Cami

Camille couldn’t stop laughing. Nate’s brilliant idea had been to buy new clothes at a souvenir shop on Decatur Street. The rule was they could each pick out an outfit for the other to wear. Thinking Nate was going to choose one of the rude or hideous novelty t-shirts for her, Camille went all out, buying him a pair of gold lamé harem pants with Who Dat? printed on the ass, and a t-shirt that made him look like a topless woman covered in Mardi Gras beads.

When they exchanged bags and she pulled out a tutu made up of Mardi Gras purple, gold and green, and a white tank top that read NOLA bride, she knew she’d won whatever little game they were playing. They both went into the dressing rooms and changed into their ridiculous outfits. Camille could hear Nate’s groan from the other dressing room. She had to stifle her giggles, picturing his face as he opened his bag. She almost felt bad—almost. But that thought quickly disappeared when she saw him come out of the dressing room, owning his new look. He shook his screen printed boobs and yelled. “NOLA gone wild! Give me some beads!”

Camille snorted with laughter. “You look incredible.”

“I feel incredible,” he said grabbing his fake boobs.

“This may be your best idea yet.”

“Camille LaRue! Are you having non-scripted fun?”

“Oh shut up and shake your boobs already.”

* * *

The walk home took forever. People kept stopping Nate to hi-five him or congratulate Camille on their marriage. And the looks all the uptight tourists gave them made every penny she’d spent completely worth it. To Nate’s credit, he rocked his ensemble. He even earned a few beads from a street performer on the walk home. Camille couldn’t remember ever laughing so hard. It felt good.

“So, what are we doing tomorrow?” Nate asked when they got to her front door.

“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” she replied.

“So?”

“So, it’s sorta family day at our house.”

“Oh.”

Nate’s crestfallen look made Camille want to take her words back. “Besides, I’m sure you have something better to do than spend everyday with me,” she said trying to make him feel better.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Not really. It’s pretty much why I get out of bed in the morning.”

He’d said it with his usual joking tone, but it tugged at Camille’s heart the way nothing ever had. Suddenly, all she could do was look at Nate’s big brown eyes and the gentle line of his perfectly kissable lips.

She swallowed, reluctant for their day to be over. “Um, do you want a ride home?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

The drive home went faster without the rain. And this time, when Camille pulled up to Nate’s, she didn’t make a face even though the house actually looked worse without the rain to distort the extent of dilapidation.

“I had a really great time today,” she said, truly meaning it.

“Yeah, I’ve been told I’m fun to date.”

Camille rolled her eyes. “You had to ruin it, didn’t you?”

Nate just smirked and closed his eyes, leaning against the headrest.

“Nathan Hawthorne!” she teased. “You better not be kissing me in your head again.”

“You know I am. And it’s a second date kiss. Steamy!”

“You’re sorta building this up in your head. I think the real thing might let you down.”

Nate opened his eyes and smiled in a way that took her breath away. He moved closer, his hand cupping her cheek while his thumb traced her bottom lip. “Not possible,” he whispered. Nate’s warm lips grazed her cheek. “Goodnight, Camille.”

In her head she said goodnight, but in reality, she’d lost the ability to speak—she’d lost everything, but the ghost of Nate’s lips on her cheek.

Nate

Nate lay awake staring at the cracks in his ceiling again. His heart was pounding. There was no way he was going to sleep anytime soon. Today had been the best day he’d had since Tyler died. And that feeling was both encouraging and terrifying. Nate loved the fact that he’d proven he could grasp that sublime joy that used to come easily before he lost Ty. Camille had a unique way of bringing it out in him. She was enchanting to be around, and it was impossible to look at her and not get lost in the glowing joy her shy smile evoked.

But at the same time, when Nate was with Camille, he thought about Ty less. And Nate was so afraid of forgetting his brother that it physically hurt. Sometimes he would think of Ty until he felt his throat tighten and tears prick his eyes. He wanted to be certain he could still remember every detail of his brother to the point of excruciating pain. Being able to call forth that familiar ache somehow made Nate feel less alone. And he was grasping for any way to hold on to his brother.

Nate closed his eyes and visions of Camille floated before him. If he thought he’d been drawn to her before, now he was obsessed. Seeing the fear in her eyes turn into a triumphant smile after they swam in the Mississippi was addicting. It’d awoken something in him, and Nate realized he’d do just about anything to continue to make Camille smile. And don’t even get him started about the way she looked when she’d climbed out of the river—all soft curves and wet clothes.

Thinking of Cami made Nate want to do things that he barely had the willpower to control. But now, with the feel of her so sharp in his memory . . . the way she’d clung to him, her chest heaving against his, the trust in her eyes when she took his hand . . . he couldn’t stop replaying it. Camille lingered near every time he closed his eyes. Nate could almost smell her lavender fragrance if he concentrated hard enough. He wanted to steal something of hers so he could keep it with him always.

Nate had never met someone so wonderfully intoxicating. Camille was like a snowflake—fragile and unique—and he never wanted to let her go. But he was terrified the fierceness with which he wanted to hold onto her would shatter her loveliness apart.

He rolled over and looked at the Polaroid he’d taken of Camille. Maybe if he looked at her enough he wouldn’t be constantly stunned by her beauty. Yeah right. He’d have a better chance of winning the lottery than not losing his breath every time he looked at her.

Nate thumbed through his collection of photos from Camille. He now had four. One she’d taken of him on the day they met, one of their feet in the Mississippi, and two of her lying by the river. She’d written Goodbye Mississippi on the photo of their feet. Nate thought back to the photos he’d seen on her Before I Die wall, realizing that they had Goodbye written on them as well. What a sad thing to write after such a fun experience.

Nate grabbed a pen and crossed out Goodbye, writing the word Hello, instead.