Coincidentally Kismet

18. Cam

CHAPTER 18

CAM

“WHETHER YOU LOVE ME OR NOT” - MEGHAN PATRICK

WEDNESDAY 7:45 AM

Will

How bad would it be if I intentionally hid Amy’s straightener this morning? I accidentally grabbed it to put it away after she left. Spoiler alert: it was plugged in and I burned the shit out of my fingers.

Cam

She might kill you in your sleep, Rambo. . . I would.

Will

I may never have identifiable fingerprints again...it feels like justice to me. You would miss me if she killed me.

Cam

In your dreams, Rambo.

THURSDAY 6:56 PM

Will

I just had the best taco I’ve ever eaten in my life. What are you having for dinner?

Cam

I don’t think it can be the best in your life when you say that about literally any taco you’ve ever met. I had chicken and broccoli

Will

How was your day? Still getting the silent treatment from Lo?

Cam

Yep! She glared at me from across the room for a minute and then got distracted by Smith...surprise, surprise.

Will

I’m sorry, that sucks. Want to watch a movie tonight? We can time it so it starts at exactly the same time.

Cam

No thanks, Rambo.

Will

Let me know if you change your mind.

Cam

I won’t.

Will

I watched a movie with Ruiz once, at the same time over Skype.

Cam

Cute, still a no.

It’s been another long week at work, and Lo has been giving me the silent treatment for days. But Will has been texting me nonstop, and to be honest, I’m relishing it. I haven’t made any decisions on how I feel about him yet, but with this fight between Lo and me still going on, it’s good to have someone to talk to. Not that I can tell Will what we’re fighting about...I’m pretty sure he thinks it’s about Smith always being over.

The longer the fight goes on, the more I consider what my best friend was trying to say. I’ve been crazy hard on myself when, instead, I should be my own biggest fan—though that’s easier said than done. I also need to make a decision about Will. Each time we talk, the lines get blurrier, and it’s not healthy for anyone.

Daveed and I had a long talk about it today, and no surprise, he agreed with Lo about my need to stop being so hard on myself. He went on and on about how many clients have requested me to do their scalp treatments, and he made sure to throw in that a few have been asking for my number, which obviously he didn’t give.

The kicker is, I don’t know how to make myself feel better. How can someone miraculously love how they look? Can I buy confidence on Amazon? My self-esteem hasn’t always been an issue for me. Of course my parents were realistic with my brother and me growing up, and I never thought I was a model. But Will broke me, and it wasn’t just when he dumped me.

Will has always been spectacularly above average—I’m talking walking dreamboat. Like Elliott, he can turn all the heads in a room without even trying. He never consciously played up his looks, but I never believed for a second he didn’t love the attention he garnered. A couple of weeks before he ditched our dreams and me, we had gone on a college visit.

Will seemed pensive during the entire tour, but right when we were going to meet my mom at the dining hall to head home, we walked past a sorority house. Some of the girls were tanning themselves on the front lawn wearing little more than scraps for bathing suits. Will’s eyes were glued to them. I tried mercilessly to get his attention, but it was like I wasn’t even there. Repeating the question I had asked him three times before he even heard me catapulted me into a serious spiral.

By the time we reached the dining hall, I was so furious over the blatant disrespect, I didn’t say a word to either him or my mom the entire ride home. Later, my mom came up to my room and pried until I spilled the beans. Have I mentioned that Patricia isn’t one to sugarcoat things. She told me that if I wanted the body guys dream of, I would have to work a little harder. And curse my grandmother for my bad genes.

I realized that night that I would never be good enough for any man, let alone Will. It didn’t matter the hundreds of times I tried sculpting my body into something resembling a stick figure, I was destined to have curves. Part of me wept for the adoration I would never experience, and the other part got pissed off. Truthfully, it’s probably why I begged Will not to leave me that night. I thought he was my only shot at some semblance of attraction. I didn’t want to be alone.

When I shared this all with Daveed, he sympathized. He said he used to struggle with similar issues, and it wasn’t until he decided to embrace himself for who he was, to stop wishing to be someone else, that he began to really come into his own. He explained that even if we aren’t coupled up with someone, it doesn’t mean we are alone.

After a fair amount of grumbling about Will’s brain cells not all firing, Daveed said something that struck a chord, something that gave me a new way of viewing loneliness. I’ve been repeating his words in my mind all day: “Cameron, just because someone is single, it doesn’t mean they are lonely. True loneliness comes from not having others to help carry you through life’s messes. You have a family that loves you, friends who think you walk on water, and me. Don’t settle for a relationship with Will, or anyone else for that matter, because you think it will bring you the self-acceptance you’re seeking. True happiness, fulfillment, and acceptance of one’s self comes when you let go of the fear you’re carrying about being enough and about being alone.”

It was such a profound statement, and so far removed from any angle I’d ever viewed my insecurities from previously. We strategized together on the best way for me to start moving past the stories I’m telling myself about how I’m perceived. My homework assignment was twofold: the next time I go out, don’t let anyone else pick my outfit, pick something I feel good in, and essentially fake it ’til I make it. And second, call my therapist for a session.

I agreed to try it, to try to not pay attention to the voice in my head that’s telling me what I think people believe, and to sit back to actually observe instead. There’s nothing to lose by giving it a whirl. The only problem is it’s Saturday afternoon, and I have no plans in sight for me to take my new perspective out on a test run. Speaking of plans, I’m desperate to make up with Lo, and I’m hopeful she will come home soon so I can give her the biggest hug, grovel on my hands and knees if I have to—oh, and also give her this bottle of tequila I picked up.

As if I summoned her, Lo waltzes into the apartment and slams her purse down on the table with a huff. Unsurprisingly, she’s been drawing out the drama of this fight. The girl gives major pissed-off-mom vibes when she’s upset.

“Lo, can we talk?” I ask hesitantly.

“Have you learned your lesson?” She stares at me, eyes practically bugging out of her head and hands on her hips.

“I think so? Is the lesson that you love me and don’t appreciate me bad-mouthing myself because I’m your best friend and you wouldn’t be friends with someone who isn’t a body-positive feminist?” I hedge.

“Yes! I do love you, but I won’t tolerate that bullshit, Cam.”

“Okay, I can’t promise that I won’t ever feel insecure, but I can promise to stop talking badly about myself.”

“Well, I guess that’s a start, but you should know this is about more than just the negative self-talk. I want you to feel like you can come to me, confide in me about anything, not just feed me the surface-level shit that you share with the guys. I know there is more to this story. You have never been this self-conscious in the whole time I’ve known you.” I notice a tremble in her voice. “I feel like you’re shutting me out while tearing yourself down.”

“I do know that. I really do.” I jump up immediately, sweeping her into a hug. “I promise to be more open instead of keeping all my fears to myself.”

“Good, now are you going to tell me what you’re so afraid of with Will?” She looks at me with tears in her eyes. I guess it’s now or never.

“It’s complicated. I care about him a lot. I think I always will. But, as much as he was my person back then, he hurt me along the way too. He always got so much attention...I mean, look at him.” I stop for a second to gather my thoughts. “There were times that I could tell he was noticing other girls. I don’t think he would have ever acted on it, but when he dumped me it was so cold and calculated, like he knew he would have better options than me where he was going.” Telling her this makes me feel a little guilty, since I don’t want her to hate Will.

Lo reaches out to hug me a little tighter. “Do you know for a fact he was doing that, or is that just the story your very hormonal teenage brain told you? Because from where I’m sitting, I don’t see a man who wants someone else.”

I smile at her. She might have a point there. “Well, maybe I was a tad hormonal at the time. But you don’t see a man who wants me now either.”

“Cam, when was the last time you really looked at him?”

“I look at him every time I see him. Since we are telling the truth, I might as well admit, it’s hard not to look.” I shift a little out of her embrace. This is becoming a long conversation for holding on to each other through.

“Tell me what you notice about him, aside from the physical stuff, because phew...I have eyes.” She shakes her arms out like she can feel his attractiveness. I get it. Boy, do I get it.

“Well, he’s funny and kind. He seems a little sad or tense, like there’s always something on his mind right out of reach that he doesn’t want anyone to know.” Walking over to the couch, I plop down, tucking one leg up under me.

“And what do we think that is?” she prompts me to spill, like I have the answer. I shrug because I really don’t know. Lo keeps going. “I’ll tell you, it’s fear. That man went through some bad things after he left you. I’m not going to give you details because it isn’t my story to tell, but there is a reason he’s afraid to be vulnerable. According to Jackson, it started with his dad and continued to pile on from there. Will loves you, it’s plain as day, but he’s scared to death.”

“What if I don’t want him to love me? What if I’m not good enough?” A tear drops down my cheek, and I wipe it away quickly.

“You are better than good enough. You are everything, I just wish you could see it. And as for what you want, well, only you can decide that, but I think you do want him to love you.”

“I don’t think I could ever trust him again. Without trust what do I have?” I shift anxiously on the couch, biting my fingernails and fighting tears.

“Will you ever know if you don’t try?” Lo approaches, sitting down next to me and wrapping me back into a hug. “Having insecurities isn’t foreign to anyone, everyone has them, even if it seems like they don’t. Relationships are never guaranteed to work out. Make me a deal, though. When you feel the worries coming on, tell me. I would never lie to you. Case in point, the new sweater you bought looks like it belongs to a grandma. Whatever you decide about Will, I’ve got you.”

“Two things. First, you have a deal, and second, how dare you slip a dig about my new grandma sweater in that beautiful speech.” I scoff at her while gently grabbing the bottle of tequila from where I stashed it behind a pillow, slipping it between us and making her laugh uncontrollably.

“So . . . you’re buying me off with booze?” she jokes.

“Sorta. Also, Daveed gave me an assignment, and I really need my best friend to come get drunk with me.” I give her puppy dog eyes for good measure.

“Sounds like my kind of assignment, what is it?”

“Well...I have to pick out an outfit that makes me feel sexy, get all dolled up, and then go hit the town.”

“Yes! I knew I liked him!” Lo shouts, releasing me from the hug, then standing and spinning around.

I don’t tell her about the other part of my assignment: sitting back and seeing how people react to me, instead of telling myself stories about how they see me. She would eat it up. But she’d also almost certainly spend the evening trying to point things out to me, and I need to observe everything unadulterated, for myself. Maybe I’ll share with her later, when I’m hosed on tequila. That’ll be entertaining!

She quickly tells me we have plans, already scheduled. In exactly forty-five minutes, I need to be ready to go to the beach, and I need to bring a change of clothes for whatever happens after. It’s almost like she knew I couldn’t stand her silent treatment any longer. She’s such a brat!

I scurry to my room, searching for a bathing suit that makes me feel good. Twenty minutes later, it looks like a wind storm swept through and tossed clothes around my room. There are bikini tops hanging from the ceiling fan and panties strung on the lampshade. The good news is, I selected a black sequin bikini. It’s got a standard triangle top, but the bottoms are cheekier than I would normally dare to wear. I’m looking for reactions, and this is the best bet for real, honest feedback since almost nothing is covered. Thank God I let Micah give me a Brazilian when it was slow at the salon on Thursday.

My beach bag is packed with the essentials: sunscreen, my favorite towel, the new Ray Riley book, and of course, my sunnies. In my overnight bag, I throw a bodycon red halter dress, my curling iron, a toothbrush, my makeup bag, some heels, and a lavender tank top. I have no idea what we’re doing later, so with my distressed jean shorts over my bathing suit and my favorite sandals, I’m pretty sure I have all the bases covered.

I spend a few minutes braiding the front of my hair into a headband braid, so it’ll stay out of my face in the heat, and give the rest of my hair beachy waves. I slick on some lightweight tinted sunscreen and peachy lip gloss, just because. I’m gathering the last of my things when Lo peeks her head in and says our ride is here. Wait? Who’s picking us up?

Lo hands me a travel cup, and by the smell of it, I’m one-hundred-percent sure it’s mostly tequila. I take a big swig...Oh boy! I think it’s all tequila. I attempt a muffled cough as she grins.

“You weren’t supposed to drink it until we added the mixer, ding dong,” she cheerily tells me.

Off to a great start! We head downstairs and sweep up to not one, but two Jeeps with their tops down, doors off. Excitement vibrates under my skin; I love convertibles! Sweeping my eyes over the vehicles, I notice there’s a spot for Lo in the first one, front seat since Smith is driving and Ruiz is already sprawled out in the back.

That’s when I hear it, a growly, almost unrecognizable, “Wright, you’re with us!” Is Will sick? It sounds like his tongue is stuck in his throat. I make eye contact with him, not that he can tell since I’m wearing my sunnies. Oh...he’s not sick. There’s heat in his eyes, and he looks possessive as fuck. I glance quickly around me and then it hits me—he’s looking at me like that. My stomach does a backflip, but I don’t dawdle. I hop into the stunning black Jeep, deliberately shimmying a little extra to get comfortable while I greet Amy and Butler, before turning to him. “Hey, Rambo.”

Waves crash against the shore in a rhythmic and soothing beat, and white sand is buried between my toes. I’m relaxed, thrilled to be spending the afternoon at the beach with my friends. Having an actual group of people I can refer to as my friends is so refreshing. I’ve had people I can rely on, but feeling like I actually fit into a group for the first time since moving to this city is exhilarating.

The ride here was the most fun I have had in a while. Will and I bumped the music and sang like idiots at the top of our lungs to some nineties throwbacks like LFO and my girl Britney. Will belting out all of the words to “Space Cowboy” by everyone’s favorite boy band though...epic!

Lo made us drinks as soon as we arrived, and I’ve been chilling on my towel, soaking up the sun and the view. I’m not talking about the ocean, ladies. Being with a bunch of dudes who are required to be in shape for their job is far from a hardship. Will has the best body, I get goose bumps just looking at him wearing his low-slung blue board shorts, the kind that show that perfect V, pointing like an arrow directly down to other admirable parts of him. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my old friend down below, but I can recall what he looks like vividly, much to my dismay.

Will is flaunting every curve and swell of his perfectly tanned muscles. He’s throwing a football with Smith. If I was a betting woman, I’d say he’s flexing a little harder than needed with every toss. Thank the good lord that I chose my darkest sunglasses—I’m rapidly approaching creepy stalker territory with how much I’m starring.

Lo smirks knowingly at me from her towel. “Are you going to take off those shorts and go for a swim with me?” she asks. I silently weigh my options: I could sit here and read my book and leave it all to the imagination, or I could take the shorts off and walk down to the water and see if anyone even notices. Daveed’s voice, like a little devil on my shoulder, whispers to me... “Cam, shake that ass, girl!”

“Yeah, sure, let’s do it,” I tell her.

I make my way to stand and slowly pull off the shorts. No one is looking, so I’m not sure why I’m moving in slo-mo, but whatever. I take two big gulps of my drink, make sure I have a hair tie in case I go in deep enough for my hair to get wet, and adjust my top for maximum lift.

We make our way down to the water, snaking directly across the boys’ throwing area. Thanks, Lo . I pass by Will, and he grumbles almost inaudibly, “Ohhh fuck me,” or at least I think that’s what I hear. Smiling to myself, I wade into the warm water with Lo, taking extra care to shuffle my feet. Stingrays are no joke!

Suddenly, there’s a huge splash beside me, and something latches on to my leg. I scream, jumping like my life depends on it, prepared fully to pull a Michael Phelps and haul ass out of the water. Bulging, strong arms wrap me up before I can make my great escape. Will’s vibrating laughter is sealed against my back, his hot minty breath wafting on my neck when he utters, “Gotcha.”

“Rambo! You about gave me a heart attack,” I shout breathlessly.

He tugs at my hand, pulling me out a little deeper in the water. “You in that suit is giving every man on the beach a heart attack, Wright. I was just doing a public service.” He feigns innocence, but the darkening pools of those cerulean eyes paint a very different picture.

I roll my eyes, the corner of my lips turning up into a shy smile. He pulls me toward him, sucking me into one of those hugs in the water where one person essentially holds the other up weightlessly.

“What are you doing?” I ask, splashing water at him.

“Just hanging out with my friend.” He shrugs, a lopsided grin blooming on his face.

I grab on, wrapping my legs around his waist. “I’m a little glad we are friends,” I admit.

“That so? Coulda fooled me, Wright.” He winks. Shit, this is a very bad idea. Warmth fills my belly, then slips down lower.

“Nah, just fucking with you, Rambo. I am completely unaffected by your friendship,” I lie, as an impressive steellike rod pushing against my inner thigh makes an appearance. Umm...well, let’s just say it doesn’t seem grossed out, and it also doesn’t feel friendly, but I’m still not sure if it’s a win or not.

Will holds me for a few minutes, waves bobbing against us as we ignore the clear way our bodies react to each other. I tuck my head under his chin, listening to the sounds of the ocean mixing with his heart beat. He’s so strong, he smells divine, and I want him more than I’ve wanted anything in a very long time. I’m not sure what’s going to come out of my mouth, but feeling brave, I lift my chin to say something, anything. As I do, he sets me down on my feet with a splash.

The water is startlingly cold outside of his embrace, goose bumps returning to my skin for completely different reasons. “G-gotta get more sunscreen,” he mumbles, as he shuffles his way to the shore without another word. Gahhh! We were having a moment. Did I do something wrong? Was he just being playful and my cuddling him in a non-friendly way became too much? It didn’t feel like too much, but we did agree to be friends.

I steal a glance at Lo, expecting her to be fully wrapped up in Smith. Instead, they’re both looking at me with pained sympathy in their eyes. To hell with it. I head back to my towel, my tequila, and my book. At least Ray’s mystery romance featuring a hot Hispanic man won’t let me down!