Chapter 17 – October 11, 1993 – Camille
Things were much more relaxed. We had our routine, and we trusted each other.
I was getting riskier—braver with my advances.
But mostly, I was lonely. I needed to be touched, acknowledged by someone who wasn’t a greasy old man with a wallet.
I wanted to feel beautiful, less like a stray someone had picked up without knowing what to do with me.
I ached to be tempting to someone my age.
I wasn’t alluring to my other half, and maybe that hunger—to be wanted—also bred the desire to make him jealous.
And that’s exactly where things went downhill.
Dolly Parton crooned from the jukebox in a bar outside of Cambridge, Massachusetts, where it was slightly less populated.
When we got into town that morning, I knew my audience would be different.
Men in pullover sweaters studied for their bar exams under shaded oak trees.
This was Harvard territory, and I knew the type all too well.
These were the kind of guys I imagined my father had been—up-and-coming politicians and lawyers.
Plenty probably came from the same kind of life I did. Minus the unheard-of incest plot.
I poked at the ice in my Dr. Pepper as I studied the wave of college men around me.
You’d think I’d be on cloud nine with the number of options, but it felt more like choosing the right wire to cut to defuse a bomb.
A lot of them came across like my brother or my father.
Some already had dates. Others had binders open at the bar, studying over cheap drafts.
I’d never even entered the dating game. I didn’t know if I was supposed to make the first move or wait to be chosen.
Erich was nowhere near my hunting grounds, but he wouldn’t have helped, anyway.
He didn’t understand this kind of struggle.
All he had to do was walk into a room and he could charm whoever he wanted.
And the double standard he held me to was ridiculous.
Once he trusted me to find my way back to the motel, he had no problem leaving with someone prettier than me, only to return in the morning and pick me up for the next leg of our trip.
I was about to give up on my mission to find true love when snapping fingers beside my head pulled me out of my thoughts.
“Sorry. I hope I’m not bothering you, but…”
I turned from the TV in the corner to the man leaning against the bar. His smile was infectious, messy golden hair tucked under a Harvard baseball cap. Baby blue eyes, a rounded, boyish face. The sweater he wore had symbols I couldn’t begin to decode, and his rolled sleeves hinted at strong arms.
“I wanted to see if you’d come sit with us. You look a little down.” He pointed toward a table across the room. A few nearly identical friends grinned and winked—one pumping his fist while a brunette woman laughed beside him.
I opened my mouth, but panic hit first. My eyes darted from him to the table and back again.
He laughed, easy and smooth. “Come on, we’re harmless. I promise. Jake thinks I can’t score, so you’d be doing me a huge favor.”
He held out his hand. I placed mine in his.
He helped me off the stool, then grabbed my Dr. Pepper, swirling it before sniffing it. “Well, this won’t do.” He set it back down and flagged the bartender, mouthing “two” as he held up his fingers. Two cans of Busch Light appeared.
My hand was still in his, and the fear that he might think I was mute pushed me to speak. “Thank you, but you don’t have to—”
He waved me off. “My pleasure. C’mon.” He picked up both cans in one hand, fingers splayed to hold them steady. Thankfully unopened. “I probably should’ve asked what you wanted. Sorry. I’m bad at this.”
A small smile pulled at my lips. “Beer is fine.”
He led me to the table, and the reaction when I arrived gave my ego a quiet, welcome lift.
“A MassArt girl! Thomas, you scoundrel.” The nearly identical guy in the corner had his arm around the brunette I’d noticed earlier, raising his beer. Another friend—stockier, like a weightlifter—lifted his drink in a sloppy cheer.
I glanced down at the sweater I’d bought for my disguise just hours before. I hadn’t thought it through. Before I could spin a story about some fictional cousin who actually attended MassArt, my escort jumped in.
“Ah, shut it, Henry.” His grip on my hand tightened briefly before he set the beers down and turned back to me. “Henry, Kelly, and Jake. Henry’s my older brother, Kelly’s his girlfriend, and Jake’s Henry’s roommate.”
“Hi.” I forced myself past the shock and reached for something lighter—something closer to who I used to be. “Elizabeth. But you can call me Liz.”
Kelly leaned into her hand, a Cheshire-cat grin spreading across her face. Rings glittered under the hazy amber light of the stained-glass chandelier. She wasn’t intimidating—more like a stand-up comedian waiting for her cue. Her Boston accent was thick. “So—actually MassArt, or no?”
“No.” I lifted the hem of my sweater, inspecting the stitched front. “My cousin. I’m just visiting for the weekend.” Lies were getting easier. Too easy.
“Got it. Then why this little town outside of Cambridge?” Henry asked, lifting his beer.
“Don’t answer him—it’s none of his business.” Thomas shot him a middle finger, and Henry rolled his eyes. “Here—sit.” Thomas pulled out a chair beside Jake, and I lowered myself into it as he went off to find another.
Kelly talked with her whole body—hands slicing through the air, her face lighting up with every word. I couldn’t quite catch the story over the jukebox and the laughter from the table behind us. I leaned forward, trying to follow—
—but was cut off by the scrape of metal as Thomas dragged a chair up to the table.
I took a cautious sip of my beer. Watery, bitter—barely there. I swallowed anyway.
Jake was starting to appear a little green.
Between Thomas and Henry bickering and Kelly’s rapid-fire storytelling, no one else seemed to notice.
“Are you okay?” I asked softly, resting a hand on his shoulder when the noise dipped just enough to be heard.
Jake gagged at my touch, which made Kelly yelp and jump from her seat while Henry lunged across the table to grab Jake’s beer. Jake shot to his feet, nearly tripping over my chair as he bolted for the nearest bathroom with a hand clamped over his mouth.
“Dear Lord.” Kelly pressed a hand to her chest, eyes darting between the bathroom door and Jake’s empty seat. “How many shots did you feed that boy, Henry?”
Henry snickered—earning a smack to the chest. “He’s fine. He can handle it.”
“I think not—he’s barfing in the bathroom!” Kelly snapped.
“Ugh.” Henry rolled his eyes, pushing his chair back. “Guess I better drive him home. Sorry this was cut short, Liz—it was good to meet you. Maybe we can set something up tomorrow? There’s a football game.”
Kelly stood as well, raking her hair back into a messy ponytail. “You two have fun. Be careful. Looks like I’m playing nurse tonight.” She winked at me, waving like a prom queen before following Henry toward the bathroom.
“Wow.” Thomas gave me a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. I thought this group would be more fun, but I dragged you over here just to end up alone with me.”
My face warmed as I let out a small laugh. “No—I’m sorry. I apparently have the touch of death.”
His shoulders shook with laughter, nearly sloshing his drink. “Nah. Kelly was right—they pregamed before coming here, and Jake talks a big game about holding his liquor. Henry just encourages it.”
Thomas was a nice guy. Over the next two hours, he kept buying me cheap beer, and we talked about everything—and nothing—once his friends left.
I was drawn to him, the golden retriever energy in the way his face lit up when he asked questions or talked about his life.
He played rugby. He was studying business law.
One more year, while the rest of his friends would graduate in the spring.
“This is sudden—and if you’re not interested, no pressure…” He rolled an empty can between his fingers. “But it’s getting late. I could take you out to dinner… or bring you home. I don’t know. Are you staying nearby?”
I hadn’t seen Erich once since we got there. I had no idea where he was—or how he was doing—but the steady buzz of beer dulled my judgment enough to spark a thought: if he came back to the motel and found me in bed with Thomas, maybe I’d finally get the reaction I’d been craving.
“I’m staying a few blocks over at the Sunshine Motel,” I said. “We could order pizza and watch a movie?”
Thomas’s brows lifted. He set the can down beside the three he’d already finished. “That’s a rough place. You’re staying there alone?”
I nodded slowly. It hadn’t seemed worse than anywhere else I’d stayed, but maybe I’d stopped noticing. “I am. It was cheap.”
He stood immediately, keys already in hand. “That’s not safe. Decision made—I’m staying with you. You can make me a bed on the floor.”
I laughed softly at the irony. The thought that I already had someone who did that for me flickered through my mind. “You’re a true gentleman.”
He smiled, grabbing his jacket from the back of my chair and draping it over my shoulders before taking my wrist and leading me toward the door.
Thomas was pretty. Easy. Safe. I could have fun with him—and he wouldn’t push me into anything I didn’t want.
“What movies do you like?” he asked, holding the door open as the cold fall air hit us.
“Hmm… romances, mostly.” I pulled his jacket closer around me. It smelled clean—like a brand-new car or a department store. “But I’m not picky.”
“Sold.” He jogged ahead to open the door of a sleek 1990 Ford Bronco. “Dealer’s choice.” He took my hand and helped me up into the passenger seat.
The idea of Erich walking in later and finding us together took center stage in my mind. I didn’t think about how much Thomas had already been drinking—until he spun the tires leaving the parking lot.