Nate handed her phone back, grinning from ear-to-ear. “See how easy that was?”
Camille sighed, wishing it really could be that simple. She was about to protest, but Nate was already on his feet, and out the door. She watched his head disappear down the stairs, with Poo hot on his heels. A moment later she heard the front door shut. She peered over the railing to see Poo scratching at the door woefully. Traitor.
Camille glanced at her phone. It was 11:10. Any second the doorbell would ring, and she’d be greeted with Nate’s brilliant smile. She felt her resolve begin to crumble. She didn’t want to be the one to wipe that smile from his face. But she knew telling him about her cancer surely would. Honestly, she was surprised he hadn’t figured it out by now. He’d been in her room, which displayed a Before I Die wall, and a shrine of wigs. As far as she knew, these weren’t normal fixtures in a teenager’s bedroom. And if Nate had really seen her in her bra, he must have noticed her scars. She’d had dozens of surgeries over the course of her treatment. Tiny scars crisscrossed her body like a roadmap of suffering.
Maybe there was something fundamentally wrong with Nate. Poo liked him, which wasn’t normal. And from his ceaseless smile, it was obvious he saw the world through some intense rose-colored glasses. Perhaps losing his brother had distorted his reality—because who in their right mind could possible want Cami?
Ding-Dong. The doorbell pulled Camille from her dark musings. She jammed her camera in her purse and grabbed a jacket before rushing downstairs. Her father poked his head out of his office, still on a phone call.
“It’s just Nate. I’ll see ya later, Dad.”
Her father looked puzzled, but nodded and ducked back into his office. Camille lured her traitorous dog into the kitchen with a treat and scurried back to the front door before Poo could follow. She opened the door and found herself stunned by Nate’s smile. It was brighter than the sun.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he said offering her his elbow. “Shall we?”
Camille was finding it was nearly impossible to say no to Nate. And on a day as sunny and warm as this, she decided to stop trying.
12
Nate
“Oh my God! I seriously don’t know how I’ve survived eighteen years without beignets in my life. Does the rest of the world know about these?” Nate asked stuffing the powdered pastry into his mouth.
“I’m pretty sure they do.”
Nate continued to cram large sugary bites into his mouth.
“Which beignets do you like better? Café du Monde or Café Beignet?” Camille asked.
“That’s like asking me which parent I like better.”
She laughed. “Fair enough.”
“Just to be sure, though. I think you need to take me to every place that serves beignets in New Orleans.”
“That might take a while.”
Nate grinned, knowing full well his face was covered in powdered sugar. “Good.”
Camille had taken Nate to the famous Café du Monde as promised. But instead of sitting beneath the iconic green and white stripped awning with the tourists, she led Nate up to what she called, the best seat in the house—the Moon Walk.
The beautiful riverside promenade curved along the Mississippi River, dotted with benches to enjoy the view while the gentle breeze offered relief from the constant humidity.
“So this is the place, huh?” Nate asked from his spot beside her on the sun-bleached bench.
Camille seemed lost in thought. “Huh?”
“Where you want to go swimming?” Nate prodded.
“Oh. Yeah.”
“Well,” Nate licked the grease and sugar from his fingers. “There’s no time like the present.”
He was on his feet, pulling his shirt over his head when he felt Cami’s hands on his chest. “Whoa. No way,” she yelped, pushing him back toward the bench.
“I thought you said you wanted to go swimming.”
“I do, but not now.”
“Why not?”
Camille seemed to notice her hand was still on his chest. It hadn’t slipped Nate’s mind for a moment. Feeling her hand above his heart only made it beat faster. He wondered if she noticed.
“I have a plan,” Camille huffed. “And it doesn’t involve swimming today.”
“Do you have a plan for everything?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well that doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“Not all of us can just do whatever we want whenever we want to, Nate.”
“Sure we can,” he said kicking off his shoes and scooping Camille into his arms.
She squealed but looped her arms tightly around his neck as he headed for the river. There was a wide set of stairs leading straight into the water, as if daring them to walk right in—challenge accepted.
Nate marched toward the stairs with Camille in his arm.
She started to squirm. “Nate! Nate! No! We can’t do this.”
Nate only grinned at her, his face inches from hers. “Cami, it’s time to live a little.”
Cami
Camille was shaking as Nate descended the staircase to the river. She could see trash collecting in the weeds below the levee wall. He wasn’t going to do it. He was just trying to scare her. He’d probably get right to the edge and stop.
She’d seen enough teen romance movies to know this was all part of the flirting process. Scare the girl you like so she holds you a little tighter. Camille cursed herself, realizing she was playing right into Nate’s hands. Her grip on his neck was practically lethal.
3 steps to the water. 2 steps. 1 . . . He was going to stop. He had to stop!
That’s what a normal guy would do. But Nate was definitely not normal. When he stepped onto the last submerged step Camille screamed.
“Nate! Stop.”
“I’ve got you, Cami.”
He took one more step and they were in the river! The step dropped them down to Nate’s waist and Camille shrieked, practically climbing up him like he was a beanstalk. Her legs were wrapped around his waist now and her arms clamped so tightly around his neck that his face was buried in her chest.
“Cami, I’m not complaining about the view, but I sorta need to breathe here.”
“Nate, this isn’t funny!”
“It sorta is,” he said smirking up at her.
“My phone is soaked,” she yelled.
“Mine too.”
“And my boots! These are my favorite boots!”
“Cami, those are just things. Things can be replaced. But this,” he said letting go of her with one arm, so he could gesture to the river. “This is living!”
She gripped him tighter. “Do not let go!”
“I’ve got ya.”
“You’re insane!”
“I know. It’s fun, right?”
“Fun?”
But before Camille could reply, Nate took another step into the river, submerging them completely. She was shivering from fear and exhilaration.
Nate’s eyes were shining. “Ready?”
“For what?”
“We’re gonna swim. Unless . . . you weren’t lying about the knowing how to swim thing, were you?”
“No.”
“Good. Then let’s go.”
“Where?”
“To the next set of stairs.”
“But—”
Nate had already let go of the railing and they were moving. Standing still against the current was impossible. They bobbed as the water got deeper until they were floating at a steady pace.
“Cami, we gotta swim. We’ll both sink if you keep holding onto me like this.”
Panic ripped through her and she shook her head rapidly. “I can’t. I can’t.”
“Yes you can. Give me your hand. I won’t let go.”
Camille looked into Nate’s bright eyes. The sun sparked off the gold flecks, making them glow. “I won’t let go,” he repeated.
It was as if those four little words had awoken some unknown source of
bravery within her heart. She nodded and untangled herself from Nate, letting the churning Mississippi cradle her as they drifted down the river.
“Swim,” Nate yelled, grinning like a fool.
She did.
“Kick your feet.”
She did that too.
“That’s it! Wahoo!” he screamed. “This is livin, Cami! No plan, just livin!”
She couldn’t help but laugh. Her heart was soaring. She was doing it, swimming in the Mississippi River. This wasn’t at all how she’d planned it. She’d been saving this task for last. Because Nate was right, the river was terribly polluted and Camille wasn’t all that sure her weak immune system could handle it. She’d planned on going for a swim closer to graduation in case she got sick from the polluted water. But as she swam, her hand tight in Nate’s, Cami suddenly didn’t care that he’d blown her plan to smithereens. This was much better than the way she’d planned it.
The sun sparked off the water like glitter on glass. Seagulls sang overhead, and every time Cami looked over, Nate grinned back at her. He howled like a crazed Teen Wolf fan.
“Come on, let me hear you!” Nate howled again, and this time Cami joined him.
“See I knew you could go off script. You can thank me later,” he teased, blowing her a kiss.
Camille splashed him. “Let’s keep going.”
“I’ve created a monster!”
“There’s another set of stairs under the bridge. We’ll climb out there.”
“You sure?” he asked.
She nodded. “Just don’t let go.”
“Never.”
13
Cami
Camille and Nate dripped all the way back to the stairs where he’d first carried her kicking and screaming into the river. He still hadn’t let go of her hand, and secretly, she hoped he wouldn’t. She couldn’t stop giggling. Camille couldn’t believe she’d done something so wild. A few tourists even gave them hi-fives as they walked by. She couldn’t remember that last time she’d felt so bright and alive.
“I’m pretty sure we’re on YouTube right now,” Nate said, grinning spectacularly.
Camille bumped him with her shoulder. “You’re a bad influence.”
“Just you wait.”
When they got back to the bench, Camille let out a sigh of relief. Her camera and purse were still under it with Nate’s shirt, shoes and half eaten bag of beignets. She set her sopping boots on the ground and picked up her Polaroid camera.
“Come on,” she said, tugging Nate toward the stairs.
“Are we going again?”
“No, just come here.”
Camille led Nate back to the partially submerged stairs. They stood in murky river water and she faced him, moving closer until their bare toes were touching. Cami aimed the camera down and clicked a shot. They waited, nearly chest to chest, for the image to appear.
“I want one,” Nate said, his breath tickling her cheek.
She moved a bit closer and snapped another picture. They sat down on the stairs, stretching out in the sunshine. Both of them comfortably silent, listening to the roar of the river and the call of the sea birds.
“I miss the water,” Nate said after a while.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s different here. In California, the ocean is everywhere. It’s like the whole state has this constant breathing sound from the push and pull of the waves.”
Camille’s heart squeezed at the longing in his voice. “Do you miss California?”
She watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard, nodding once.
“I’ve never been. Will you tell me about it?” she asked.
Nate’s face lit up as he talked about growing up in California, and Camille found herself imagining him wandering the sun drenched beaches he’d grown up exploring with Tyler. She could practically see the two of them surfing waves, tearing up skate parks, eating snow cones on the pier, playing music with their garage band.
Everything he told her was like a vibrant spark, stoking an ember to life inside her. Being like this with Nate was dangerous. He was all golden skin and coiled muscles stretched over smooth, hard lines. She followed the path of his torso to where his wet jeans hung low on his hips. His stomach was smooth and flat. He was thin, but muscles rippled below his skin. They funneled into a V that led beyond the waist of his pants. And Camille couldn’t keep her eyes from wandering there.
A shirtless Nate was like a summer heat wave. The kind that made the humid air hazy when it rose from the street. That kind of simmering heat was hazardous. It made you see things that weren’t really there. And that’s what Nate did to Cami. He made her see all the things she wanted but couldn’t have.
Nate
Nate grabbed Camille’s camera while she was soaking up the sun next to him. She looked so beautiful lying on the bank with her eyes closed, her mouth quirked into a slight smirk as she listened to him talk. The sun made her pale skin glow with an almost angelic quality. He aimed the camera and captured the photo. The click startled her, and Nate clicked one more photo, catching Cami’s gorgeous gray-blue eyes wide with surprise.
“Hey,” she protested, sitting up and snatching the camera back. “No photos while I look like a drowned rat!”
“You look gorgeous, as always,” he said tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
Miraculously, Camille kept her head above water during their swim. Smart, since the water was pretty gross. Nate had been careful to make sure he didn’t swallow any. But even if he caught the stomach flu it would’ve been worth it to see Camille smile like she had when they’d climbed out of the Mississippi, howling with laughter. Her smile was even brighter than the one he’d seen in the family portrait on her wall.
Nate grinned to himself. Mission accomplished.
“What are you so smiley about?” Camille asked.
“Nothing. Just wondering what else we can cross off that list of yours.”
“Oh no. I draw the line at one bucket list adventure a day.”
“How ‘bout something that’s not on the list?”
“Like what?”
Nate plucked a wildflower from the bank and tucked it behind her ear. “Come to prom with me, Cami.”
He watched her eyelids flutter as color warmed her pale cheeks. “Nate . . .”
“I know, I know. Just don’t say no yet, okay?”
She hesitated, but after a moment nodded, a shy smile playing at her lips. “Okay.”
Nate’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected her to agree. He could work with okay. He kissed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Home. I told your dad I wouldn’t keep you out late.”
Camille looked down at her damp clothes. “I can’t go home like this.”
“I have an idea.”
14
Cami
Camille couldn’t stop laughing. Nate’s brilliant idea had been to buy new clothes at a souvenir shop on Decatur Street. The rule was they could each pick out an outfit for the other to wear. Thinking Nate was going to choose one of the rude or hideous novelty t-shirts for her, Camille went all out, buying him a pair of gold lamé harem pants with Who Dat? printed on the ass, and a t-shirt that made him look like a topless woman covered in Mardi Gras beads.
When they exchanged bags and she pulled out a tutu made up of Mardi Gras purple, gold and green, and a white tank top that read NOLA bride, she knew she’d won whatever little game they were playing. They both went into the dressing rooms and changed into their ridiculous outfits. Camille could hear Nate’s groan from the other dressing room. She had to stifle her giggles, picturing his face as he opened his bag. She almost felt bad—almost. But that thought quickly disappeared when she saw him come out of the dressing room, owning his new look. He shook his screen printed boobs and yelled. “NOLA gone wild! Give me some beads!”
Camille snorted with laughter. “You look incredible.”
&nbs
p; “I feel incredible,” he said grabbing his fake boobs.
“This may be your best idea yet.”
“Camille LaRue! Are you having non-scripted fun?”
“Oh shut up and shake your boobs already.”
The walk home took forever. People kept stopping Nate to hi-five him or congratulate Camille on their marriage. And the looks all the uptight tourists gave them made every penny she’d spent completely worth it. To Nate’s credit, he rocked his ensemble. He even earned a few beads from a street performer on the walk home. Camille couldn’t remember ever laughing so hard. It felt good.
“So, what are we doing tomorrow?” Nate asked when they got to her front door.
“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” she replied.
“So?”
“So, it’s sorta family day at our house.”
“Oh.”
Nate’s crestfallen look made Camille want to take her words back. “Besides, I’m sure you have something better to do than spend everyday with me,” she said trying to make him feel better.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Not really. It’s pretty much why I get out of bed in the morning.”
He’d said it with his usual joking tone, but it tugged at Camille’s heart the way nothing ever had. Suddenly, all she could do was look at Nate’s big brown eyes and the gentle line of his perfectly kissable lips.
She swallowed, reluctant for their day to be over. “Um, do you want a ride home?”
“Yeah.”
The drive home went faster without the rain. And this time, when Camille pulled up to Nate’s, she didn’t make a face even though the house actually looked worse without the rain to distort the extent of dilapidation.
“I had a really great time today,” she said, truly meaning it.
“Yeah, I’ve been told I’m fun to date.”
Camille rolled her eyes. “You had to ruin it, didn’t you?”
Nate just smirked and closed his eyes, leaning against the headrest.
“Nathan Hawthorne!” she teased. “You better not be kissing me in your head again.”
The Goodbye Boyfriend (The Boyfriend Series Book 3) Page 9
