swallow in an attempt to rid himself of the grating, dry cotton feeling in his mouth.
Fearing the crowd would turn on them, Imogen laughed and told the crowd to encourage him. They clapped along to the rhythm and he could hear shouts from people he didn't know. His mother's voice was suddenly near, at his feet. He looked down and she was smiling up at him, with her hand on the tip of his shoe.
"Sing, Cameron! Sing!"
He knew he had two choices. One, he could refuse to play along, and walk off the stage right then and there. He could run out the door and make an ass of himself. Or two, he could stay there, sing along, and attempt to have a good time. He knew Imogen was counting on him to do the former, proving to herself and Cameron that he was as uptight as he seemed. Well, she wasn't going to win. He would have to embarrass himself completely, but then again, he thought, no pain, no gain.
Wide-eyed, he looked at Imogen again. Lifting the microphone to his lips took colossal effort, but somehow he managed.
"S-s-she swam by me…"
At his lull in the words, Imogen's eyes lit up and her mouth visibly dropped. Breath rushed out audibly from Cameron's mouth into the microphone and she nodded her head at him, telling him to go on.
"She…ha- she had a cramp." The words were spoken, not sung, but Imogen lifted her arms in the air anyway and laughed with triumph. The crowd followed.
"He swam by me," she sang, making her way over to Cameron and placing her arm across his shoulders. "Got my suit da-amp."
Cameron stumbled to the left when Imogen bumped him with her hips.
"I saved her life, she nearly drowned."
"He showed off, splashin' around!"
Everything blended together in front of Cameron. Soon he could no longer make out individual objects, or people. Words and phrases had no meaning- sound fell together in a mixing bowl and created something indiscernible and new. The only thing he concentrated on were the lyrics he was expected to sing next and the weight of Imogen's arm around him.
She was with him, right beside him, helping him along.
To his surprise, he actually had fun, and to her surprise, she was finally able to coax Cameron out of his shell.
* * * *
Imogen sat at the vanity dresser in her guest bedroom, brushing her hair. She was smiling to herself, going over every single moment from that night. It was currently one am, but she wasn't aware of the time. She wasn't aware that she and Cameron were leaving his parents' house that afternoon, or that she wasn't packed at all. She couldn't have told you the date, or the day, or possibly even her name. Before her eyes, she didn't see her reflection. She barely noticed that she was even in the act of brushing her hair. Her mind was filled with moments from earlier: the moment Cameron started to dance while up on the stage, of his own accord, no less; the moment that glorious, blinding smile made its way to his face when the song ended. Imogen could say with all honesty that she had never before seen a smile more beautiful than the one with which he awarded her after it was all over. The fact that she was the one who put it there made her beam from the inside out.
He even took her hand, helping her down the steps from the stage to the dance floor.
Her insides felt all light and jumbled.
Imogen jumped a little, coming back to reality, as it were, when she heard a knock on her door. Imogen opened it, to reveal Cameron on the other side. He was leaning all of his weight on his right forearm, placed against the doorframe, with his opposite hand in the pockets of his jeans.
He reminded her just then of an undeniably cool Greaser-type.
As for Cameron?
He could never describe the feeling that came over him just then. It was overwhelming and all consuming and it crashed over him like a heavy wave. It wasn't new to him but it had been a while since it came around. He clenched his jaw and let the fingers of his right hand curl into his palm, where he squeezed.
All he wanted to do when he came here was to thank her. The same moments Imogen was busy picturing with the help of her memory were all the things Cameron remembered, with a new sort of fondness, during every step of his trek down the great hall from his room to her room, just a stop on his journey to Alex's bedroom, two doors down.
He let the beauty of the moment- the sweet, tangible, fragile, all consuming-beauty of the moment a boy looks into a girl's eyes and just knows- absorb him and he wondered at why he allowed himself to go so long without experiencing more moments like it. He hated Imogen and loved her at the same time for showing him, without even knowing it (or perhaps she did know it?) that it felt good. It felt good to care for someone, to know someone, to have someone to talk to, to be himself in front of Imogen and to not be judged.
She looked quite pretty, standing in the doorway with her back against the frame, half of her face hidden by the dark shadows in the hallway and the other half illuminated by the soft light from her bedroom. The thick curtain of her hair draped loosely over her shoulders and his fingers itched to engulf themselves within it. She was giving him a curious expression, her eyes glittering and her full mouth pursed; no doubt an unspoken question hung on them.
Cameron cleared his throat and took a hesitant step toward her, raising one of his arms. His movement brought them dangerously close together. She didn't move an inch, but Cameron lost his courage and so took two steps back. Not knowing what else to do, he shoved his hands in his pockets.
That was the way he did everything in life: one step forward and two steps back.
What was he going to say? No. He knew what he wanted to say, had a general idea of what he wanted to tell her, but he didn't have the words. And words are everything when you want to speak to someone.
"What is it, Cameron?" she asked. Her voice was quiet and soft and patient and it wrapped around him comfortably. It took the tenseness Cameron didn't even know he was feeling out of his shoulders and back. He felt an ease infiltrate his body and the tight knot in the pit of his stomach loosened just the tiniest bit.
He shook his head, something he did when he was trying to gather nerve. Cameron ran a hand over his face and laughed a little bit at the ridiculousness of the situation. He couldn't believe that, of all people, Imogen was the one to make him tongue-tied. Hadn't he always had some response to her, even if most of them were just plain rude? And how had she paid him back for the way he treated her, but by being a friend to him, genuinely concerned and ready to listen to anything he might want to tell her.
His cheeks flamed hot red with shame. Whatever he was about to say or do, or whatever he was thinking about saying or doing, would fall almost wildly short of what Imogen had given to him in their short friendship.
Then he saw the smile on her face, crooked and sweet and innocent. The skin around her eyes crinkled and she seemed to emit a glow from the inside out.
He felt comfortable again. He felt resolve.
"I---"
Don't falter. Don't falter, just get the words out. Speak slowly and audibly. She's still the same person, Cameron. She hasn't changed.
"I just---"
He sighed. Words weren't going to cut it. He would have to show her.
Cameron stepped forward again and Imogen raised her head to get a better look at him. He towered above her, his shadow falling upon her face, covering the dim half-light so that her entire face was now engulfed in darkness. He was amazed when his hand slid easily over her jaw, as if it belonged there, gripping her behind the ear. His lips descended until they touched the pillowy-soft skin of her cheek.
He closed his eyes and felt a burning sensation in the places where their b
odies met. It was hard to let go. Cameron's lips lingered on her skin just a split second too long, unwilling to leave now that they collided with her.
"You don't understand, Imogen. The two of us--- it'd be like putting potassium and water together. Don't you know what happens when potassium and water mix? They explode, Imogen. It's bad. Bad all around."
She tilted her head to the side, long hair grazing the side of her arm. "Didn't you ever stop to think that maybe they explode together in a good way?"
Cameron moved back to gauge her reaction. It wasn't exactly what he'd imagined in his head. She wasn't horrified, or disgusted, or even terribly confused. She looked pleased, if a little stunned.
Well, he figured, she had the right to be stunned. She was probably wondering how many beers he'd had that night at the karaoke bar.
"Thank you, I guess." The words were anticlimactic and they rang noisily in the silence which shrouded them. Cameron cringed as soon as he said them. Imogen looked down to hide her smile. She didn't need to hear any explanation from him but he gave it to her anyway. "You know, for today. For this entire weekend. I'm actually… I'm glad I brought you along. I don't know if I'd have left this place sane if you hadn't come with me."
Her smile grew wider and she ducked her head lower.
Cameron blinked, wishing she would look up at him. It was hard for him to guess how well he was doing here. Was he floundering? Had kissing her cheek been a mistake? And now he was ruining everything even more by gabbing on and on like he was some nervous schoolboy. Or was he not saying enough? Did she want him to kiss her again? Somewhere different?
In a split second a thousand images ran through Cameron's mind like a movie reel. His mouth was upon hers, pliant and ready. His hands were around her face. He was stripping her of her clothing, quickly and then slowly, moving over her on the bed…
He shook his head and looked at her with shock in his wide eyes.
Finally, Imogen lifted her chin and looked at him. She smiled. "You're welcome." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Look, I'm sorry for what I said when we first met, about your not growing up in a happy home. It was wrong of me to say and I only said it out of irritation. After getting to know them it's plain to see just how off the mark I was."
