Coincidentally Kismet

17. Cam

CHAPTER 17

CAM

“PRETTY” - LAUREN ALAINA

W hat is it about working out that makes you infinitely hungrier? You start this mission to become healthy, fit, in shape, sexy, whatever you want to call it. You’re dedicated, like seriously all in, killing yourself, and yet all you can think about is eating. It seems really counterintuitive, like my stomach should get the memo that we’re supposed to be eating less, not more.

It’s unfair! I think this is why people pay big bucks to get hypnotized into not wanting to eat. It’s got to be some sort of weird mind fuck that your brain is playing on you to keep the status quo. I don’t buy into the whole “you’re burning energy so your body wants more” bullcrap. My body has access to an assorted array of donuts, pastries, and french fries stored freely around my hips and thighs.

Since the fundraiser, I’ve been all in on getting fit. Doing the race gave me a good burn in my lungs and made my muscles feel that raw ache that hurts but also weirdly feels magnificent. I decided that night, while soaking in an Epsom salt bath in my too-small bathtub, that this was the push I’d been waiting for. Since Saturday, I’ve been getting up early and working out at the little gym in our complex. I don’t pretend to be an expert at the machines, but I’ve been trying to do at least thirty minutes on the treadmill and then some free weight exercises that I picked up from my mom’s old Cindy Crawford workout tapes in the nineties. Patricia would be proud.

Will seems excited by me working out. On one hand, it’s cute that he’s being supportive, sending me workout ideas and protein powder recommendations. On the other hand, it’s becoming pretty evident that he wants me to reshape my body. Last night he sent me one of those cliché thirty-day ab transformation challenges. I’ve been finding myself spending more time looking through our text thread trying to glean clues about his motivation than actually reading the messages for what they are—a friend trying to help.

Will

Hey, Wright . . . want to do this ab challenge with me?

Cam

Erm . . . I feel like those things don’t ever work.

Will

Trust me! They work...Smith and I did one a few months ago, and I spent weeks rolling out of bed because I couldn’t sit up fully.

Cam

You’re really not selling it the way you think you are, Rambo.

Will

Come on, it’ll be fun.

Cam

Said no one . . . EVER.

Will

I’ll buy you a milkshake if you make it further than I do.

Cam

Hmm . . . add in some french fries and you got a deal.

As far as food goes, it’s been all protein and salads for this girl, and let me tell you...I hate salad. It’s rabbit food! Anyone who tells you they love salad is lying to your face. Well, unless it’s doused in ranch dressing, then I suppose that’s fair. I could eat a ranch dressing–covered flip-flop if push came to shove. But seriously, I’ve been dedicated. It’s a real triumph in my opinion. I even turned down maple bacon sweet potato fries from Daveed at work, and he checked my temperature to see if I was coming down with something. Asshole.

For the most part, my friends at the salon have been supportive, and Lo is on board since she primarily eats healthy anyway. She’s been helping me by making sure I have a healthy dinner to come home to and encouraging my workouts by either coming with me (that’s if Smith didn’t spend the night, of course) or making me a post-workout protein smoothie when I’m finished.

The scale, however, is not my friend. Rationally, I know it’s only been a couple of days, but I still expected to see some progress. The amount I’m peeing should’ve at minimum reflected a pound gone. But nothing. Lo keeps telling me that it takes time and I’m building muscle, but I don’t like it. I want to see the fruits of my labor pay off, and quickly. This is why I’ve never stuck to a fitness routine in the past. The process takes too long and it drives me crazy.

Did I mention Smith has been around... a lot ? He’s at our apartment practically every night, coming in from work with all this swagger, wearing his uniform. He’s a great guy and he makes me laugh, but hearing Lo’s lovemaking sounds all night is not helping to boost my ego. Seriously, someone should get the girl a gag or something to make it stop. I’m happy she’s found someone who matches her over-the-top energy, but I’m starting to see cross-eyed from lack of sleep. Also, it feels kind of pervy for me to be listening, but my less-than-noise-canceling headphones aren’t a match for her.

“Hey, can you text my boy and tell him to cover for me? I’m gonna be five minutes late to PT, and I forgot my charger,” Smith asks, pulling me from my inner bitch session.

“Uh, yeah...You know we have chargers, right?” I deadpan, shooting off a text to Will.

Cam

Lover boy is running late because apparently he forgot this is the 21st century and we have our very own phone chargers.

Will

Thanks! Good morning, by the way. How was your run this morning?

I leave him on read. At this point, it’s becoming a little too obvious that he’s invested in my workout plan for ulterior motives.

“Your girl’s distracting...What can I say?” Smith quips, smirking and pulling me away from overanalyzing Will’s response. “So when are you gonna give Davenport a chance to break outta the friend zone?” He looks at me with a nosy yet innocent sheen in his eyes.

“Last time I checked, he didn’t want out of the friend zone,” I respond with every ounce of annoyance I feel. What happens with Will and me is none of his business.

“Yeah, okay . My boy might be too stubborn to tell you, but he’s been pining away for you for as long as I’ve known him.” Smith rolls his eyes.

“Is that so? Well, if that’s true, why doesn’t he tell me that or make a move?” I ask defiantly.

“Cam, look, I have to run since I’m already late, but you’re gonna have to trust me. My boy loves you, like big-time love, and he thinks he knows what’s best for you, all that ‘keeping you from hurt and harm’ bullshit, but the love is the same. If you have any feelings for him at all, it’s gotta be you who makes the moves because he’s too stubborn,” Smith rattles out as he’s headed for the door. And then he just leaves.

Shit! What am I supposed to do with that? Smith is a meddler. He means well, but he doesn’t understand all we’ve been through. He doesn’t grasp that Will had his chance and blew it. But he also doesn’t know that if Will made a move now, my willpower has waned and I’d likely give in. Even though I don’t fully trust him, Will’s been funny, sweet, and easy to be around.

“What was that about?” Lo asks, looking sheepish.

“Oh, you know, just your boy toy trying to get me in Will’s pants, so he’ll have more surfaces to bang you on around here,” I say sort of joking, sort of not.

Lo blushes and huffs out a puff of air. “While I can admit that he probably is a little selfishly motivated, he does know Will better than anyone—well, next to you, that is—and there might be something to what he’s saying, Cam.”

“I don’t think so...Will has never held back when it comes to getting what he wants. He loves the chase, the adrenaline of working hard for something and achieving it. If he wanted me, and that’s a big if , he would make a move. He wants to be friends; he doesn’t want someone who can’t even lose weight when she tries,” I say. I’m being way too vulnerable for this early in the morning, but if I can’t open up to Lo, then who can I talk to.

“Why do you do that?” she asks.

“Do what?”

“Oh...I don’t know, act like you’re some horrible, ugly, giant ogre that no one could ever possibly want? What happened to being body positive and a badass feminist and all that other empowering shit?”

“I don’t do that. I know what I am, Lo. I’m realistic. Honestly, you, Will, and Smith have to stop!” This might be the first time I’ve ever yelled at her, but in my defense, this conversation is becoming insulting.

This morning has been exhausting. First, there was Will being way too overinvested in my workouts, then Smith saying it’s on me to make a move, and now Lo. I don’t get it. I’m not trying to beat myself up, and I know I have some good qualities, but a life’s worth of comments and directions have given me evidence enough to understand what I am. I’m not perfect. My parents always made me wait to see if my stomach felt full enough before getting seconds. I wasn’t enough for Will to want to stay with—and believe me, if I looked like Camille Kostek, he would have.

Patricia and Dale Wright don’t sugarcoat things. They always told Elliott and me that we were replaceable. Not replaceable as their children, but in the sense of our society as a whole: You must work hard, be the best, and even then, there will always be someone better than you. It’s a good lesson actually, and one that’s helped me along the way in school, work, and in my personal life. It’s similar to what Daveed says about being the best you can in the middle: You have to give everything one hundred percent but also be realistic enough to know that even that might not be enough.

“Okayyy, so I know what I’ve said, and I heard what Smith said this morning, but what did Will do exactly?” Lo asks. I can feel the tension and disdain rolling off of her.

“Ugh...can we not? I need to get ready for work,” I say dismissively.

“You can get ready while you tell me,” she demands.

“Fine. I spilled the beans about my new fitness lady lifestyle, and now he keeps sending me workout ideas and asking about my morning runs. It’s pretty obvious that he thinks I need to lose weight. Why else would he care this much?”

“Are you crazy?” She looks horrified.

“I mean, maybe. But it’s just so obvious. If he didn’t think that, why wouldn’t he say something like, you’re perfect the way you are?”

“Tell me, Cameron, when was the last time you went around telling your friends that they were perfect out of the blue?”

“Well...I guess, I don’t. But he knows...he knows how much this has always been a struggle for me. The fact that he’s not being reassuring tells me everything I need to know,” I say with a shrug.

“Cameron. Jane. Wright. That boy couldn’t keep his tongue from lolling out of his mouth for half the race and it wasn’t from being out of shape. You are gorgeous. Inside and out, although this conversation is making me question the inside of you a little bit. When you walk into a room, men practically drop whatever they’re doing and stare, you’re just too dense to notice it. Furthermore, you haven’t given him any reason to be nice to you, and yet he still dotes on you all the time, like when he saved you from the bowling ball or switched out your stool at trivia so you didn’t fall. You are cold or callous toward him most of the time, and I know you think it’s witty banter, but to me it just looks like a mixture of hurt feelings and jealous rage.”

Lo shrugs and puts her hands up in the universal symbol of surrender. “There I said it, he needs someone strong and confident, capable of handling the shit they go through in the service and supporting him afterward. Propping up your ego isn’t something he’s going to want to do, and if you want a chance with him again, you need to get over yourself and quickly. He isn’t going to wait around in the friend zone forever. You need to make a choice—and don’t even think about saying you don’t want him back. As for the text messages, did you ever think maybe he is just looking for a reason to talk to you?”

Lo stomps out of my room without giving me a chance to respond. She’s never been mad at me over anything, not like this anyway. Maybe there’s something to what she’s saying. I’ve been actively practicing my self-demoralization skills a little more than usual lately. Since I saw Elliott, actually. Why am I doing this? How long is Lo going to be mad and throw this tantrum? More importantly, if she is right about Will, do I even care if he moves on from me?

I love Will, but I don’t know if I’m in love with him. Yes, there is a difference. You can love a lot of people and impact their lives with that love. But being in love is a whole different ball game; it’s more than just showing up, demonstrating kindness, and sharing memories. Falling in love is a joining of two souls, an experience after which you no longer have to carry the burdens of life alone. In many ways, it’s not a choice in the beginning, hence the falling part. It’s an all-encompassing need to be connected with that specific person, like our need for water or breathing. After time, it becomes a choice. The choice to keep going, to fight through the strange, murky waters that life continually plunges us into. Will and I have so much history that it’s easy to confuse whether that love is the deep-friendship kind of love or the over-the-moon kind of love. I know I made mistakes when he was leaving for the military. Is this just my inner self trying to right those wrongs, or is it possible to fall twice? What would being with Will for real even look like now?

I know nothing about his job, other than he works on base and is a soldier. Truthfully, I don’t really know a lot about him as a grown-up. Our texts have been entirely surface level, mostly gossiping about Lo and Smith, or him talking about how it is to live with Amy. I have a budding career, sort of. How long is he even going to be in Tampa? Don’t they move around a lot in the military?

There is far too much pressure coming from our friends right now. Will and I should probably talk, but I don’t really want to. I need to figure out my own crap first, starting with apologizing to Lo and trying to tame my inner voice. Body confidence issues are such a bitch.