Touch me Not

26. let go

I recognized the setting. We were back in Chicago at the set where we'd photographed Chris' older brother. Cameron was there, closer than I'd allowed him in real life. An arm slipped around my waist, and I turned to meet his steady gaze. My hand betrayed me, running a finger along his sharp jawline, breezing past his lips as if to hush us both. They were slightly moist, inviting a forbidden kiss. I knew those lips, knew how they tasted, how they made me melt from inside out. I leaned forward, standing on my toes to capture his full lower lip. He pressed us closer together, smiling against my touch.

I woke up with a start, shutting my eyes again as my cheeks filled with warmth. It wasn't the first time I'd dreamed of Chicago, and not the first time I'd dreamed of kissing Cameron. It was embarrassing and slightly unsettling. Even if I couldn't control my dreams, it still bothered me that I was so ready to forget Gabriel and exchange his embrace for Cameron's. My dreams of Gabriel were very different, in fact, and not at all pleasant.

After a long, cleansing shower, I tip-toed down into the kitchen to face whatever was in store for me. I had made a mess of the conversation with Cameron, and I wanted to say sorry.

It couldn't have been easy to tell me about his childhood, and what had I done? Too locked up inside my confused head, I hadn't been able to give him the attention he deserved. He had opened up, and I had rewarded him by shutting down. It wasn't like me. I wanted him to understand that I cared, perhaps more than I should. Lingering images from the dream assaulted me and made my skin too warm even if the air was cool.

Dante lounged in the large sofa, staring at something on the large TV even if the sound was muted.

"Good morning," I said.

He looked over his shoulder. "Good morning."

"Where are the others?"

"Chris is sleeping. Didn't want to wake him up."

"Have you seen Cameron?"

"No, but I think he might be outside. His shoes are gone."

I looked out of the window and saw a person sitting on the beach. The tousled brown hair sticking out beneath the cap could only belong to Cameron.

"Hey, are you all right?" Dante asked.

"Yeah." Not really. My thoughts and emotions were too confusing to be called all right.

Dante shook his head. "Chris has been worried about you for a long time."

I shrugged and ambled over to the fridge. What could I say? Cameron had seen the bruises, and no doubt, he had told the others. They would resent me. Judge me.

"Hey."

I startled, not aware that Dante had moved from the sofa. He was tall beside me, frowning slightly as if deep in thought.

"You're upset." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes."

"Why?"

It was a simple question without simple answers. "I'm confused."

Dante cocked his head, gazing into my eyes in that way that made me wonder if he could read people's thoughts. "It's difficult to understand why someone who should love you ends up hurting you instead."

Closing my eyes, I tried to shut down the emotions that threatened to erupt. I was about to lashing out, and that was another side of me that felt entirely foreign.

"I don't want to talk about this."

"I get it. And you don't have to say anything to me." He patted my shoulder and strode back to the sofa, leaving me with my thoughts once again. He made everything sound so easy, but it was as far from the truth as you could possibly get.