AFTER I LEFT Cammie last night, I went back to my place, changed, and went for a walk on the beach. The roar of the waves, the glittering of the moon illuminating my path, and the smoothness of the sand beneath my toes is my escape—my solace. When I need clarification, time to think, the beach is where I go to.
Just like so many other parts of our lives that are similar, it's Cammie's calming retreat too. I knew those other dates weren't hers because the only time she really liked being outside was at the pool or the beach. Any other time, she was swatting at bugs and huffing and puffing like the wolf in the Three Little Pigs. But when she's on a beach, she's carefree. Oliver knew just as much as I did that package was Cammie's at the auction. But for as much as I wanted to win it, to win her, he wanted to lose. Well, he wanted to lose the date, but not her. Fuck. That pissed me off. Because if I had her, there's no way in hell I'd let some other guy win her date. I don't even know who the moron was I was bidding against, but he seemed hell-bent on winning. It just motivated me that much more.
I strolled down the shore as the waves ebbed and flowed. I couldn't help thinking about how I got to this point. Was it all my fault? Had I been a coward? Did I refuse to go after what I wanted? Was I wrong to behave the way I did in high school? I mean, after all the shit went down, all I did was act the way everyone expected me to. It was easier that way. Then, I was thankful for a moment. Thankful that the way I seek escape from real world problems is harmless to others. My love of the beach doesn't destroy my family or friends. It doesn't slowly take my life into its grips, making me do shit that will hurt other people.
It didn't matter the water was frigid, the air too cool. I'm not into those old wives' tales that say I'll get sick if my feet get wet or cold. I'm sure Cammie thinks I buy into them because I wouldn't let her walk around last night without her feet killers on. The truth of the matter is I just wanted a reason to have her in my arms. The weather or trying to spare her pretty toenails, those were just excuses. Neither mattered to me other than having her body touching mine, her heart pounding into my chest, her breath blowing on my neck.
Everything went from being fun and games with a side of seriousness to so fucking complicated in a matter of a sentence. Thanks to Oliver. In a way, I wanted to hug him because he essentially ended their engagement for me. I wouldn't have to consider myself a homewrecker when I convinced her on my date that we were destined to be together. That she had it all wrong. That it's always supposed to have been us.
It makes me sick to think about her sharing a place with him. According to fucked up high society expectations, of which I couldn't care less, they are doing things a little backward. While surprising that Cammie would risk being the talk of Magnolia Grove for this, it makes sense now why Oliver would want that kind of attention. I guess him having her in his bed made the charade more believable to her and everyone else.
But when she looked me in the eyes after she rammed into me, I studied her like I have at every opportunity over the course of my life. It was obvious how conflicted she was. My heart plummets because I'm not even sure their engagement is over. It was like I could see her going through the guest list, thinking about how she was going to tell her mother, about how she was going to become the laughing stock because she was the fool who fell for it all.
I don't think she's a fool, but I know everyone else will, just like they formed opinions about me because of my circumstances. It was like they were just waiting for me to screw up again, so I went ahead and did it quickly so they could go ahead and get the talking out of their systems.
After I locked her in that cabana, made my way to my car, and then to the beach, all I could think was how Oliver had potentially just hit me with a devastating blow. Rather than me taking her on a date and convincing her he was the wrong man for her, she now had more motive than ever to stand by his side.
Cammie doesn't like humiliation.
When we were younger, she was running around the wet pool deck trying to get away from a snake. That fucker looked like the real deal from being in the water. It had diamonds in its eyes and on its shiny scales. I'm not sure what kind of snake it was other than fake. It was the most real looking toy snake I'd ever seen in my life.
Fucking Brody threw it at her when she wasn't looking. It was like it'd jumped out of the water and come after her. I've never seen her jump and run so fast simultaneously, her arms flailing. Blood-curdling screams that seemed way too big to be coming out of her little body probably woke people on a different continent halfway across the world.
It didn't matter that it was fake. And it wouldn't have made a difference if it was a turtle. Cammie's terrified of reptiles. Okay, maybe turtles are the exception because they're too slow to catch her, and who doesn't like turtles? She also hates amphibians. Even if it had been a fake frog Brody threw, she would have reacted the same way.
I chuckle for a moment, thinking about her back then. We'd all learned this information over the years watching her when a lizard came around or if a frog was in one of the little trap doors and we'd let it free in the pool. Hell, but all we had to do was mention snake, and she'd start screaming. Her reaction was a little over the top. Okay, a lot.
Sometimes, I'd get lucky. She'd run over and jump into my arms and ask me to keep her safe. I never said it out loud, but every time I thought, always. She didn't even have to ask. But I had no way of knowing what the future held for us, that it was impossible to keep her from being hurt. That our families would find themselves in the midst of scandal, of humiliation.
We were so innocent during those early high school summers. We had no idea what was to come. All I can remember is just being so fucking horny. I couldn't keep my boner down half the time. And it wasn't just me. All the guys liked her. Of course, she was oblivious. When I'd try to flirt with her, she'd grumble and pout. It just made me want to mess with her more. The pool was my favorite place because I could easily put my hands on her, toss her around, and catch her without her realizing how much I actually enjoyed it. Enjoy seems like an understatement. How much I relished it.
That day when Brody threw that snake, even though it was a standing rule not to run around the pool deck and we knew better, she slipped and fell. It was like everything played out in slow motion as her body fell backward. I was already to the side of the pool before she hit the ground, using the side as a spring board to propel myself out. But I was too late. Her head hit the concrete, and I realized in that moment I'd never be able to keep her safe. I was standing right there, and she fell right in front of me. In that instance, I was helpless, and it was the most hopeless feeling in the world.
And instead of going straight to her, the first thing I did was bust Brody's fucking nose and send him careening through the air. He got lucky. He landed in the grass. His head was just fine. To this day, his nose is still crooked, though. I don't think he's ever thrown anything else on another soul since. Especially a fake reptile or amphibian.
That was the beginning of the talk about me. The beginning of Cammie slipping through my fingers.
By the time I got done with Brody, her friends were around her.
"What do we do? Oh my God!" Amie reached down and put her hand in the blood that had mixed with the water, so it looked like more than it really was. But still. There. Was. So. Much. Blood. "Should we try to take her to the hospital ourselves?"
"Cammie, how many fingers do you see?" Eddie asked. I appreciated his effort to assess her. Being the son of a neurologist, I guess he probably was thinking more about a concussion. Cammie was clearly with it. She was screaming and crying all the while making eye contact with me. Her pupils weren't dilated. The only thing I feared was that her brains were hanging out of the gash on the back of her head. I was too afraid to look. I think we all were.
I swallowed and raked my fingers through my hair, then braced the back of my neck with my hands as I paced, my eyes never leaving hers. "Call nine-one-one," I said without panic or any emotion really at all. None of us had any business trying to transport or move her. Hell, Brody had done enough, and I'd done enough to Brody. I wanted to be by her side, but everyone was crowded around her. It was like I was on the outside watching it all unfold. Little did I know that's how I'd start to feel once news broke about the scandal.
Her wails increased. It was horrifying.
I'm sure she was crying because she was hurting and scared, but I recognized that other look on her face as she stared at me through it all. When we'd gotten in trouble as kids, she always had a bit of regret and remorse, like she wished she had a superpower that would let her go back and redo it. And then there was also this other look included every time. I didn't know what it was for a long time. Eventually, I figured it out.
Humiliation mixed with embarrassment and a side dose of disappointment.
The difference between the other times I'd seen it and this time, was it was never a look directly pointed at me. I couldn't get to her side to hug her, to comfort her. In fact, there was no way I was going to get a word in edgewise between the girls and the increasing volume of sirens. This was bad. This was so much worse than all the other shit we'd done over the years.
If I hadn't hit Brody, we could have just called it what it was—an accident. But my hotheaded temper had turned it into more. It was that and assault. I shrugged before looking away at the familiar expression that overtook her face. I could see it out of the corner of my eye, and it made me want to hide, to be invisible, to vomit behind the bushes.
She ended up needing a couple of stitches. That incident created a small hole between the two of us. It was like my blow to Brody's nose had planted a doubt in her mind about me that'd never been there. Teenage boys fight sometimes, but in Magnolia Grove, it was simply unacceptable. Cammie being the reason for it put her right in the middle of the talk, of the rumors. We wouldn't have time to heal before we were dealt the next blow. That hole would turn into a gash, and there weren't enough stitches to save us from drifting apart.
Not until last night.
What we'd experienced was the closest thing I'd seen to Cammie and Holden pre-gash. As I walked up and down the beach, I wondered if I was just being unrealistic. Had I been a coward all these years? Was I too late? Could we fill the hollowness between us with the only thing that could save us both—love?
For the first time in my life, the beach didn't give me clarity. Time doesn't stop, so it didn't give me more of that to reflect and process everything that'd happened, either. The sun rose, and now it's the start of a new day, a chance to fix the wrongs that have gotten in our way.
Nine o'clock comes and goes without so much as a call from her. I refuse to wait another second by the phone. In a way, it's like I've been on autopilot since I left her. And my autopilot always takes me back to her. I'm convinced my soul was programmed to seek hers.
LAST NIGHT, I locked her in this cabana safe and sound. She had no way to leave unless she called a damn Uber even though I told her not to and she agreed. I've already slipped my key in and unlocked the door, and the only thing left for me to do is turn the knob. The only thing stopping me is a single haunting thought.
What if she's not here? That would suck since I made a stop on the way over here to pick her up some clothes from the house so she wouldn't have to do a walk of shame. Nothing would get people in Magnolia Grove talking more than her wearing what she had on last night. Well, except for maybe her leaving wearing what she had on last night by my side. I smile. Damn, that sounds all kinds of fun. See, that's my kind of shit. Make them think they have all the answers based on their perception when really I know their rose-tinted glasses are really red like the bloodsucker sons of bitches they are. So disillusioned.
Gripping the bag tighter in my hand, I roll my eyes and shake my head. Cammie wouldn't find that fun. Or funny. Or entertaining. Or anything but repulsive probably. Good thing I stopped to get the clothes. I'm sure she would have totally expected the alternative, but she won't be expecting this.
Curiosity killed the cat, and I can't wait to see her again, so there's only one way to find out. Turning the knob and slowly opening the door, I peek through the small crack I've created. Sucking in a breath, I ease my way through the entrance, closing it and latching the lock. Before me is the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on. She's sleeping on the couch. Her chestnut hair is a tangled mess. The skirt of her dress is hiked up around her hips.
Fuck. She and her no panty wearing self makes my cock start to strain against the zipper of my jeans.
Dropping the bag down at the foot of the couch, I grab a towel from one of the cabinets and drape it over her, and then pull up a chair.
I could stay like this and watch her forever. That sounded creepy, didn't it? Shit, I'm getting soft.