Nate

Nate followed Camille to a small café on Royal Street. It had a green and white striped awning and the words Café Beignet spelled out in tiny black and white tiles on the checkered floor.

“What is this place?” Nate asked as they walked inside.

“Only my favorite place in the French Quarter.”

Nate could see why. It was like he’d walked into a dreamscape. The low ceiling was curved and narrow like the inside of a school bus. Someone had painted it to resemble a blue sky, complete with fluffy white clouds and tropical palm fronds. The white bistro dining sets and sparkling chandeliers made him think of Paris. At least, how he imagined Paris.

He followed Camille to the counter, listening carefully to the hint of French accent flavoring her voice as she ordered beignets and two café au laits. They snagged a table in the outdoor courtyard, listening to a charm of finches sing in the trees overhead.

“So this is your place, huh?” Nate asked.

“Kinda. I like to come here and just escape. Especially when I need a sugar fix,” she said, dumping six packets of sugar into her coffee and stirring.

“I knew you were a sugar fiend like me.”

She laughed. “You have no idea. But my mom won’t even let it in the house.”

“I bet I do. My mom’s a PNS.”

“Yikes! That is rough. Were you allowed to eat anything she didn’t grow herself?”

Nate’s brows knitted together. “You’re the first person I’ve ever met who I didn’t have to explain PNS to.”

Camille flushed. “I was kinda interested in it for a while.”

“I don’t think you can be a sugar freak and a doctor who specializes in diets that prevent illness,” Nate added.

“Yeah, I sorta figured that out. But my mother still makes my father and I eat like we’re training for a triathlon.”

Nate took a sip of his coffee. It was strong and had a bit of tree bark bite. He tried not to make a face, but Camille’s smirk told him he didn’t succeed.

“It’s the chicory. It takes a bit to get used to,” she added. “But once you do, you’ll never go back to regular old coffee.”

Truthfully, Nate wasn’t much of a coffee guy. He had enough energy as it was. Plus, with his addiction to all things sugary, he didn’t need the extra high. But he did enjoy wrapping his long fingers around the foam cup. There was a chill in the swampy air even though it was almost April. He wasn’t used to the humidity, yet. It made everything feel clingy and heavy. He was about to ask Camille if she was cold when a waiter arrived carrying two plates of powered pastries.

“What are these?” Nate asked, examining the pillow-shaped dough. There had to be half a pound of powdered sugar coating them.

“These, are the best donuts in town,” she said. “But we call them beignets in N’awlins,” she added with a playful grin.

Christ her grin was adorable. It made the apples of her cheeks curve into perfect circles that he literally wanted to bite.

“This is the best way to eat them,” she remarked dumping the excess sugar from one of the beignets into her coffee before taking a bite.

Nate was mesmerized for a moment as he watched the powered sugar float down in a shimmering cloud from Camille’s lips. Specks clung to her porcelain face and he wanted to lick them off. So he did.

Nate licked his thumb and reached across the table to press it to the sugar near the corner of Camille’s mouth. She gasped, but he’d already sucked the sugar from his thumb, swearing it was sweeter having touched her skin.

“Um, okay, that goes into the same category as hair sniffing.”

“Not approved?” Nate asked.

“Definitely not approved.”

“Noted,” Nate said, though if he was honest, he wasn’t one bit sorry. He was trying to rein in his attraction to Camille, but Nate wasn’t used to denying himself the things he wanted. It was sort of his new life motto. No Regrets.

But it was a bit different now that he found himself wanting a person. He knew he should restrain himself. Camille wasn’t giving him the come hither stare that invited such advances. But he couldn’t help himself. With her silver hair, shimmering pale skin, and gray-blue eyes, Camille had an otherworldly glow that drew him in. She was a flame and Nate was just another hopeless moth.

To distract himself, Nate bit into his beignet and moaned. “Shit!”

Camille almost gave him a full smile. “I know. Good, right?”

“Good doesn’t even begin to describe these.” He took another bite, savoring the warm fluffy pastry. It was buttery and soft, and combined with the powdered sugar it tasted like love in food form. “These are like heavenly pillows!”

He shoved the rest of the beignet into his mouth and started on the second one. Before he knew it he was holding up his third and final pastry. “Damn!” Nate exclaimed, staring down the delicious dessert. “Where have you been all my life?”

Cami

Camille was looking at Nate, wondering the same thing. Where had this incredibly adorable, quirky boy been all her life? And why did she have to meet him now? When she was so close to the end?

She couldn’t help but wonder what her life might have been like if she’d met Nathan Hawthorne sooner. Like maybe in sixth grade so she would’ve had someone to sit with at lunch every day when students were still calling her Sleeping Baldy. Or maybe in ninth grade when she’d finally gotten boobs and felt like a girl, even though no boys seemed to notice. Or tenth grade when she’d wanted to go to the school dance but no one had asked her. Why now? When everything was over.

Camille knew it was stupid to feel loss for someone she’d just met. Sure, Nate was interested in her now, but it was just for the moment. Once he found out she had cancer it would all be over.

But as he smiled at her, a tiny seed of doubt bubbled in her chest. She felt a real connection when it was just the two of them together. Nate was easy to talk to, and his damn smile made something inside her sizzle to the point that it was hard to think. Each time he grinned or laughed it was like live wire struck her heart. The feeling was unexpected and strange, but in a refreshing way she enjoyed it.

She also liked how odd Nate was. He dressed like a skater, played the violin like Mozart, and smiled like a child who didn’t know better. It was safe to say Camille hadn’t ever met anyone like Nate before. He had a quality about him—like he truly didn’t care what anyone thought about him. He was who he was, unapologetically. It made Camille feel like she was the normal one for a change. And that was something she’d given up on.

It was stupid, but now more than ever, Camille wanted to keep her cancer a secret. It was nice to talk to Nate about normal teenage things. At least, that’s what she thought they were doing. She wouldn’t really know. Her usual conversations were about how she was feeling, test results and treatment plans. She couldn’t believe she’d almost screwed it up by failing to realize most teenagers didn’t know what a PNS was. But Camille had her own Physician Nutrition Specialist since she was diagnosed—which was the reason she’d developed a love for all things non-health food related.

“So,” Nate said, eyeing her plate of half eaten beignets. “You gonna eat those?”

“Knock yourself out,” she said sliding her plate toward him. They came three to an order and she could never eat more than one. Plus, she didn’t want to push it. She’d felt like crap after the donut at Sweet Thang’s yesterday and didn’t want to risk the wrath of a blood sugar roller coaster.

Nate polished off the beignets in record time, stretching his long limbs when he was done. “Not bad for a second date,” he said weaving his fingers behind his head.

“It’s not a date.”

“If you say so, Cami.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Cami?”

“I’m trying it out.”

She hid her smile as she sipped her coffee. Very few people called her Cami. Mostly just her parents and Ronnie. It was a privilege she allowed only those who had a place in her heart. She should’ve stopped Nate right there—should’ve corrected him and told him to call her Camille. But the sudden feverish feeling in her pounding heart told her it was already too late.

“So, it’s my turn for twenty questions,” Nate announced. His brown eyes sparkled like liquid amber as he tapped his chin thinking. “Let’s go with the same questions Ronnie asked. Parents? Siblings? Crazy exes? Arrested? Knocked up? Gay, straight, other? Weird quirks and talents? And, what’s your biggest fear?”

Camille let out sigh. “Remind me to kill Ronnie tomorrow.”

“Come on, it’s fun. We’re getting to know each other. That’s what friends do.”

She rolled her eyes. “I thought we were more than friends,” she teased.

Nate winked. “Oh, we will be. But first I must learn the wiles of your feminine ways so I may know best how to woo you.”

“Oh my God. If I play along will you promise to stop talking like that?”

He smirked. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

“Fine.” Camille exhaled loudly. “My parents are Raymond and Josephine LaRue. Music teacher and lawyer-slash-health food fanatic. No siblings, unless you count my dog, Poo. No crazy exes. No exes, period. So, definitely never been knocked up. Straight. I like colorful tights and wigs. That’s quirky, I guess. And . . .” she paused, struggling to find the right words to answer his last question.

Nate’s eyes sparkled, like she was about to spill the secrets of the universe. She wanted to tell him the truth. He had a strange way of pulling it out of her. But Camille wasn’t sure if she even knew her biggest fear. She had a lot of them. Running out of time. Dying with regret. Losing control. Letting the cancer win. But she was afraid to say any of those things out loud. She took a deep breath. “My biggest fear, is fear itself.”

Nate leaned closer. “I have so many questions. But first . . . do you mean to tell me your dog’s name is Poo LaRue?”

She laughed, stunned that was the answer Nate chose to focus on. “Yeah.”

“That’s brilliant!”

“I think so. Especially when accomplished adults like my parents scold him for biting people.”

“Poo LaRue is vicious? Even better. Please tell me he’s a Doberman or Rottweiler.”

“No, he’s a Yorkie who hates everyone but me.”

Nate grinned. “I must meet him!”

“I just told you he hates everyone.”

“Pfft. No one can hate me.”

She shook her head at Nate’s optimism. But she was starting to think he might actually be right. His charm was hard to resist.

“So what else?” Nate asked resting his chin in his large hand.

“What else do you want to know?”

“Only your deepest darkest secrets.”

Camille laughed, but she couldn’t stop the nervous butterflies from rioting in her stomach. She knew Nate was joking, but it was nice to have someone want to know her. She shrugged. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Nate’s brown eyes sparkled with mischief. He cleared his throat and spoke in a news reporter voice. “Miss LaRue, inquiring minds want to know what are your plans for life after graduation?” Nate asked, pointing the coffee cup at her like a microphone.

Camille swallowed hard. Killing myself . . . But she couldn’t bring herself to say that either. It was too real, and she was having fun in this fantasy world where she got to be normal and flirt with a cute boy. So, instead she said, “Does anyone really know what they want to do with their life?”

“I do,” Nate replied dropping the reporter voice.

“And what’s that?”

“I’m doing it.”

“What? Eating sugary desserts until you get diabetes?”

He laughed. “No. Well, not the diabetes part. I mean living. That’s all I really want. To not let any moment pass me by. To take nothing for granted. To grab life by the balls and make the most of it.”

Camille was silent as Nate’s words resonated. Those were all the things she wanted too. All the things her cancer made her want, but denied her.

“You okay?” Nate asked, his warm hand suddenly taking hers. “You look pale, or I should say paler, which I didn’t think was possible because I can practically see your veins through your skin.”

A shiver ripped through her, but it wasn’t from the chill in the spring air. “I’m fine. Just cold,” Cami replied, hoping the lie would cover the depression that suddenly gripped her.

Nate shrugged out of his NOAH blazer and stood to drape it over Camille’s shoulders. It was still warm and smelled like him—soap and sunshine and possibilities. She snuggled into it.

“Better?” he asked, smiling down at her, his caramel eyes full of hope.

Suddenly Camille didn’t feel like playing this game anymore. Even flirting was useless. “Yeah. Thanks. But I should really get home.”

“I’ll walk you.”

Nate refilled their coffees for the walk and chatted animatedly the whole way. He was easy to be around, even when she was feeling drained and depressed. Nate’s warmth and excitement was like a giant bubble surrounding him. It was impossible to be near him without some of it seeping in—even if she didn’t want it to.

“This is me,” Camille said when they arrived outside her house.

“I know,” Nate replied, grinning. “I was here yesterday, remember?”

“Right.”

“Do I get to come in today?”

Camille gestured to the razor sharp clusters of spikes adorning the pillars and gates around her home. “I don’t think we’d have so many Romeo spikes if I was allowed to invite boys like you inside.”

Nate cocked his head, taking the spikes in with an appreciative eye. “Those are positively medieval, but they wouldn’t keep me out.”

“You might be surprised how effective they are.”

“Oh yeah?” A devilish smile slipped into place. “Are you inviting me to try?”

“No. I’m just saying they’ve been protecting the virtue of daughters from heartbreakers like you for centuries.”

Nate played hurt. “You think I’m a heartbreaker?”

She ignored him and unlocked the gate to her courtyard.

“You’re really not going to invite me in?”

“No,” she replied, even though a tiny part of her wasn’t ready to quit their flirty banter.

Nate brazenly looked her up and down. “Are you a vampire or something?” he asked, his voice low and whispery.

The question caught her off guard and she sputtered a laugh. “Are you serious?”

“You’re quiet and pale and you won’t invite me into your home . . .”

“And that makes me a vampire?”

Nate shrugged. “I’ve seen a lot of teen movies. And this is New Orleans.”

“You’re crazy. Besides, everyone knows it’s the humans that have to invite the vampires in.”

“Spoken like someone who knows an awful lot about vampires.”

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe I am a vampire.”

“Or maybe you should think about getting some sun,” Nate said catching her hand and stroking a finger down the blue vein on the back of her pale palm.

His touch sparked heat in her core. “I’ll take it under consideration,” she replied, quoting him. Camille started to shrug out of his blazer.

Nate put his hand on her shoulder to stop her. “Keep it.”

“It’s your school blazer.”

“I’ll get it from you tomorrow.”

“We don’t even have any classes together,” she argued.

“I’ll wait for you at your locker.”

Camille was out of excuses, and the way Nate was looking at her, all dimples and sunshine made her forget why she was arguing. He was still holding her hand, and with his other, he slowly reached up, tucking a delicate strand of silver hair behind her ear. The warmth of his touch sparked electricity under her skin. His voice was a low whisper, his breath stirring her hair. “You’re a mystery, Miss LaRue.”

She huffed a nervous laugh. “I’m actually pretty boring.”

Nate shook his head. “That’s what you want people to think, isn’t it?”

Camille swallowed hard.

“Tell me something real, Cami.”

She could barely hear herself think over the thundering of her heartbeat. She’d never believed in things like soul mates or love at first sight, but Nate was rearranging everything. He made her want things—things she couldn’t have.

She wanted to reply. To tell him he was the mystery. And he was screwing everything up. She had a plan, and he wasn’t part of it. But she couldn’t find her voice. Not when she was standing a breath away from him. Nate leaned impossibly closer and her mind went blank.

“You know what I think?” he whispered.

Camille stared at the cupid’s bow of his lips and shook her head.

“I think you’re in love with me, Camille LaRue. You just don’t know it yet.” His face curved into his giant smile. “Don’t worry. Some things are worth waiting for.” Then, he kissed the back of her hand and jogged away, leaving Camille standing at her door, completely stunned.

Nate

Nate made himself wait before looking back. Tyler used to say if you could count to ten and a girl was still looking after you, then you knew you had her. But time felt like it was standing still as Nate’s long legs ate up the ground, carrying him further down the street from Camille’s Romeo spiked estate.

10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . .

Wait ten seconds, Nate. If she’s not still looking, you have to leave her alone.

7 . . . 6 . . . 5 . . .

People do not fall into the ‘take what you want’ philosophy of your new life.

4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . .

But if she’s still looking when you get to . . .

1 . . .

Nate turned his head, briefly, and a giant smile slide into place. He was sure the joy in his heart could power the world at that very moment, because Cami was standing right where he’d left her, staring directly at him.

Game on . . .