The Wild Ones
Page 15
“All right, all right. Geez!” She pauses for a minute before I hear her sigh. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Things are just different between Brent and me lately. I don’t feel as…certain about him as I used to.”
“Certain?”
“Yeah. You know, like he’s the one. Like the one.”
I can’t help but turn and look at her. “Is that what you’re looking for? The one?”
She looks down at her toes and shrugs. “No, not specifically. It’s just that he’s perfect in every way. It just seems smart.”
I return to painting.
“Smart? To what? Marry him because he’s a good fit? That’s not smart. That’s incredibly stupid. And you’re anything but stupid.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know you.”
“No, you don’t.”
I turn and look at her again. “Yes. I do. At least in all the ways that count.” I pause. My better judgment is telling me I shouldn’t flirt, but I punch it right in the mouth and say what I’m thinking anyway. “Well, minus the way that’s the most fun.”
I wink at her and she blushes. I watch her white teeth sink into the flesh of her lower lip. I shift under her legs and turn to look at her feet. They’re the only body part I don’t want to get na**d and rub myself all over.
“So, what’s the problem? Why are you suddenly not so sure?”
“I don’t know. Things just feel…different. It’s hard to explain.”
“Try.”
She sighs again. I can tell she’s not exactly comfortable talking to me about this, but not so much so that she won’t. I just have to pry a little. Why it’s so important to me to help her or to find out the answers is something I don’t want to think about.
“I don’t know. It’s like…like…” She trails off and I make myself not turn to look at her. Her face is expressive and I know it would tell me more, but looking at her only blurs that line I’m having such trouble with.
Her voice drops to something a little louder than a whisper, but not much. “I know it when he touches me, when he kisses me. It doesn’t feel right anymore.”
“And why is that?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t feel that way about him anymore. I don’t want him that way.”
“Then what do you want?”
What I meant was what does she want from him, but the way it came out didn’t sound like that, even to my ears. Painting the last stroke on her left foot, I pick it up and bring it to my mouth, blowing on the wet polish. I don’t even realize I’m rubbing her arch with my thumb until I feel the chills break out on her calf. Lowering her leg, I turn to look at her. Her lips are parted a tiny bit and her eyes are sharply focused on me. On my mouth specifically. I watch her pink tongue slip out to wet her lips and I feel an ache deep down in my stomach.
Without looking away, she tugs her foot from my hand. I let it go and she carefully tucks it behind my back and scoots forward, putting me squarely between her legs.
Oh shit! Stop her now or you won’t stop at all!
“Do you really want to know what I want?”
God, yes!
That’s what I want to say, right before I lay her down on the lounge chair and peel her bikini off. But my sensible side speaks up this time. Fast and loud.
“More than you can imagine, but we both know it’s not a good idea.”
I see the fire in her eyes die. It’s like I doused it with the cold water of rejection. I wounded her, the last thing in the world I wanted to do.
“Cami, I—”
Drawing up her legs, she turns to the side and stands. “You don’t have to explain. I understand. Completely. Thanks for listening. I appreciate it.”
Without even taking her little kit with her, she turns and walks away. And doesn’t look back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - Cami
“Cami, you haven’t been out of the house in almost a week. You’re coming with me tonight whether you like it or not.”
“I’m not really up to it tonight, Jenna. Maybe later in the week.”
“Don’t make me come over there and toss your gorgeous butt in the shower. You know I’ll do it.”
“I know what you’re trying to do. And I really appreciate it, but I’m just not in the mood, Jenna.”
She’s quiet for a second. “Is this about Brent?”
“No, it’s not. We’re fine.”
Jenna snorts. “Yeah, right. You and Brent haven’t been ‘fine’ since you met Trick.”
“Jenna, I—”
“I know, I know,” she interrupts quickly. “I’m not saying another word. Look, Cami, just come out with me. For a little while. When you’re ready to leave, we’ll leave. Do it for me. I’m worried about you.”
I know by her voice and from being her friend for a zillion years that she really is worried about me. That’s what makes me cave.
I don’t bother to hide my reluctance. “Fine. But I don’t want to stay long. And if Trick shows up, we’re leaving!”
“I told you, he won’t be there. He and Rusty have other plans.”
She’d said as much earlier, but didn’t elaborate. It makes my heart hurt to think of what (or who) those other plans might be.
“How are things going with you two, by the way?”
I can hear her smile when she answers. “Awesome! He’s just… he’s just… It’s awesome.”
“Sounds to me like you like him. At least a little,” I tease.
“Shut up, smart ass. Don’t be a hater just because you’re too afraid to take the leap.”
My laugh is bitter, even to my own ears. “It’s not a matter of fear anymore, Jenna. I told you what happened. He chose. That’s it. The end.”
“God, Cami! He didn’t choose. He had to have you to be able to choose something else over you, silly. And he never had you. You never let Brent go long enough to see where it would go. Me? I can’t blame the guy. I’m sure he took one look at you and knew you were a heartbreaker.”
“I’ve told you—”
“I know, I know,” she says again as she interrupts. “Let’s not talk about this again. Get ready. I’ll be there to pick you up in an hour. Tonight, Lucky won’t know what hit him.”
She’s referring to the namesake of the bar. “Lucky was a horse, Jenna.”
“I know.”
“A female horse.”
“Oh,” she says, deadpan. “That bitch won’t know what hit her,” she corrects.
I laugh. “Much better.”
********
Jenna grins at me over the top of her mug as she gulps down swallows of cold beer. “Aaaaaaaaaaah,” she growls heartily as she fake-wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Love me some beer.” She acts like a burly cowboy who’s been out on the range for a month.
“It’s a good thing I’m used to your incredible femininity, or else I might be in shock right now.”
“It’s pretty stunning, right?” she asks, giggling and looking around the crowd of country-lovin’ folks at Lucky’s. “Look. They’re all dancing again. They’ve recovered just fine.”
She’s referring to our dance floor disruption. Jenna gets a kick out of dragging me onto the dance floor from time to time to dance free style while everyone else line dances. To say that it causes a stir would be a tragic understatement.
As I scan the myriad faces around the room, I see that they’re still throwing strange and slightly-irritated looks our way. All except the men, of course. They loved the show.
“I don’t know how you talk me into these things.”
“Um, because they’re fun and you like fun and you need fun and I can give you fun. That’s how.”
I grin. “I guess.” And she’s right. Jenna and a night of goofy, carefree fun are exactly what I need.
“What the eff?” she says suddenly, looking at something over my shoulder. I turn to see what caught her attention. Brent is standing near the entrance, scanning the crowd. I have a feeling I know who he’s looking for. “How the hell did he know where we were?”
I sigh. “Drogheda.”
“I thought she didn’t like Brent.”
I shrug. “She thinks I can do better, I guess. But she still won’t lie to him.”
He spots me and smiles. Instantly, I recognize a difference. Things have been strained between us lately and his smiles have been as tight as mine have felt. But not this one. This one is full of all the charm that first attracted me to him so long ago.
I’m immediately suspicious.
I smile as he approaches. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come a’courtin’,” he says in a thick accent.
“A’courtin’?”
His smile widens. “Yep. Isn’t that what they call it?”
“Who’s they?”
“The locals.”
“Oh,” I snort derisively. “You live, what, like an hour away and now we’re suddenly hicks down here?”
I can’t help the prickliness in my tone. He’s as much of a snob as my father. And neither of them has any right to be, as far as I’m concerned.
“I’m just teasing you, Cam. Geez, take it easy.” He reaches for my hand and tugs. “Dance with me.”
He’s smiling down at me, his eyes twinkling and playful, and I think to myself that maybe I ought to give it one last try, give myself one last shot to feel what I thought I once felt. So I let him lead me onto the dance floor.
As if on cue, the DJ switches to the set of slow songs he plays each half hour. It’s kind of a thing at Lucky’s—every thirty minutes, the DJ plays two ballads back to back.
Brent pulls me into the crowd and then into his arms. He holds me tight against him, much tighter than I would’ve liked, and I wind my arms around his neck. He buries his face in my neck and I feel his lips as he kisses the skin beneath my ear.
I want to feel desire. I want to enjoy the close contact and the way our bodies sway to the music, but it just doesn’t feel like it used to. It’s as though there’s space between us, even when there is none. Yes, there’s something between us. Or more like someone.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the image of Trick as it tumbles into my mind. I know I wouldn’t be having these thoughts if I were in Trick’s arms. Therein lies the problem. I can’t have Trick. Or rather, Trick doesn’t want me. At least not enough. So why am I still hanging on? Why can’t I move on? Why can’t I return the love of the guy who does want me?
Turning my head to lay my cheek against Brent’s shoulder, I concentrate on the lyrics and try to clear my mind of everything but Brent and the moment. I focus on my breathing and the feel of his muscular chest and arms.
When I start to feel a little more “present,” I open my eyes.
Damn! Wouldn’t you know…
They collide with the intense greenish-gray ones I can’t forget. No matter how much I wish I could.
He’s watching me, his expression unfathomable. I lift my head, my eyes locked on his, and we stare at each other. He takes one step toward me and stops. My stomach twitters and my heart flutters in my chest. It’s in that second, in that very moment, that I realize Brent will never be enough. He never has been. He’s never made me feel this way. No one has. No one but Trick.
No doubt sensing the change in my body language, Brent lifts his head and looks down at me. He’s smiling lazily at first, but it dies pretty quickly when he sees my expression.
Like a fish out of water, my mouth is working its way open and closed as I struggle to find the words. I know I have to end it, but I never expected it would be so hard.
Brent frowns and shakes his head slightly, as if he’s trying to understand the unspoken conversation between us. But then he looks up, looks in the direction I was looking. I know the instant he spots Trick.
He turns narrowed eyes on me and his lips thin into a bitter smirk. “So that’s how it’s gonna be?”
“Brent, I…”
I don’t even know what to say. I can’t tell him I’m leaving him for someone else. Trick’s not mine. He might not ever be. And even though that reality twists my stomach into a sick knot, I know I can’t string Brent along when my heart is with someone else, even if there’s a chance I might never have that someone else. I can’t ignore it any longer.
Brent flings my arms from around his neck and hisses, “Don’t bother.” He turns around and stalks away, weaving through the crush of bodies on the dance floor, leaving me standing by myself as the song winds down.
I don’t really know what to do with myself, so I just stand there in the middle of all the happy, dancing couples. The notes of another song begin and I tell myself that I need to move. But I don’t. Still, I just stand there, wondering what has become of my life. I’d started the summer with a plan. Now, nothing is simple or certain. And, in a way, none of that other stuff even matters. The only thing that seems to register on my radar is Trick. Always. Trick.
As if my thoughts have the power to conjure, Trick appears in my line of sight. He stops a few feet away and just stares at me.
I’m not a fan of country music, but the lyrics to the song perfectly define the moment. “Glass” is what it’s called and, right now, I feel like glass—thin, unstable, transparent. Vulnerable.
“Certain?”
“Yeah. You know, like he’s the one. Like the one.”
I can’t help but turn and look at her. “Is that what you’re looking for? The one?”
She looks down at her toes and shrugs. “No, not specifically. It’s just that he’s perfect in every way. It just seems smart.”
I return to painting.
“Smart? To what? Marry him because he’s a good fit? That’s not smart. That’s incredibly stupid. And you’re anything but stupid.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know you.”
“No, you don’t.”
I turn and look at her again. “Yes. I do. At least in all the ways that count.” I pause. My better judgment is telling me I shouldn’t flirt, but I punch it right in the mouth and say what I’m thinking anyway. “Well, minus the way that’s the most fun.”
I wink at her and she blushes. I watch her white teeth sink into the flesh of her lower lip. I shift under her legs and turn to look at her feet. They’re the only body part I don’t want to get na**d and rub myself all over.
“So, what’s the problem? Why are you suddenly not so sure?”
“I don’t know. Things just feel…different. It’s hard to explain.”
“Try.”
She sighs again. I can tell she’s not exactly comfortable talking to me about this, but not so much so that she won’t. I just have to pry a little. Why it’s so important to me to help her or to find out the answers is something I don’t want to think about.
“I don’t know. It’s like…like…” She trails off and I make myself not turn to look at her. Her face is expressive and I know it would tell me more, but looking at her only blurs that line I’m having such trouble with.
Her voice drops to something a little louder than a whisper, but not much. “I know it when he touches me, when he kisses me. It doesn’t feel right anymore.”
“And why is that?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t feel that way about him anymore. I don’t want him that way.”
“Then what do you want?”
What I meant was what does she want from him, but the way it came out didn’t sound like that, even to my ears. Painting the last stroke on her left foot, I pick it up and bring it to my mouth, blowing on the wet polish. I don’t even realize I’m rubbing her arch with my thumb until I feel the chills break out on her calf. Lowering her leg, I turn to look at her. Her lips are parted a tiny bit and her eyes are sharply focused on me. On my mouth specifically. I watch her pink tongue slip out to wet her lips and I feel an ache deep down in my stomach.
Without looking away, she tugs her foot from my hand. I let it go and she carefully tucks it behind my back and scoots forward, putting me squarely between her legs.
Oh shit! Stop her now or you won’t stop at all!
“Do you really want to know what I want?”
God, yes!
That’s what I want to say, right before I lay her down on the lounge chair and peel her bikini off. But my sensible side speaks up this time. Fast and loud.
“More than you can imagine, but we both know it’s not a good idea.”
I see the fire in her eyes die. It’s like I doused it with the cold water of rejection. I wounded her, the last thing in the world I wanted to do.
“Cami, I—”
Drawing up her legs, she turns to the side and stands. “You don’t have to explain. I understand. Completely. Thanks for listening. I appreciate it.”
Without even taking her little kit with her, she turns and walks away. And doesn’t look back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - Cami
“Cami, you haven’t been out of the house in almost a week. You’re coming with me tonight whether you like it or not.”
“I’m not really up to it tonight, Jenna. Maybe later in the week.”
“Don’t make me come over there and toss your gorgeous butt in the shower. You know I’ll do it.”
“I know what you’re trying to do. And I really appreciate it, but I’m just not in the mood, Jenna.”
She’s quiet for a second. “Is this about Brent?”
“No, it’s not. We’re fine.”
Jenna snorts. “Yeah, right. You and Brent haven’t been ‘fine’ since you met Trick.”
“Jenna, I—”
“I know, I know,” she interrupts quickly. “I’m not saying another word. Look, Cami, just come out with me. For a little while. When you’re ready to leave, we’ll leave. Do it for me. I’m worried about you.”
I know by her voice and from being her friend for a zillion years that she really is worried about me. That’s what makes me cave.
I don’t bother to hide my reluctance. “Fine. But I don’t want to stay long. And if Trick shows up, we’re leaving!”
“I told you, he won’t be there. He and Rusty have other plans.”
She’d said as much earlier, but didn’t elaborate. It makes my heart hurt to think of what (or who) those other plans might be.
“How are things going with you two, by the way?”
I can hear her smile when she answers. “Awesome! He’s just… he’s just… It’s awesome.”
“Sounds to me like you like him. At least a little,” I tease.
“Shut up, smart ass. Don’t be a hater just because you’re too afraid to take the leap.”
My laugh is bitter, even to my own ears. “It’s not a matter of fear anymore, Jenna. I told you what happened. He chose. That’s it. The end.”
“God, Cami! He didn’t choose. He had to have you to be able to choose something else over you, silly. And he never had you. You never let Brent go long enough to see where it would go. Me? I can’t blame the guy. I’m sure he took one look at you and knew you were a heartbreaker.”
“I’ve told you—”
“I know, I know,” she says again as she interrupts. “Let’s not talk about this again. Get ready. I’ll be there to pick you up in an hour. Tonight, Lucky won’t know what hit him.”
She’s referring to the namesake of the bar. “Lucky was a horse, Jenna.”
“I know.”
“A female horse.”
“Oh,” she says, deadpan. “That bitch won’t know what hit her,” she corrects.
I laugh. “Much better.”
********
Jenna grins at me over the top of her mug as she gulps down swallows of cold beer. “Aaaaaaaaaaah,” she growls heartily as she fake-wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Love me some beer.” She acts like a burly cowboy who’s been out on the range for a month.
“It’s a good thing I’m used to your incredible femininity, or else I might be in shock right now.”
“It’s pretty stunning, right?” she asks, giggling and looking around the crowd of country-lovin’ folks at Lucky’s. “Look. They’re all dancing again. They’ve recovered just fine.”
She’s referring to our dance floor disruption. Jenna gets a kick out of dragging me onto the dance floor from time to time to dance free style while everyone else line dances. To say that it causes a stir would be a tragic understatement.
As I scan the myriad faces around the room, I see that they’re still throwing strange and slightly-irritated looks our way. All except the men, of course. They loved the show.
“I don’t know how you talk me into these things.”
“Um, because they’re fun and you like fun and you need fun and I can give you fun. That’s how.”
I grin. “I guess.” And she’s right. Jenna and a night of goofy, carefree fun are exactly what I need.
“What the eff?” she says suddenly, looking at something over my shoulder. I turn to see what caught her attention. Brent is standing near the entrance, scanning the crowd. I have a feeling I know who he’s looking for. “How the hell did he know where we were?”
I sigh. “Drogheda.”
“I thought she didn’t like Brent.”
I shrug. “She thinks I can do better, I guess. But she still won’t lie to him.”
He spots me and smiles. Instantly, I recognize a difference. Things have been strained between us lately and his smiles have been as tight as mine have felt. But not this one. This one is full of all the charm that first attracted me to him so long ago.
I’m immediately suspicious.
I smile as he approaches. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come a’courtin’,” he says in a thick accent.
“A’courtin’?”
His smile widens. “Yep. Isn’t that what they call it?”
“Who’s they?”
“The locals.”
“Oh,” I snort derisively. “You live, what, like an hour away and now we’re suddenly hicks down here?”
I can’t help the prickliness in my tone. He’s as much of a snob as my father. And neither of them has any right to be, as far as I’m concerned.
“I’m just teasing you, Cam. Geez, take it easy.” He reaches for my hand and tugs. “Dance with me.”
He’s smiling down at me, his eyes twinkling and playful, and I think to myself that maybe I ought to give it one last try, give myself one last shot to feel what I thought I once felt. So I let him lead me onto the dance floor.
As if on cue, the DJ switches to the set of slow songs he plays each half hour. It’s kind of a thing at Lucky’s—every thirty minutes, the DJ plays two ballads back to back.
Brent pulls me into the crowd and then into his arms. He holds me tight against him, much tighter than I would’ve liked, and I wind my arms around his neck. He buries his face in my neck and I feel his lips as he kisses the skin beneath my ear.
I want to feel desire. I want to enjoy the close contact and the way our bodies sway to the music, but it just doesn’t feel like it used to. It’s as though there’s space between us, even when there is none. Yes, there’s something between us. Or more like someone.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the image of Trick as it tumbles into my mind. I know I wouldn’t be having these thoughts if I were in Trick’s arms. Therein lies the problem. I can’t have Trick. Or rather, Trick doesn’t want me. At least not enough. So why am I still hanging on? Why can’t I move on? Why can’t I return the love of the guy who does want me?
Turning my head to lay my cheek against Brent’s shoulder, I concentrate on the lyrics and try to clear my mind of everything but Brent and the moment. I focus on my breathing and the feel of his muscular chest and arms.
When I start to feel a little more “present,” I open my eyes.
Damn! Wouldn’t you know…
They collide with the intense greenish-gray ones I can’t forget. No matter how much I wish I could.
He’s watching me, his expression unfathomable. I lift my head, my eyes locked on his, and we stare at each other. He takes one step toward me and stops. My stomach twitters and my heart flutters in my chest. It’s in that second, in that very moment, that I realize Brent will never be enough. He never has been. He’s never made me feel this way. No one has. No one but Trick.
No doubt sensing the change in my body language, Brent lifts his head and looks down at me. He’s smiling lazily at first, but it dies pretty quickly when he sees my expression.
Like a fish out of water, my mouth is working its way open and closed as I struggle to find the words. I know I have to end it, but I never expected it would be so hard.
Brent frowns and shakes his head slightly, as if he’s trying to understand the unspoken conversation between us. But then he looks up, looks in the direction I was looking. I know the instant he spots Trick.
He turns narrowed eyes on me and his lips thin into a bitter smirk. “So that’s how it’s gonna be?”
“Brent, I…”
I don’t even know what to say. I can’t tell him I’m leaving him for someone else. Trick’s not mine. He might not ever be. And even though that reality twists my stomach into a sick knot, I know I can’t string Brent along when my heart is with someone else, even if there’s a chance I might never have that someone else. I can’t ignore it any longer.
Brent flings my arms from around his neck and hisses, “Don’t bother.” He turns around and stalks away, weaving through the crush of bodies on the dance floor, leaving me standing by myself as the song winds down.
I don’t really know what to do with myself, so I just stand there in the middle of all the happy, dancing couples. The notes of another song begin and I tell myself that I need to move. But I don’t. Still, I just stand there, wondering what has become of my life. I’d started the summer with a plan. Now, nothing is simple or certain. And, in a way, none of that other stuff even matters. The only thing that seems to register on my radar is Trick. Always. Trick.
As if my thoughts have the power to conjure, Trick appears in my line of sight. He stops a few feet away and just stares at me.
I’m not a fan of country music, but the lyrics to the song perfectly define the moment. “Glass” is what it’s called and, right now, I feel like glass—thin, unstable, transparent. Vulnerable.
