Chapter 4
Cam
My history with Rafael Ortega is a long and rocky one. I’ve known him forever, so there was never that one solid moment where I looked at him and decided I was in love. It sort of crept up on me.
Every time he shied away from our parents constantly comparing us.
Every time he’d go out of his way to accidentally, but obviously on purpose, find me at parties, even after our friendship got weird.
Every time he’d look up at me through his messy bangs with a look on his face that confused me and gave me this weird fluttering hope in my gut.
The smiles and laughs, the big and small moments. Each birthday and holiday, every fancy event our parents threw. We’ve been there together through it all, even while we were at each other’s throats.
I thought I had to pull away from him for my own sanity, but it didn’t work. It’s always been Rafe.
That’s why I came back from college and bought the house next to his.
That’s why I keep doing dumb things I know will annoy him.
That’s why I bought Casagnoma and leave him out when it’s been too long since Rafe gave me attention.
That’s also why I should probably take a step back and remember he’s with Laura and I’m … alone. Still.
I’ve dated plenty of men, but I always end up feeling guilty when I can’t fully commit. Not while Rafe is still there. Still giving me the types of looks that get me curious and make me question.
I catch his eye across the festival and flick him a little wave. I know how much my carefree attitude drives him crazy, so I play it up a lot around him. If I can never have him, I can at least enjoy riling him up.
Small wins and all that.
Rafe looks murderous, which might be my favorite look on him. When it comes to who will raise the most money tonight, I’m confident I have it in the bag. The dunk tank wasn’t cheap, but it’s drawing a crowd.
“Great idea,” Mom says for the fifth time tonight.
She’s done up in her usual matching suit and updo, looking way too put together for someone standing in a field.
I’m a town councilwoman, Campbell. I need to look the part.
I’ve heard that from her more times than I ever want to relive, and when I glance over at Rafe’s mom wearing something similar, I barely hold back from shaking my head.
They’re both ridiculous.
The Ortegas are doing their usual bake sale, and I have to admit the setup looks good. I’d put serious money down that none of it was Rafe’s doing, whereas I love organizing this shit. Give me a budget and an idea, and I will plan the socks off it.
“Mind if I take a break?” I ask Mom.
She hands someone their change and turns back to me. “Sure. You feeling okay?”
“If feeling sorry for the Ortegas and their tiny line is okay, then yeah, I’m great.”
She waves me off indulgently. To be fair, they’ve actually got a good amount of interest—they do every year. No festival would be the same without their display of baked goods. And where they stick with tradition, we try to go for different.
There’s a splash behind me as I round the counter, and I turn back as Rowan Harvey emerges from the water, his boyfriend laughing maniacally. It makes me warm. Gives me hope that maybe, maybe one day I’ll have that.
I know there are people who leave Sunbury as soon as they have a license and a car, but I’ve never been able to understand the need to get away.
I went to high school in Port Welling. I went to college in Seattle. I’ve been on a road trip all along the West Coast, stopping at small towns and big cities along the way.
Nowhere is like Sunbury.
And that has nothing to do with the man eying me from behind his booth. I bypass the line of people being served and prop my elbow on the wooden counter at the side of the Ortegas’ booth.
“Mrs. Ortega.” I nod at Teresa as Rafe’s dad lets out a booming laugh at something one of their customers has said. Mr. Ortega is tall and loud and has the ability to make anyone feel comfortable around him.
Teresa’s lips pinch as she acknowledges me. “Campbell. Well done on your …” Her eyes drift to the dunk tank. “Idea. Very innovative. And noisy.”
“Physical activity always makes people hungry. I was thinking of you guys.” I flash her a grin.
“How thoughtful. Now, if you don’t mind, we’re quite bu—”
“Not going to serve your favorite customer, Rafe?” I watch his reaction over Teresa’s head.
The flex of his back muscles under the polo he’s wearing.
The tight fit of his jeans across his ass.
He’s been moving stiffly, and I know it’s because of my presence and him trying to ignore it.
I’ve seen him like this more times than I can count.
There’s something about knowing I have this effect on him that encourages me.
He glances my way as he boxes up a custard tart. “I already am. Isn’t that right, Mr. Rossing?”
Mr. Rossing takes his package. “Always the charmer, Rafael. Your dad has taught you well.”
And like he has a built-in radar for when he’s being talked about, Mr. Ortega looks over and notices me. “Campbell, great to see you. I’ve noticed the crowds you’re drawing tonight. I was going to come over and congratulate you when things calmed down.”
Teresa sniffs. “Gimmicks are good for that.”
“Gimmick or not, you must be raising some decent money over there, which is the whole point, right?”
“Exactly.” I try not to look too proud of myself. “I’m really working up an appetite too. Any chance I could grab one of those lemon—” Before I can finish, Rafe steps between us and shoves a box in my hands.
“Meringue pies,” he says.
I want to tease him about remembering, but I order the same thing every year. “Aw, we’re finishing each other’s sentences now? That’s cute.”
“Not hard when you’re so predictable. Maybe you should change it up occasionally.”
“I know a good thing when I see it.” I hold his gaze.
His mouth tightens. Teresa stares at me, and Mr. Ortega does his best to ignore the way the tension is coming in thick.
I don’t care.
It’s been a while since I let what other people think of me have any impact on my life.
“Rafe, you’ve been manning this booth for most of today. Why don’t you go for a walk with your friend?” his dad says.
Mr. Ortega, wingman for the win.
I can tell Rafe’s about to argue, and I’m not sure if it’s about the break or going for a walk, but probably more the claim that we’re still friends.
So I let the cocky expression slide from my face and try to give him something sincere.
I have no idea if I pull it off, though, because it’s been a while, but when I nod my head toward the back of the booths, he unties his apron and follows me.
It’s already getting dark, but the festival is probably at its busiest. These events in Sunbury attract crowds up from Portland, and I swear they’re getting bigger every year.
I lead Rafe away from the crazy and across the showground to a small creek on the other side of it.
We used to come here sometimes, when we were younger, and as soon as we reach it, I flop down on the grass and open my pie.
“What do you want, Campbell?”
I tilt my head back to look up at him. “Food. Want a bite, cupcake?”
He shakes his head and eventually lowers himself to sit next to me. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Not new information.”
“Is it possible to get more annoying with age?”
“Well, you managed it.”
I see him bite his nail from the corner of my eye. It throws me back to when we were kids and he used to anxiously bite them back until they bled. I cautiously grab his wrist and tug his hand away.
“You still do that?”
“No.” He quickly folds his arms.
“My mistake. I clearly got you confused with that other person sitting beside me.” I barely hold back from rolling my eyes. Fine. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, I don’t either. It does open up questions though. Like, why is he anxious now?
Finally, he says something. “It’s irritating when you do that.”
I pause, meringue halfway to my mouth. “Eat?”
“Pretend like you still know me.”
And there’s that flicker of familiarity I’ve been dying for. “People don’t change that much. As much as you might like to think so.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You think you’re all fancy and mature now. Like, cool. I’m happy for you to be so grown-up with your expensive suits and fast car. But once you remove that stick from your ass, you’re still the same guy I’ve always known.”
“And so are you. You’re still a dick.”
“As you reminded me the other morning.” I finish my food and close the box. “Still love those visits, by the way. They might be the highlight of my week.”
He snorts. “Your hookups must be lackluster, then.”
“Ahh …” I nudge him. “See? You have been watching me.”
“What? No. No, I just—”
“Peek at me through the window. How nice.”
“You’re not exactly quiet when you get home.”
“I’m not quiet while I’m fucking them either.”
Rafe chokes on air. “Not information I need to know.”
“Then why bring it up?”
“I didn’t bring up … that.”
I lean in a little closer. “You can’t tell me you’ve never pictured it before.
Being with a guy.” I’m messing with him.
It’s my thing. Make Rafe as uncomfortable as possible so he gets pissed and storms off.
Because as much as I love being around him, I also know it’s better when I’m not.
The conflicting feelings are a mindfuck.
Rafe doesn’t storm off though.
He freezes.
Something flashes across his face that I don’t catch, and when his eyes meet mine … there’s something there. Something dark and intense, searching me for answers. His tongue swipes across his full bottom lip, catching my attention.
And shit. I like to pretend he doesn’t get to me. I like to pretend we can coexist and continue on with this antagonistic acquaintances thing, but then he looks at me like this. Like he has a handful of times in our lives.
He breaks eye contact abruptly and shakes his head. “I’m with Laura.”
The reminder stings. It’s not like it’s ever far from my mind. It’s not like it’s something I can ever forget. Laura and Rafe are talked about with fond smiles and indulgent theories on when the ring and kids are coming.
It’s all complete bullshit.
Maybe they won’t get married. Or have kids. Not everyone needs those things to be happy.
But I’m pretty sure I need him to be. Which makes me feel like shit. Rafe’s hers. Always has been.
So I forget the looks he gives me and remind myself that I can love him all I like, and it doesn’t have to be reciprocated.
“Where is she tonight? I’m surprised she isn’t helping like she normally does.”
Rafe shifts and looks back over his shoulder. “She has a big job she wasn’t finished with.” Even though I don’t want to hear it, there’s a note of pride in his tone. “She headed home early to work on it. I don’t mind.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“Why do I feel like that isn’t a compliment?”
“Just saying.” I shrug roughly. “Rafe always puts everyone else first.”
“And again, I feel like that should be a compliment, but you’re making it sound like a bad thing.”
“If you’re interpreting it that way, maybe there’s a reason for it.”
“Yeah. Your tone.”
“If you say so.” He’s right though. I can’t muster up the energy for my usual teasing, so my words are starting to sound mean. What-the-fuck-ever. “Maybe you should go back and help your parents. They’re going to need it if you want to make even half of the money that I do tonight.”
With the excuse he needs to leave, I expect him to disappear. It’s no secret that he hates being around me. But Rafe doesn’t move.
I try to ignore that he’s sitting there. I try to think of something stupid and cocky that will make him scoff and leave, but I’m empty.
“You’ve got—” He points to the corner of his mouth.
And of course I have food on my face. I scrub over it roughly with the back of my hand.
“No, it’s …”
I wait, but he doesn’t finish his sentence.
He shifts closer, and then fingers lightly brush my jaw, tilting my face up toward him.
I’m taken so off guard by the contact that I immediately stop breathing.
Stop moving. Rafe’s stare is fixed on my lips, and mine is fixed on him.
The slight line between his eyebrows. The set of his strong jaw. He’s fucking beautiful.
His thumb brushes the corner of my mouth, featherlight and perfect. I want to grab his hand and hold it there, press it closer to my skin. But too soon, his thumb disappears and he releases me.
Seeing him snap back to himself is like being doused in cold water.
Rafe shoves to his feet, and I watch him walk away.
Like I’ve had to do all our lives.