Hemlock Clan: What I Am

~ XVIII ~

Cameron

The nighttime air was warm and thick on the walk from the bar to the docks. It was difficult to breathe as the atmosphere was almost like soup, swirling thickly around us.

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to fill my lungs with air, I strolled casually along the sidewalk, conscious of the handsome man walking alongside me.

I couldn't stop stealing sidelong glances at Blake while he walked, head down, in no rush at all. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, looking comfortable and sexy, confident and streetwise, whereas I simply looked like a hot mess.

The heat of the day was rising from the concrete walkways, curling around my body, stealing the breeze. My shirt clung to my arms and my hair stuck to my forehead. As much as I wanted to brush my hair away from my face, I just couldn't do it. Not in public. Not in a place where someone could see. See my ugliness, my imperfection, my deformity. Everyone stared when they saw my scar, many even asked about it. I didn't want that kind of attention.

People only ever noticed me when it was something bad ... like my scar.

Feeling a sense of self pity wash over me, I risked another glance at the guy strolling next to me, to take in his handsome profile and remind myself that I was walking with him, even if it was for a short time.

Blake lifted his striking eyes and grinned when he saw me looking at him. I ducked my head, my cheeks flaming at being caught.

"So," he started. "What do you like to do in your spare time?"

Oh.

I shrugged and risked a glance at him. "I like photography."

Blake raised his brows. "As in, you like to look at it or like to take photos?"

"A bit of both, really."

"Seriously?" His smile was wide and reached his stunning eyes. "That's so cool."

I shrugged again, not quite believing what he was saying. Not everyone agreed that photography was a hobby worthy of being called cool.

"It is," he insisted as we walked around a couple of girls who'd stopped in the middle of the path to talk. "I don't know if I could do anything like that. I'm not very creative."

"What do you like to do? As a hobby, I mean."

It was his turn to shrug. "Not much, really. My dad keeps me busy, helping out with his work, so I don't always have the time."

"You work for your dad?"

He nodded. "Kind of. I'll take over eventually when he can't do it any more, and there's still a lot I have to learn, so I kind of shadow him quite a bit."

"Did you go to college?" I was assuming he was around the same age as me, going by his young face and the way he dressed.

He shook his head. "Nah. No college. My dad wanted me to learn the family business as soon as I could."

Oh.

Well, that was one thing we had in common.

He looked over at me as we turned a corner. "You go to college?"

I shook my head, too. "I didn't, either. I couldn't wait to leave school and never sit in a classroom again."

The memories of school sent a shiver along my spine. The sneers, the names, the punches, the pranks ... I was never one of the popular kids, the kids everyone liked, the kids that everyone wanted to be.

I was always on the sidelines, looking in, wishing I had friends, a family, anyone ... just someone who could make life at school that little bit easier, more bearable.