8. Cameron
EIGHT
cameron
Music throbs through every room of the house. It’s Saturday night and everyone is high off our win this afternoon, which has turned this into the biggest party we’ve had since the start of the semester.
Reeve keeps calling it my re-release party, but it’s the same tired shit: being congratulated on the game by guys too drunk to realize they said the same thing forty-five minutes ago, girls pressing their tits up against me, vying for bragging rights of being the first to sleep with me since my breakup. Still, it feels good to be free—Kira knew how to show up to these parties looking like arm candy, but she never knew how to enjoy them. Plus Lorenzo, who hardly parties anymore, let us convince him to get drunk in the name of his half birthday tomorrow and he’s fervently working on some kind of dance routine that tells me he’s seen too many ’90s boy band videos.
And then Lenni walks in and the night takes a turn. I didn’t expect her to show, mainly because I couldn’t picture her in this scene. And she does look out of place. Despite her tight jeans and tank top, she looks almost matronly compared to most of the chicks walking around in miniskirts and tops that I’m pretty sure are just bras with some extra lace glued on. But she looks sexy. Her body is un-fucking-deniable.
She smiles at someone, that wide smile that’s been etched in my mind since the night we met; that and every other detail about her. She was heavier then, with shorter hair that had this little halo of frizz that was extra noticeable with the garden lighting behind her. She was so pretty. Not the kind of pretty that stops you dead, but the kind that grows the longer you look at her, until finally you realize you’ve been staring for the entire conversation and you’re wondering how you didn’t notice at first glance that she could be the most beautiful girl you’ve ever met.
Reeve spots her and crosses the room to retrieve her, that “fresh meat” look flickering bright in his eyes. He’s as bored with this scene as I am, and when Reeve is bored, he always manages to liven things up at someone else’s expense. He won’t mean to, but he’s going to break Lenni’s heart.
“Cam.” A female voice purrs in my ear and a hand closes firmly around my arm.
I turn to see Alexis Truman smiling up at me. I knew she’d hunt me down eventually; I was just hoping I’d be drunk by then. “Hey.” I angle my body away. I’ve been trying to slide out of this girl’s grasp since we met last fall.
“ Such a great win today,” she says, leaning closer. “I, like, can’t get over how good you are. Are you sore?”
“Sore?” I don’t even want to know where this pickup line is headed. “Not yet.”
Alexis should be attractive: tight body, nice curves, cute face. But somehow, she just...isn’t. I have no problem with jersey chasers; they might be shameless, but they’re honest about what they want. But Alexis has all the worst traits of a jersey chaser with none of the redeeming ones. She’s clingy, gossipy, conniving. And more than once, I’ve seen her try to wheedle a relationship out of a guy when he’s made it clear he’s not interested in more than one night together. I’m just her newest victim.
Alexis starts talking about a massage class she took freshman year, but my attention is on Lenni, on her hip, to be exact, because that’s where Reeve has his hand, his thumb making little circles on her hip bone. I have to work to unclench my jaw.
I know I have zero claim to this girl. Whatever I thought I knew about her from the night we met, I was wrong. That girl wanted to be protected, and she wanted something that Reeve won’t give her. Does she remember that? I’ve been thinking for days about calling her out, but something settles inside me. I have to ignore her. She can be whoever she wants to be. It’s not my job to save her from getting hurt.
I watch Lenni excuse herself from Reeve, a little smile on her face. Not the follow-me-to-the-bathroom-and-fuck-me kind of smile but the sincere, uncalculating smile I remember from the garden. Reeve stiffens, his hand lingering on her until she walks out of reach. I’m halfway across the room before I realize I just walked away from Alexis midsentence. Whatever. I was wrong. I can’t ignore Lenni.
I follow her to the kitchen. She’s standing against the wall, tucked up against our beer fridge like it’s her companion, though she’s empty-handed. I take a beer out. “Hey,” I say.
She looks at me for a second too long, but I can’t tell what she’s thinking. “Hey.”
I rip the cap off the bottle. What do I even say to her? And why am I nervous? “Having fun?” I’m such a bore.
She shrugs. “I guess so.”
I don’t believe her. It makes me wonder how she usually spends her weekends, but that would be a weird question to ask. This is nothing like the first time we talked. It was so easy then.
“I don’t usually catch you around our parties,” I say, which is about the lamest observation I could make, but I want her attention. Her gaze is trained on Reeve in the center of the room. Sasha James—perky blond jersey chaser extraordinaire—has just sunk her claws into him.
“Not my usual scene, that’s true.” She crosses her arms, hugging her elbows.
Her usual scene must be more interesting than this. I wonder about the guys she dates. I’ve never noticed her with anyone around campus, but that means nothing. Her boyfriends are probably at least intelligent enough to sustain stimulating conversation, which is more than I can offer her at the moment, but does she remember the hours-long conversation we once had?
Lenni is watching Sasha and Reeve’s blatant flirtation, and it’s getting uncomfortable. Reeve is like this; whether you’re a guy or girl, he makes you the center of his world when he’s talking to you, but as soon as his attention shifts, you’re left cold.
But when Lenni turns to me, she doesn’t look cold. “Is it always like this?” she asks.
“Like what?”
She gestures to Sasha and Reeve. “Girls literally hanging on you all night?”
My first instinct is to say no, to try to make her feel better, but I don’t think that’s what she’s looking for. “Pretty standard.”
I expect her to get upset or roll her eyes, but she only studies me for a few long seconds and then swings her gaze back to Reeve.
I’d like nothing more than to completely sink this budding romance between her and my best friend, but my loyalty to Reeve demands that I at least try to salvage things. “It doesn’t mean anything, though,” I tell her. “Reeve’s not a total dog.”
She gives me a sidelong glance, a glint of humor in her eyes. “But is he somewhat of a dog?”
I open my mouth to tell her that’s not what I meant, but I catch myself; that’s exactly what I meant. “He’s a good guy.” Which sounds like a total deflection. “I mean, he doesn’t pretend to be something he’s not, right? Just look at him.” She does, and while she looks at him, I look at her. I don’t have a clue what she’s thinking. “He’s not for everyone.” So much for being Reeve’s wingman.
“Meaning?”
I probably seem like a shit friend trying to scare her off him, but this thing between them is so stupid. Who does she think she is, playing these bullshit games? Reeve is exactly who he presents himself as. Lenni is the one pretending to be someone she’s not, and I just haven’t figured out which version of her is real and which is posing. “Meaning, if you think he could end up hurting you, you’re probably right.”
And with that, I have her full attention. She turns her gaze on me, the spark in her steely blue eyes sending up a flaming red flag. I recognize that look—it might be the one thing she and Kira have in common. “What are you saying? That I should stay away from him?”
If I’ve learned anything from that look, it’s don’t fucking tell a woman what to do, but something makes me want to get myself in deeper with her. “I’m only suggesting you think hard about what you want from him.”
“Think hard?” Her eyebrows shoot up. “You’ve got some balls saying that when you don’t know the first thing about me.”
“I know what you’ve told me.”
“Which amounts to what?” She stands up straight. “Two sentences?”
I let out a short laugh. I’ve fucking had it with her. “All right, enough. I’m calling this bullshit already.” I turn so my body is square with hers. “Are you seriously telling me you don’t remember me?”
She gives me a look like I’m pathetic, which is fair given I’m not even trying to stop myself from acting like a child. “How could I forget? I never did get the stains out of that shirt.”
I stare at her. “And?”
She pauses. “And what?” Her expression morphs from confused to irritated. “What happened, we sat next to each other freshman year and you can’t believe I haven’t been pining for you ever since?”
“No. We sat around a garden for four hours and talked about our lives.”
Lenni freezes, blinks slowly, and stares at me, her eyes wide. “Oh my god, Cam. That was...you?”
She didn’t know. It lands like a gut punch. “Yes, Lenore,” I say quietly.
Her jaw opens like she’s about to say something and then closes again, her eyes still locked on mine. I can practically see her brain realigning itself as her memories shift, every word and look we’ve shared no longer some forgettable exchange with Reeve’s friend but instead a return to a night and a guy that came and went years ago. It did mean something to her. Now I’m sure.
“Wait.” She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head quickly. “That guy—I mean you...you told me your name was Forrest.”
My cheeks go hot. “I, uh, had grand plans to reinvent myself in college; totally douchey. That lasted until about hour two of football training camp.”
“Oh.” She looks out onto the party. “Well, I’d love to mock you mercilessly for that, but I guess I have my own name change to keep me humble.”
“So you never recognized me?”
“You looked familiar, but I figured that was because you’re on those stupid football posters all over campus. And it was dark that night. And you had all that hair falling in your face.” She smiles briefly, though not at me.
“And you hardly ever bother to make eye contact with me,” I can’t help saying.
“It’s not easy making eye contact with someone who walks around with his nose as high in the air as you do.”
Damn, she didn’t even hesitate with that one.
“Besides,” she adds before I can say anything, “that guy—Forrest—doesn’t seem like you.” She says it with such disdain that I think I’m insulted.
“Like you know me?”
“I know enough. All you guys walk around campus like you own the place.”
“All what guys? Football players?”
She shrugs primly. I don’t understand the hostility coming from her, but it’s getting my skin hot. Problem is, I can’t tell if it’s the bad hot or the good.
“Yeah, we’re all the same. Except for Reeve, right?” The words are out before I can stop them.
The look she gives me could cut glass. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I want to tell her how blind she’s being, how it’s almost funny how completely twisted she has things. But why do I care? I’ve been watching delusional chicks make the same mistakes for years. No reason to let it bother me now. Except it does.
I turn to her and lean in close. Her scent hits me like a wall, sweet and spicy and dark. I’d forgotten I knew this smell. “Stick around and you’ll find out.”
Her eyes bore into me. I recognize their color but not the angry way they flicker at me. I pull myself away and walk off, leaving her alone.