Cami

Nate walked Camille home from school as usual. Her new cell phone was waiting when she arrived.

“Finally!” she exclaimed pulling the phone from the box as she shouldered open her front door.

Nate followed her inside. Camille didn’t have the energy to push him away today. Plus, even Poo liked the guy. So it seemed kind of inevitable that he was meant to be in her life at this point.

Camille knew sooner or later she’d have to tell Nate the truth about her cancer, but secretly she was hoping he’d just figure it out on his own. She hated having that awkward conversation. And in her own twisted mind, she sort of hoped the more time they spent together before he found out, the more likely he would be to stick around after. Because as selfish as it was, Camille liked having someone to hang out with other than her parents, Ronnie or her dog.

Nate lounged on her bed with Poo, while she changed in her en suite bathroom. She could hear him babbling baby talk to Poo and it was making it impossible to keep a smile off of her face. When Camille came out of the bathroom dressed for work, Nate was studying her wall again.

“Hey,” he said. “How come you write goodbye on all your photos?”

Camille shrugged. “I dunno.” Liar.

“Well, I think you should write hello instead.”

“Hello?”

“Yeah. You know, like hello world, check me out. I just swam in the Mississippi!”

Camille laughed. “You really don’t seem to get the concept of ‘I don’t like attention’, do you?”

“I get it, but it’s not true.”

“What?”

“You like my attention,” he said flashing a grin.

Camille’s cheeks flushed. True! Very, very true. “Maybe,” she admitted.

“Just not at school?” Nate asked.

“Nate, no . . . I dunno. School just isn’t my favorite place. The girls there can be . . .”

“What?”

“Girls.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means they’re two-faced. They’re nice to your face and then talk behind your back and I don’t want to give them anything to talk about.”

“Cami who cares what people think? Especially high school girls. We’re graduating in a few months. We’ll never see most of these people again. Let them say whatever they want. We live without apology, remember?”

“Right. I might need you to pound that into my head.”

“Want me to spell it out on your locker?” Nate teased.

Camille rolled her eyes at him.

“What? Too soon?”

“Come on Romeo, I’m gonna be late for work.”

Nate

Nate held his skateboard in one hand and Camille’s hand in the other, swinging it playfully as he walked her to Sweet Thang’s. Her moodiness from school seemed to evaporate, which gave him hope for tonight.

After the disastrous butterfly locker fiasco, Nate texted Ronnie to tell him to tone down the plans for this evening. Nate hadn’t been lying when he told Camille he had a date planned for tonight. And with Ronnie’s help and a little luck, he might be able to pull it off.

When they breezed into Sweet Thang’s, the shop was buzzing with customers. Nate gave Cami a quick kiss on the cheek and told her he’d stop by later. He rode his board around back to the narrow alley the storefronts used as a loading bay. Ronnie had outdone himself. Good thing Nate had said tone it down. He couldn’t imagine what it would’ve looked like otherwise.

Currently, one of Ronnie’s hot pink bistro sets from the restaurant was set up under a few cords of white lights. There were white candles and a simple gold vase of white roses on the table, which was covered with white linen. The place settings were gold and glittering, and a white faux fur rug rested beneath it all. A mirrored dressing screen stood in the corner, draped with fairy lights for ambiance. In front of it was an old-fashioned steamer trunk, holding a basket of blankets and an old wind-up record player. Nate walked over to it and saw the album he’d asked Ronnie to find was queued up and ready to play. Perfection. The scene was simple, elegant and hidden away—not at all attention seeking.

Ronnie peeked his head out the back door. “Whatcha think?”

“It’s perfect, Ronnie. Thank you.”

“Not at all,” Ronnie said waving him off.

“I’ve gotta run and pick up a few more things.”

“Okay, bebe. Just text me when you’re ready and I’ll send our girl your way.”

* * *

Nate listened to the rhythm of his skateboard wheels thumping over the pavement as he made his way down the busy streets of the French Quarter. He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face and he knew he had Camille to thank for it. Nate was usually a happy guy, but since losing Ty, Nate’s smile took more effort than it used to. Camille had remedied that.

Nate knew it was crazy. He’d only known Camille a short time, but already he was falling for her—and hard. He wondered what Ty would’ve said about it. He’d definitely be teasing Nate for crushing so hard, especially on a girl that was pushing him away. But Nate knew if he told his brother the truth, that this was it, Cami was the one—and Nate was convinced that she was—Ty would pat him on the back and give him one of those rare genuine smiles, free of his usual mischief. He’d probably say something encouraging like, “Go get your girl, little brother.”

The thought made Nate grin. He hopped off his board and kicked it up into his hands. He nodded up to the sky, letting happiness expand in his chest. “I’m working on it, bro. I’m working on it.”

Nate walked into UAL and a sales girl greeted him. “Can I help you find anything?”

“Actually, yes.” Nate pulled a Polaroid from his pocket and handed it to her. “Got anything like this?”

She smiled. “Let’s see what we can do.”

* * *

Nate left the store with a box tucked tight under his arm. He couldn’t wait to give it to Camille. He was already picturing the look in her brilliant gray-blue eyes. Every time he looked into her eyes he saw a little bit more of her. And each glimpse helped him find a piece of himself again and keep hold of it. It was like she was helping him rebuild himself—slowly collecting the pieces of Nate that had shattered apart when Tyler died.

But Nate was finding as he put the pieces back together, the picture he was building wasn’t just of himself anymore. He was collecting little puzzle pieces of Cami, too. Secret gems she tried to keep hidden. But they fit with his pieces seamlessly. Camille was entwined in Nate’s life now in an irreversible way, and it gave him hope.

Nate checked the time. He had one more stop to make before heading back to Sweet Thang’s.

Cami

“Baby cakes, can you take the trash out back for me?” Ronnie called from the kitchen.

“Sure.” Camille took off her apron and started gathering the trash bags.

“Thanks, sugar. I’d do it myself, but I can’t leave the glaze when it’s at this fragile stage.”

“I don’t mind,” Camille replied. “Besides, it’s sorta what you pay me for.”

“Yeah, but I don’t like making you do the heavy lifting ‘round here.”

“Luckily, your food’s so good there’s never much in the trash but napkins anyway.”

“Camille LaRue, are you dishin’ out compliments today?” Ronnie teased.

“Yeah. I guess I am.”

“Well maybe you should try some on that boy a yours.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s not my boy.”

“He could be. You clearly like him.”

“Stay out of it, Ronnie.”

Ronnie put his hands up in surrender. “What do I know? I’m just a clairvoyant genius, who’s never wrong ‘bout matters of the heart!”

Camille stuck her tongue out at Ronnie as she backed out the door leading to the alley. But the strange brightness and music that greeted her made her turn around. She’d spun so quickly she almost missed the satisfied smirk on Ronnie’s face as the backdoor to Sweet Thang’s closed with a heavy thud, then a lock.

Nate was standing next to a bistro set, under rows of glittering white lights strung across the alley. He was wearing a bowtie and royal blue blazer with black velvet lapels, and his brightest smile yet.

“Nate? What is all this?”

“It’s a non-attention grabbing, non-date.”

“In an alley?”

“Yes! It’s the exact opposite of the center of attention.”

“But like nine other businesses use this alley. We can’t just—”

He waved her argument away. “Ronnie took care of it. And he helped me make your favorite dinner. Okay, he did most of it, but he let me put the bacon on the sliders.”

Nate guided Camille over to the table, and pulled the chair out for her, placing a napkin in her lap before taking his own seat. He unveiled the silver domed platter before her, which revealed sliders à la Ronnie, which basically meant extra cheese and chocolate glazed bacon. It was Camille’s favorite meal in the world.

“Nate . . . I can’t believe you did all this.”

He waved her off. “Ah, it was nothing.”

“No, I mean it. This is . . . really nice. Thank you.”

His face lit up, rivaling the candles on the table. Camille fought back tears as she studied the beautiful date Nate had set up for her. She still couldn’t quite believe it. No one had ever done anything like this for her before. And the fact that Nate brushed it off made her want to cry, because she suddenly realized how abnormal it was that she’d never been on a real date, or had anyone make her dinner other than her parents or hospital chefs.

Camille took a bite of her dinner to try to hide her emotions.

“You look really pretty tonight,” Nate said.

She stared at him as if he were from another planet. Her pink and blonde wig was in a messy braid and she had at least one pen tucked behind her ear. She was wearing stretchy black jeans with holes in the knees and a worn-soft oversized gray t-shirt. She felt anything but pretty. Yet somehow, the way Nate looked at her made Cami believe she truly was—at least in his eyes.

And that subtle realization turned their non-date into something real.

“Thanks, Nate. You too.”

He laughed, tugging at the lapels of his jacket. “I feel pretty.”

Camille rolled her eyes, but smiled, happy to be back to their casual teasing. “You know what I mean.”

“I got you something,” Nate said, passing her a large box tied with a bow.

“What’s this?”

Nate wiggled his eyebrows excitedly. “Open it and find out.”

Camille carefully undid the bow and lifted off the lid. She dug through the layers of tissue paper until her hands wrapped around soft black leather. She pulled out the most stunning pair of black combat boots she’d ever seen.”

“Oh my God, Nate! These are for me?”

“I felt bad about ruining your other pair in the Mississippi.”

Camille stared at the boots. They were studded with shiny black gems from ankle to shin and the inside was lined with a pretty black and pink rose pattern. Plus, they had that buttery new leather smell. She hugged them tight to her chest.

“You like?”

“I love!” she exclaimed.

“Put ‘em on,” Nate insisted.

Camille pulled out the stuffing, kicked off her faded gray Converse and slipped the boots on. They hugged her feet like warm slippers and she wanted to sigh.

“They’re perfect, Nate. Thank you so much.” Camille stood up to give him a hug.

Nate wrapped her in his arms and she drank in his smell—sunshine and possibilities.

“How did you know my other ones were ruined?”

Nate loosened his hug, but didn’t let her go entirely. “I noticed you hadn’t worn them since we went swimming and then I saw them on your windowsill the other day. They looked a little rough.”

Camille laughed. “Yeah, apparently my boots aren’t a big fan of the Mississippi.”

Nate pulled a Polaroid from his pocket and handed it to Camille. “I sorta borrowed this from your room to show the sales girl,” he said handing a photo of her booted feet back to her.

“Sneaky. But how’d you get the size?”

Nate smirked, rolling up his jacket sleeve to reveal two marks on his forearm. “Traced it on my arm. You have surprisingly large feet for such a tiny girl.”

“Hey! Don’t you know you’re not supposed to insult your date?”

“Wait? Did you just admit this was a date? Never mind. Don’t answer that,” Nate said quickly tugging her onto the mock dance floor, outlined in colorful sidewalk chalk.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he twirled her into his arms, swaying to the soft music coming from an old record player she was just now noticing.

“The shoes fit, but the true test is if you can dance in them,” Nate replied, smiling at her.

He spun her again, and this time when he pulled her back, his hands found her waist. She could feel his warmth everywhere through the thin material of her t-shirt. Being so close to him made her feel like she was floating. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with her hands, which currently had a death grip on the lapels of his jacket.

Nate seemed to sense her nerves. He drew her hands to rest on the back of his neck, one at a time and pulled her closer. “You’re a good dancer.”

She laughed. “And you’re a bad liar.”

“Just relax. Dancing doesn’t require a plan, Cami. Just follow the music.”

She let Nate lead her in a slow circle, but her heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear the music. There was something familiar about the song, but being in Nate’s arms was intoxicating, and Camille found it difficult to concentrate on anything but breathing.

“I think this should be our song,” Nate murmured against her ear.

His voice sent shivers down her spine and Camille strained to calm her nerves enough to listen to the song. Recognition hit her with the ferocity of a freight train. Nate was playing ‘As Time Goes By’. She would know that song anywhere. It was from her favorite movie.

She gazed up at him, emotion tight in her throat. “You watched Casablanca?”

He nodded. “You were right, that movie’s great.”

Her heart skipped. She wanted desperately to say, you’re great. But she was afraid she might cry or worse, kiss him. Instead she leaned her head against Nate’s chest and danced until the song was over.

They danced until the record skipped. Nate stopped it and blew out the candles on the table before taking Camille’s hand again and pulling her down the alley.

“Wait. Where are we going?”

Nate grinned. “Our date’s not over yet.”

“But I’m not done working.”

“Yes you are!” Ronnie called.

Camille and Nate looked up to where Ronnie and Hector were waving from their apartment window above Sweet Thang’s.

“Ronnie! Who’s in the shop if you’re up there?”

“Quit worryin’ so much, baby cakes. I gotcha covered.”

“But—”

“No buts, Camille. I’ve been runnin’ this shop since before ya were born. Now go out and be young for once, child.”