Chapter Eleven. Wasted
Chapter Eleven
WASTED
Lunch provided the motivation Cam needed to keep pushing, and after her conversation with Danny, she found it easier to plaster a smile onto her face. When it was time to leave for the day, she had a decent showing of tips, and she was proud enough of her work to confirm she’d be back tomorrow.
Danny left when she did, promising to take her to the beach. He claimed her feet in the sand would eliminate any remaining anxiety, and he was right. At the first touch of warmth, she dropped, spreading across the surface like a child making a snow angel.
“This is incredible,” she said, smiling up at the sky. “Do you ever get sick of it?”
He sat beside her. “Nah. It’s impossible to get sick of something so beautiful.”
“And in the winter?”
“I still love it. It’s just cold.”
“Very cold.” She traced her fingers through the sand, her thoughts wandering. “The beach reminds me of my mom. She always jokes that I’ll get rich and buy her and my dad a house on the water.”
“And what makes Camille Luna into a tycoon?” he asked, teasing.
“Beats me. She just always says I’m smart. Ambitious.” She laughed. “Look how wrong she is. I’m a fucking burnout now.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the biggest scam in life.
We grow up with people whispering in our ears about how incredible we are and it’s just …
not true.” He held up his right arm, flexing it.
“My sophomore baseball season, my fastball hit the upper eighties. And suddenly, my dad’s talking about D1. It was bullshit.”
“Isn’t that fast for a high schooler?”
“It is, but I was inconsistent, especially next to the guys playing year-round travel ball. I wasn’t special, because most of us aren’t.
Most of us are middle of the pack, and that’s okay.
We shouldn’t have to be the best.” He shifted his attention to the darkening sky.
“At least that’s my philosophy. You four thought differently.
It was kinda … hard for me to fit in with you guys for that reason, ya know? ”
“What do you mean?” she asked, sitting up.
“I just think … shit’s supposed to be fun.
Remember when Drew convinced us to join the intramural soccer team?
It was supposed to be a few hours a week of fun—and it was, until we started losing, and Morgan and Cory volunteered to coach.
Suddenly I’m running hills and sprints like I’m in high school, because my friends can’t comprehend the thought of losing.
I was there to hang with my buds, mess around, get some fresh air. I didn’t care about winning.”
He sighed. “I’m just … not like the rest of you. I guess that makes me the odd one out.”
“That’s not true! We had an amazing college experience together.”
“I know, and I love you guys. But … the four of you were always studying together. Then you and Cory were dating, and Drew was chasing Morgan for a while. I didn’t always fit into the equation.”
“But we hung out all the time!”
“It’s more than that.” He cracked his knuckles. “Towards the end of freshman year, when everyone started talking about housing, Cory and Drew decided they were gonna live together. But … they didn’t ask me.”
“What are you talking about? You three lived together from sophomore year to graduation.”
“We did. But … I wasn’t their first choice.
Cory’s freshman roommate was gonna take the third bedroom.
But then he got picked to be an RA, and suddenly they needed someone.
I’ve always been the fifth wheel. To you and Cory, to Drew and Morgan.
To you and Morgan, to Drew and Cory. Then there’s just … me.”
“But … you and Drew see each other all the time—”
“Sure, we’ve gotten closer because we live nearby. But I didn’t have the immediate connection you had with everyone.” He cleared his throat, his gaze dropping to the sand. “Cam, you were the sun. They orbited around you.”
“That’s not true! We wouldn’t be who we are without you. As a group, as people. We needed you. You balanced us. You made us have fun and—”
“Someone needed to,” he interrupted, “because you four had sticks up your asses.”
She laughed. “Danny!”
“It’s true. Morgan once threw me out of your apartment because she was freaking out about a cover letter and got mad I was booking tickets to Bali on your sofa.”
“That sounds like Morgan.” At the mention of Bali, and the memory of their discussion earlier, she grew curious. “Will you tell me about your trip? I feel like I only ever heard the highlights.”
“No one asked for the specifics.”
“Danny—”
“When I got back,” he said, “there was a lot of shit going on. Beau was gone and things were weird with you and Cory, so … it didn’t matter.”
Cam swallowed, her cheeks heating, like her body was fighting waterworks.
Thinking back to her first year after graduation always sent her into a depressive state.
Cory was no longer her go-to contact, Danny was gone half the year, Drew was forced to take the bro side, and Morgan was around infrequently, being worked to the bone by her new job.
Yet it wasn’t those memories making her sad.
It was Danny.
Had they really shown so little interest in his monumental trip? Did no one sit him down, begging for every dirty detail?
What the hell had she been doing?
Licking my wounds. Wallowing in self-pity. Crying about loan payments.
Cam shuddered, shaking off the scathing voice in her head. She needed to fix this, even if she was nearly four years too late.
“Tell me everything,” she begged. “How many countries did you visit? Which was your favorite? What was the best food you ate? Did you—”
He laughed. “Slow down, Milly. I visited eight and it’s hard to pick a favorite. I loved Vietnam. I loved Thailand. The Philippines was incredible, and the people were so friendly. I—”
Against the sound of the waves, his soothing voice walked her through six months of travels. Surfing in Bali, snorkeling in Palawan, boating through the Phi Phi Islands, exploring H?i An, eating through hawker centers in Singapore …
In the moonlight, he glowed, his smile contagious.
She devoured every detail. But the more he discussed his travels, the more her imagination wandered.
Danny was a social butterfly—surely he hadn’t spent the trip alone.
Was he traveling with legions of beautiful, adventurous women?
And why did that hypothetical send uncomfortable prickles across her skin?
The question was out before she could stop herself: “Did you meet anyone?”
“I met lots of people. That’s why you stay at hostels. The cost, obviously, but also to make friends.”
“Right, but did you meet … you know…”
“No, I don’t know.” He leaned towards her, grinning. “Since when are you so bashful?”
“I don’t know!” she cried. “We just don’t always talk about this sort of thing.”
“Right. Well…” He shrugged. “There were a couple of girls.”
“Tell me about them.” Each word was rough, her mouth inexplicably dry.
“Cam … I’d rather not.”
“Why?”
“Because I know how you are. You four always flipped out at the shit I did, and let’s just say these stories aren’t exactly typical boy meets girl.”
“Name one time!”
“When Morgan found my bong, that time I did shrooms before—”
“We’re older now!” she interrupted. “And it’s just me. You should feel comfortable being completely honest. I don’t want you to hide yourself.”
He bit his lip, staring at the sand. “If I’m honest with you,” he said, “will you finally tell me what really happened between you and Cory?”
The request surprised her, but she would’ve told him anything to hear about the mystery women. “Deal.”
“Okay. It was August. I met some British guys at my hostel in Bangkok. They invited me to go partying with them, so we hopped around a few bars before hitting one of the biggest clubs in the city, where I met this girl from Indianapolis. I don’t remember her name. I was … pretty fucked up.”
“Fucked up?”
“Yeah. I was drunk and … there might’ve been other stuff involved.”
“Other stuff?” She felt like a parrot, repeating his words back to him. “What kind of other stuff?”
“The guys had some pills, so…” He shrugged.
Cam blinked, struggling to process the story. “You took a pill that a stranger gave you in a club?”
“I’d been hanging with the guys for days, so they weren’t strangers. But this is exactly my point!” he snapped.
“Do you know how irresponsible it is to take a random pill at a club? It could’ve been anything.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Christ, Cam. I know, okay? But I was twenty-two and I wanted to have fun. I wanted to forget. So yeah, I partied, I got fucked up, and I did some stupid shit. But I’m here to tell the tale, so I don’t have any regrets.”
“What were you trying to forget?”
He exhaled. “Are we done?”
“No! Is that all there is to the story?”
“What do you want me to say?” he replied roughly. “That Indianapolis and I fucked in the bathroom?”
“Did you?”
He stared ahead, his lips curled, his fingers digging into his knees.
The silence said enough.
What possessed her to bring this up?
“Right. And the other one?” she asked.
“Her name was Gemma. She was Australian. I met her in Singapore, and we traveled together for a few days.”
There had to be more to the story, but after her reaction to his club shenanigans, he was clearly hesitant to share. “Cool,” she whispered. “It sounds like you … had a great time.”
“Yeah.”
“Danny.” She grabbed his arm and tugged, forcing him to look at her. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s not my business to judge what anyone does. I just … worry. I don’t want anything to happen to the people I care about.”
“I like being cared about,” he replied, “but Cam, sometimes you are so consumed with worry I think you forget how to live. And I don’t mean random pills in clubs.”
“I’ve never been to a club.” She pulled her knees to her chest. “There’s a lot I haven’t done.”
“Well, if Molly is on your bucket list, there’s a creep who sells it behind Maloney’s Hardware on Burton Street.”
“And why do you know that?”