The glow from the crackling fire shines on Cameron’s face as she stares into the burning logs and embers. She’s so damn beautiful no matter what she’s doing, but I know this picture of her, so comfortable and relaxed after a long, stressful weekend, is going to be burned into my brain for a long time.
Before Stratford went back to the main house an hour ago when all the campers left to go home, he’d been sitting right across the fire pit, looking through the flames at us while we conducted the camp’s usual end-of-the-weekend bonfire. The workers told stories, sang songs with the kids, and set up a table filled with s’mores fixings and helped them make as many as they could stuff in their mouths. Knowing Stratford’s eyes were on us, remembering everything he told me about how watching another couple in love makes him happy, and knowing how exhausted Cameron was after the long weekend, I leaned down and grabbed her feet, pulling her legs up onto my lap. I tossed her flip-flops onto the ground and gave her a much-needed foot massage.
Even though the time for putting on a show has passed since Stratford is long gone and probably tucked away in his bed by now, I don’t want to move from this position. She’s sitting sideways in her chair, staring at the fire, and her legs are still in my lap, my hands now resting on her shins. I know I’m supposed to be concentrating on trying to be her best friend again and nothing else, but I can’t stop wanting to touch her.
Taking her up to the treehouse the other day was a good idea at the time. I wanted to do something we always did as friends, but I quickly realized how stupid that idea was when it made her think of Aiden and the ring on her hand sparkled when she placed it on my thigh, reminding me what he was to her.
I’ve spent so much time thinking about him and allowing myself to grieve him since I got sober. I’ve spent months making myself remember all the good times and what a great friend he was and letting go of the guilt that I wasn’t here, knowing he’d want me to be happy and stop being so sad all the time. It wasn’t until I saw the sorrow on Cameron’s face and the sparkle from that fucking ring that remembering him started to make me feel like it did when I was drunk all the time—spiteful, pissed off, and angry. And then I felt like an asshole for being jealous of how much she missed him and how happy she looked when she spoke of him. I tried my hardest to hide it, but she knew something was wrong when I couldn’t even speak, let alone look at her. I couldn’t stand to see the misery on her face, thinking about the man she loved. It hurts twice as much that he was my best friend, and I feel like I’m dishonoring his memory by being pissed at him all the time. It makes me feel like the shittiest friend in the world because I know, if given the choice between Aiden being back here right now, alive and well and full of life, or Cameron sitting next to me, still unsure of our friendship and keeping me at a safe distance, I’d pick Cameron every time. I’d pick these few quiet moments, this small handful of days faking it with her, over a lifetime of friendship with Aiden.
I need to get this shit in check before I fuck everything up with her again. But sometimes, the way she looks at me…Jesus, it confuses the hell out of me. Especially when I’m sitting here wondering if she sat here by the fire like this with Aiden. If he ever rubbed her feet after a long weekend, kept his hands on her at all times because he couldn’t stand not touching her. I’m so sick of everything always coming back to my own insecurities and jealousy that I’m starting to annoy myself.
“I’m so tired, even my hair hurts,” Cameron says with a sigh, turning her head away from the fire to look over at me with a smile. “You don’t look as exhausted as I feel. How is that possible?”
Because you keep me so on edge, I feel like I’ll never sleep again.
“You get used to feeling tired all the time sleeping on cots in the middle of rain forests, and figuring out how to work through it since no one gives a shit about how exhausted you are when there’s people who are sick and dying and need you to help them.”
My fingers start gently massaging into her calves, and the little moan of pleasure that comes out of her mouth shoots right to my dick, making me want to shove her legs off my lap, jump up, and run the fuck away to try and get my head back on straight.
“I know you missed our annual birthday tradition while you were gone, but what else did you miss?” she asks, opening her eyes to look at me again while I continue working the kinks out of her legs, because I’m a glutton for punishment.
“Color,” I immediately reply.
She laughs, lifting her head up from the back of her chair to look at me quizzically.
“I have to say, Stratford’s weird outfit choices are growing on me,” I tell her.
I gave her a condensed version of what he told me about why he has so many strange rules about where his money goes during a few minutes we had alone earlier while he was talking to Seth.
“You have no idea how beige being in those medical tents all the time is, especially when we were in the desert. The sand is beige, the tents are beige, our scrubs were beige…even half of the food is beige. I missed reds and purples and especially bright green,” I explain with a shrug.
Especially bright green because it’s the color of your eyes. Goddammit I missed looking into those eyes.
“Okay. What else?”
I take a minute to think about all the things I missed when I was overseas, knowing Cameron was at the top of that list, but I’m not about to tell her that. She knows I regret pushing her away and why, even if it wasn’t the full truth. If I don’t keep things light and easy right now, I’ll be tempted to spit out a whole bunch of shit I shouldn’t.
Like how I forced myself to stop being in love with her a long time ago, but there’s no way in hell I could ever stop wanting her.
“The brisket from Lewis Barbecue. I used to dream about that shit.”
“They do have really good barbecue. That’s a good one. What else?” she asks.
I rub my palms gently up and down her legs while we talk, knowing I’m just torturing myself, but I can’t help it. It feels good to be sitting here with her talking like friends. Friends do things like this, right? I can touch her legs without it getting weird, and it’s not like she’s doing anything to move away or getting pissed at me for touching her. I’m reestablishing our friendship, that’s it. I’m showing her she can still talk to me like she used to and she can trust me to be a good friend to her.
“Magnolia blossoms. And don’t laugh at me because it sounds girly as shit, but I missed the smell of those things. I even missed how everyone in this town decorates every damn table with those stupid mason jars filled with magnolia blossoms,” I state.
“I’m not going to laugh at you. The smell of magnolia blossoms is my favorite smell in the world.”
I already know this, since she wears perfume that smells like them. Not only did I used to dream about brisket from Lewis Barbecue, but I used to dream about that damned scent. It would wake me up out of a dead sleep, and even in the middle of a war-torn country, I could swear Cameron was right there next to me.
Knowing I need to move things away from the dangerous territory they’re heading, I think of something I know will make her laugh.
I rest my head on the back of the chair, staring up at the night sky, and let out a sigh.
“But the one thing I missed most of all, the one thing I couldn’t stop dreaming about…was Guns and Posers.”
Cameron’s laughter echoes around the clearing in the woods, and I turn my head, giving her an outraged look.
“Don’t laugh at my misery, Cameron. It was torture going four years without them in my life. You have no idea the struggle.”
“I should have known you’d miss that stupid eighties cover band most of all. How many times did you drag us to every bar in Charleston to hear them play?” she asks.
“Clearly not enough since you still haven’t learned to appreciate their brilliance.”
“You’re insane. Just for that, I’m going to look up their schedule and take you to their next performance immediately. Maybe now that you’re older and wiser, you’ll realize how much they actually suck. I might have to break into my savings account so we have enough money to get completely trashed. You can’t listen to them sing unless you’re drunk.”
I start to laugh, but watch as her eyes widen in shock and she brings a hand up to cover her mouth. I realize what she just said, and know that after whatever Jason told her about me, she thinks she said something wrong, and I know it’s time to give her more truths.
“Cam, it’s fine,” I reassure her.
“I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say,” she whispers, dropping her hand from her mouth.
“I’m telling you, it’s fine. I’m fine. I wasn’t for a while, but I am now.”
I keep my eyes on her so she can see the truth in them and watch the worry slowly disappear from her face.
“Are you mad at Jason for telling me?” she asks softly.
“I was at first, but I’m not anymore. It needed to be said. I’m just sorry I wasn’t the one to tell you. I had every intention of explaining things to you, but when I got here, everything with Stratford just happened so fast and I didn’t get a chance.”
The sounds of the fire crackling, frogs croaking from the nearby pond, and crickets chirping all around us fill the silence between us as I watch Cameron get her thoughts in order.
“It’s okay. You can ask me anything. Whatever you want to know,” I tell her.
She thinks for a few seconds, then rests the side of her head against the back of her chair as she looks over at me.
“I know it’s selfish of me, but I almost don’t want to know. I hate thinking about you like that. I hate knowing you were struggling when you came home. And I hate that I got so mad at you and didn’t even stop to think about why you didn’t come here right when you got home. This is what I do for a living, and I failed one of the most important people in my life,” she whispers.
“You didn’t fail anyone, Cameron, especially me. I failed. It’s all on me, not you. I didn’t know how to deal when I got home. I just wanted the pain to go away, and alcohol was the only thing that worked. Until it didn’t. Until the pain still worked its way under my skin and into my head and not even being drunk twenty-four/seven could make it go away,” I explain.
“What made you stop?”
You. Knowing I needed to go to you and I could never let you see me like that.
I can feel Aiden’s letter in my back pocket, tucked securely away where I still carry it around everywhere I go. I wish I could pull the letter out and show it to her, but there are too many things written in there that I can’t explain to her right now.
“It was a mixture of things, but seeing the look on Jason’s face every time he came home and found me drunk or passed out was what finally made me get my head out of my ass. He made a comment about losing me, just like we lost our mom, and it woke me the fuck up. I never wanted to be like her. I didn’t want to turn into someone who was so weak that they stopped caring about everything in their life,” I explain.
“I’m proud of you. I can’t even imagine how hard it must have been. How hard it still is.”
“I’ve had a lot of help. I went to an in-patient, ninety-day rehab facility that dried me out. And I still go back every week for meetings. I made some good friends there. Other people I can talk to if things get hard or I feel like I’m struggling.”
Cameron leans forward and places her hands on top of mine, which are still resting on her legs.
“You can always talk to me. I know things are a little weird right now with everything going on here at the camp and with us, but I am always here if you need someone. Promise me you won’t push me away again. I can’t go another four years without you…”
She trails off, looking quickly away from me to fiddle with a loose thread on her jean shorts, and her words start fucking with my head.
I want them to mean something else, which is completely ridiculous. I want to stop feeling so confused and tied up in knots when I’m with this woman, but I don’t know if that will ever be possible.