Camden

To say that I was thrilled to be leaving Toronto the next day was an understatement. I had slogged through nearly eight hours of TV, print, and online interviews, as well as a brief press conference with the rest of the cast, all under Kate’s intense glare. Every move that I had made in Toronto seemed to fuel her hatred of me, and even I had to admit that my behavior had been unsavory. Strike fucking two, I thought as I fished a pair of headphones out of my bag and placed the buds in my ears, hoping to drown out the deafening silence that now enveloped the jet’s cabin.

Kate, of course, was giving me the silent treatment and rightfully so. I knew she had spent hours the previous day telling tabloid reporters that my “gal pal,” Amber, had twisted her ankle and that I was gallantly seeking out ice to ease her pain. Even I had to admit that that was a brilliant spin but knew that I deserved to be skewered in the press for my antics. Beyond that, I was barely speaking to Amber, and for some reason Lizzy wasn’t speaking to Kate. Even Evander was upset with me because I had apparently gotten some sort of an untreatable stain on my lapel the night of the screening, and the jacket he had procured for me now couldn’t be returned to the designer. Bloody Hell. My eyes surveyed the prickly group and finally landed on Tony, who just shook his head at me, not sure what to make of the mess I’d made. I just sat back and lowered my sunglasses over my eyes, hoping to shield myself from the glare. You could, however, always count on oblivious James to break the silence.

“I’ve got an idea! Who wants to play strip poker?”

His voice was starting to irk me deeply now. I watched as he looked daftly around the plane, hoping to gain some support for his ridiculous idea. No one moved a muscle, causing James to deflate in his seat.

“Whatever, you all suck!”

For the life of me, I couldn’t remember what I had ever seen in him at this point. I suppose that fact said more about me than him, though, as James had certainly been unwaveringly self-involved and entitled since the moment I had met him. Nothing new there, I supposed. I snuck a glance at Kate, who was sitting as far from me as humanly possible on the plane. It irritated me to think that perhaps she saw me in that very same light.

I was just about to look away and resume reading an awful script that my agent had sent along for me to consider when I noticed the distinctly pained expression now marring Kate’s face. Her breathing seemed somewhat labored as she rubbed vehemently at her temples. My brow furrowed as I took in her obvious discomfort, looking around the plane to see if anyone else had noticed this, but of course they wouldn’t have; I was the only voyeur on the jet stealing glances at her like a lovesick schoolboy. Totally fucking pathetic. I wondered if I should go over and check on her despite the fact that I was reasonably certain that I was the absolute last person she would want to see —for any reason.

I strained to see where the flight attendant was. Surely this fell under her purview. I could see her in the galley, preparing the elaborate charcuterie plate that James had requested a few moments ago. She wasn’t paying attention to any of the guests in the cabin at that moment. For her, it was all about the squeaky wheel, which in this case was James, not Kate, who was apparently enduring some awful pain silently.

I sighed as I glanced back at Kate, who had almost imperceptibly begun to rock in her seat. Her usually rosy complexion had suddenly grown frightfully pale. I instantly went from mildly concerned to alarmed by her sickly pallor. I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing, so I unbuckled my seat belt, approached Kate cautiously, and gingerly crouched down before her so I could meet her gaze with my own. She had the appearance of someone who was just barely holding herself together, which forcibly demanded my sympathy.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” I asked gently as I rested my hand on her clenched fist, hoping to offer her some modicum of comfort.

Long lashes fanned upwards, giving way to a pained expression that nearly broke my heart. Her eyes were ready to spill over with tears as her brow furrowed.

“I don’t think so,” she whimpered helplessly just as she snapped her hand to her mouth, unquestionably willing herself not to vomit. Before I knew it, she had taken off at a sprint toward the back of the plane, presumably to pray to the porcelain gods in the loo.

“Oh, my God, please tell me she’s not ralphing!” James effused. “That is so foul!” Amber seemed to share James’s disgust and quietly grimaced.

I ignored them both and rushed past an alarmed Lizzy and Evander to go after Kate. Fortunately, she hadn’t had time to close the bathroom door all the way, and I let myself in behind her. Her petite frame convulsed as she got sick again and again. I did my best to sweep her hair back from her face.

“You’re okay, love,” I said softly as I rubbed her back in methodical circles.

Lizzy popped her head in the doorway with a tragically worried look on her face. “She looks frightful, Cam! Is she alright?”

“Calm down, Lizzy. Ask the flight attendant for a cold compress, some Advil perhaps, and a can of Coke?”

Lizzy was frozen, just staring at Kate with concern.

“Lizzy!”

“Yes! Cold compress. Advil. Coke. Got it!” She rushed off toward the galley.

Kate’s heaving had finally slowed, so I offered her a handful of paper towels, which she took while trying not to meet my gaze. I could only imagine how mortified she must have felt and stepped back to give her some space to clean herself up.

“Cam, I’m fine,” she said shakily. “Go back to your friends. I can take care of myself.”

“I know full well you can take care of yourself, Kate, but you don’t have to. Let me help,” I said as I stroked her hair, tucking a stray lock behind her ear as I looked into her tired eyes. I lowered my gaze just a bit to directly meet hers. “Please?”

She sighed, apparently too exhausted for further protest and allowed herself to be led into the private stateroom at the back of the plane. The flight attendant handed me some pills, a can of Coke, and the cold compress as we passed. I sat Kate down on the bed and kneeled in front of her.

“Are you having a migraine, sweetheart?” I said as I peered up into her fatigued gaze. She looked at me a bit puzzled.

“How did you know?”

“My…I mean, I use to know someone who got them often enough for me to recognize the signs,” I stuttered. Attempting not to meet Kate’s eyes, I pushed a pair of Advil into her hand. “Take these,” I said as I popped open the can of Coke. “The caffeine should help a bit, too.”

The corners of her lips crept infinitesimally upwards as she took the pills and two large swigs of the beverage.

“Now, lie down. You need to rest,” I said emphatically.

For once, she did as I asked without argument and settled into the mattress. I stared at her for a moment, wondering if it had been me who caused this. I knew all too well that migraines and stress went hand in hand more often than not. A wave of shame washed over me. Once Kate had made herself comfortable on her stomach with her face nearly buried in the fluffy pillow beneath her, I made my way to the other side of the bed and climbed on next to her. Kate immediately turned her head to me in alarm.

“Whoa! What are you doing there, crazy?”

I grinned at her. “Just relax. I’m going to rub your back”. She eyed me warily. “I promise, you’ll thank me later.”

Kate sighed and flopped into the pillow in utter exhaustion, which amused me to no end.

I turned on my side and propped my head up in the palm of my hand as I settled in next to her and began making slow circles on her back, stopping only to massage the muscles at the nape of her neck gently. She closed her eyes in bliss and involuntarily let out a soft, almost inaudible, moan that in another circumstance would have had me hard as concrete in an instant. I held it together, though, simply letting a stupid grin spread across my lips. After several moments of massaging away the tension, I could feel in her shoulders, those beautiful green eyes that had been shut just minutes ago fluttered open and locked with mine.

She sighed. “Is it possible that you’re not actually the devil incarnate?”

I chuckled as a smile crossed my face. “I suppose it’s possible, Katie, but don’t tell anyone. I’ll lose my street cred.”

Kate relinquished a tiny smile in spite of herself and closed her eyes again, allowing her body to just relax into my touch. I watched her intently as her breathing slowly evened out. After a few moments more, I knew for certain that she had nodded off.

I couldn’t help but notice how lovely she was as she slept. It was the first time since we’d met that I had been able to truly look at her without fear of her catching my stare. I was able to appreciate the soft contours of her flawless skin as it shone in the now dimly lit stateroom and see just how beautiful she was when she wasn’t scowling at me. I smiled a little, thinking of how she never ceased to put me in my place—which should have been an irritation but somehow had the opposite effect and lit me up in some strange way. Unlike most people in my life, she demanded my better self and it was difficult to admit that I may have put that person aside long ago in favor of becoming someone who admittedly was getting increasingly difficult to look at in the mirror.

I reached down toward the end of the bed for the fluffy gray blanket that lay across it and spread it out over her body, careful not to wake her as she slept deeply. I rested my head on my own folded arm now and watched her as her chest rose and fell in a peacefully hypnotic rhythm. It was in that moment that it began to occur to me how nice it had felt to be needed by her. Not to have someone need something from me, which was usually the case, but to just need me. There was a subtle difference that I realized I might have temporarily forgotten. The idea that I had been able to come through for her even in some small way felt like winning a prize of some sort. Not like a show-stopping Price Is Right sort of prize, but like one of those dumb blue ribbons you got in primary school, rewarding you for being “most polite,” or “best speller.” I oddly felt like I needed that right now. Some small reminder that at my core, I wasn’t just a ridiculously shitty person. It was a sad fact that my focus as of late had been almost exclusively about “what can you do for me?” Despite that fact, Kate had trusted me with herself just now. The crucial distinction, however, being that it had been out of necessity, not because I had earned it—a realization that had suddenly resigned me to the understanding that I desperately wanted that to change.