14
Cam arrives at my house at 8:15 a.m. to pick me up. And here I was thinking he was only an early bird to get to the office to see me.
I open the passenger side door and slide in. "Good morning," I tell him, setting my backpack on the ground. "Cinnamon roll?" I open the lid of the Tupperware I'm holding for good measure.
Cam is speechless. "You made cinnamon rolls?" He reaches over to grab one and I hand him a napkin from the stack I've brought with me.
I nod. "I went to sleep at 9:45 Cam. I was up and at 'em this morning."
He takes a bite, staring at me. He chews, swallows. "Your mom made these."
She did. "Well, I'm officially offended."
He shoves the rest of the cinnamon roll into his mouth very ungracefully and pulls the car into drive. "How are you not hungover? I saw you drink at least three different types of alcohol last night!"
"I told you Cam, I just don't get them." It's true. I hardly drank any water yesterday either.
He eyes me, like this fact is a personal attack against him. "So if I just turn the music up a little bit..." he turns the dial up slowly. Today it's Oasis, Wonderwall. "That wouldn't bother you?"
"Not at all," I tell him, only now noticing the tall Starbucks waiting for me in the cupholder. I pull it out and take a sip. "Thank you for this, by the way."
Cam gasps like he's on stage auditioning for a high school musical. "He's even thanking me?"
I blow air out of my lips. "I always thank you."
He laughs at this. I smile, very much knowing this is not in the slightest bit true.
He reaches a hand out to turn the volume down, apparently satisfied with my non hangover enough to partake in regular conversation.
"You got plans this weekend?"
This weekend is my birthday, but I don't say that. "Not really, no." Grandma is coming over for my annual birthday feast on Saturday night. I've already invited Callie and Trey as well.
"Good," he downs a sip of his coffee. "Because we have plans."
I turn to face him. "Oh?"
"Guess who is going to be at the Penguins game on Saturday night?"
I haven't been to an NHL game in ages, and we aren't Penguins fans, so I can't even pretend to make an educated guess about an ex-player or someone else in the hockey league who may be in attendance. But Cam's looking over at me every few seconds, just eagerly waiting for me to answer his question.
So, I send a very sarcastic shot in the dark. "Could it be... The president?"
He shakes his head, eyes still darting between me and the road. He asks me, "What's the best fried chicken in the world?" And suddenly, I know exactly why we're talking about the Penguins game.
"No fucking way." Cam's nodding excitedly, but he says nothing. He's loving my open-mouthed reaction. "Big Al is going to be at the Penguin's game?"
He had been trying to play it cool, but now Cam practically bursts. It's clear that he's been waiting to tell me this since I set foot in the Hot Boy Truck this morning. "Yup. Him and his chicken."
"No way."
"And it's his last stop on the East Coast before he goes back to California. It's fate."
Suddenly Cam tosses me his phone. It's unlocked and open on an email. I have to bring it close to my face to read it because he keeps his iPhone 6 brightness on level one to save battery. When I can finally see the contents of the email, I realize it's a ticket confirmation for the Pittsburgh Penguins game this Saturday. Two tickets. 6 p.m.
"Cam Lewis!" I drop his phone in my lap, nearly dropping my coffee instead. "What the fuck!"
He's rubbing a finger on the bottom of his smiling lip. Now he can't even look at me. "He has his own food stall at the game. Thought it could be fun."
I was expecting maybe we catch his truck on the way out of the game, or he's doing the food at the watch party in the arena parking lot. Not, hey here are two tickets to a major league hockey game we're sitting in Section 314B.
"Fun? This is going to be the best day of my life!" He's laughing, but I'm not kidding. "How much were they? Let me pay you back."
He does a half shrug. "We'll figure it out later." He doesn't give me a chance to answer. "You're in, right?"
"Uh, yeah, Cam," I give him my best I'm Elle Woods, duh, voice. "Obviously."
I watch the corners of his lips twitch higher as he pulls into the O'Malley's lot next to the single car in the parking lot (mine). He hasn't stopped smiling since he's told me the plans, and it's the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life.
"Good." He puts the car in park and looks over at me. "Because I don't think I could have gone alone."
"The one good thing about me, Cam," I unbuckle my seatbelt. "I only have about three friends, and you're one of them. So whenever you need me, I'm there." Although I'd like to think he bought the tickets with the sole purpose of the two of us going together, I am fine with being his couldn't go alone choice. Fuck it, I am honored.
He's watching me as I collect all my belongings. "The one good thing? Ah come on. There's gotta be at least two."
I pop open the car door and hop out, shaking the plastic container of cinnamon rolls at him. "And I bring snacks."
His face is very serious as he nods. "Definitely. But I think that's about all you've got to offer."
I sigh wistfully and put on my best young-woman-in-a-period-drama voice. I even fan myself. "Gosh I just hope I can be enough for you, Cameron Lewis."
The corners of his lips fall, but he says nothing. I raise my coffee to him anyway. "Well, it's not Buzz, but it'll do. Thanks for the ride. And the mediocre coffee."
"Jeez, twice in one day?"
I smirk, shrugging. "You caught me feeling generous."
__
At work, Callie peels back the hair on my neck to get a good look at my function. She doesn't even ask what it graphs (everyone just assumes it's the fucking Pythagorean Theorem), but she just loves it.
"The font, it's so tiny! I love it, Si. You're a visionary."
I haven't told her about the hockey game yet because I'm fairly certain I'm just a pity invite to Cam's own plans, but still, I'm excited.
It's the text he sends me at noon that gets me all drunk on his attention again.
You're taking care of the tattoo right?
I don't even answer. I slam my phone on my desk and wheel over to Callie. The cinnamon roll I gave her this morning sits uneaten and wilted on her desk.
"I need to tell you something."
Apparently, I'm visibly giddy, or something, because her eyes go wide as soon as she tears them away from her computer. "Ooooo, do tell!"
I look around. It's lunch time, so more seats than usual are empty. I bring my voice down anyway. "Cam got us tickets to a Penguins game on Saturday."
Callie gasps. Her freshly manicured fingers (bright yellow with white emoji faces on each finger) hit her lips. "For your birthday?"
I quickly shake my head no. "No, no. He doesn't know it's my birthday."
She looks at me with a not mad, just disappointed face that rivals my mother's. "What about grandma's birthday dinner?"
"Fuckkkkk." It's only just now that I remember it. I had been so caught up in the excitement of a day alone with Cam that it ran straight out of my mind. I reach for my phone from my desk and grab it to text Alice ASAP. "It's fine. We'll move it to Sunday night."
"Okay, fine, but this brings up a larger, far more important question. If he didn't know it's your birthday, why the hell is he buying you tickets to an NHL game! An NHL game four hours away, mind you!"
I'm texting Alice, so the vague explanation I offer is, "This guy we like is going to be there."
"Excuse you?"
"This fried chicken guy," I correct myself. "He has a food stall and we're essentially going just for him."
"You two are going to an NHL game for fried chicken." It isn't a question, and when I look up at Callie, her eyebrows are raised so high they're practically at her hairline.
"Yes," I scoot backward. "And there is no reason we can't."
I ignore Callie's comment about men and meats and swipe my phone open again to text Cam back. But before I can, Alice sends me two angry face emojis.
sorry mom!! Cam got us tickets to the Penguins game.
She responds with a happy face emoji and a hockey stick followed by, Fine! Did you invite him yet?
I don't answer her and instead skip over to my texts with Cam.
To him, I say: yes mom I am
The rest of the workday goes by quickly because I'm texting back and forth with Cam until 5. We don't usually text unless one of us has something to say, so I'm astounded when he asks how my day is going and what my plans are until the best day of my life (Saturday, of course).
I don't see him on my way out of the office, but we talk all night until I'm in nothing but my boxers tucked into bed, phone on the charger next to me.
alright man. i'll talk to you tomorrow
For some reason the man feels very off here.
Goodnight Si
He's rarely calling me Simon anymore, and it makes the pain in my chest when I look at him all that much stronger.