“You’ll see.”
The secretive half smile had me on edge. It wasn’t until we hit I70 and I saw the sign did I know where we were going. I twisted toward him and in my excitement, I almost choked myself with the seatbelt.
Cam laughed.
“We’re going to D.C.? Aren’t we?” I exclaimed, practically bouncing in my seat.
He slid me a sly side look. “Maybe.”
“And we’re going to the Smithsonian, right?”
“Quite possibly.”
I flipped forward, clasping my hands together. “Why?” I blurted out. “I mean, I know history bores you, so why?”
“Why?” He laughed again as he messed with his baseball cap. “I told you that I’d go to the Smithsonian with you and I didn’t get to do it with you on your birthday, so I thought why not today?”
Why not today? That was one of the things I loved most about Cam. His ability to do things on the spur of the moment, no thought or plan behind them. He literally lived by the moment and nothing held him back, not even the trouble he’d gotten into, because he had moved past that.
Mainly because I knew he’d accepted what he’d done and the consequences of his actions. It may have taken him a few weeks after it happened, but he’d come to terms with it.
I admired that in him.
We spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening going from exhibit to exhibit. Cam seemed more interested in touching me and stealing kisses than what we were looking at and I was okay with that. I thought of the couples I’d watched last time and realized I had become one of them. It was so normal, so perfect. There was nothing different between us and them and I reveled in that.
It was late when we got home and since there were no classes on Thursday, we had the whole night. Buzzing from out impromptu trip, I dropped some of the stinky tortoise bites onto a little bowl and slipped it into Michelangelo’s home.
As I closed the lid on the terrarium, Cam came up behind me, placing his hands on my hips. He turned me around, and I stretched up, placing a kiss on his lips.
“Thank you for today,” I said, looping my arms around his neck. “I had a lot of fun.”
“I told you that my idea was great.”
“They usually are.”
“Holy shit.” His eyes widened in exaggerated surprise. “Did you just admit that?”
I grinned. “Maybe I did.”
“Uh-huh, you’ve always known my ideas hit a ten.”
“On a scale of 1 to 100, yes.”
“Ha. Ha.” His slid his hands up until they rested on my ribcage. “Guess what. Got another idea.”
“Does it involve eggs?”
A deep laugh burst from Cam and then he tugged my hips against his. “It doesn’t involve eggs.”
I had a good idea of what it involved. My stomach dipped. “It doesn’t?”
He shook his head. “But it does involve something equally tasty.”
My cheeks heated as I turned my head to the side.
His lips followed the movement, tracing my cheekbone. “And it involves you, me, a bed, and very little, if any, clothing.”
Tingles shot down my spine. “Does it now?”
“Yes.” Cam slid his hand down, under the band of my jeans so that his fingers rested over the swell of my rear. He brushed his lips over my brow. “What do you think?”
I wasn’t thinking. Tipping my head back, Cam obliged my silent invitation. His lips were mine and then his hands were under my shirt. He broke away long enough to tug my shirt off and then his. Lips melded together, we started walking, our hips bumping into the couch and he lost his balance. He fell backward, half on the couch and half off. Giggles broke free between our kisses and our laughter died off as our hands got more involved. With a skill beyond me, Cam managed to get my jeans off while I sprawled on top of him and then he displayed a whole different kind of talent.
His hands traveled northward, cresting over my breasts, finding the nipples covered by satin. I arched against his hands, biting back a moan as Cam made that sexy sound as his hips pushed up against mine. A rush of heat flooded my core as one hand left my breast and slipped down the curve of my stomach. His hand slid under my panties. He palmed me, rubbing his thumb in just the right place that I cried out. The desire—the need to lose myself in nothing but sensation, even for just a few moments, took over. My skin was on fire as I put my weight on my knees and reached down, unzipping his fly.
“Avery,” Cam groaned, thrusting into my palm.
Upon hearing my name on his lips, tension built deep inside me. Our bodies rocked together, but still apart. Then the tension was spiraling, breaking apart and shattering. I threw my head back, biting down on my lip. Bliss washed over me.
Cam shifted under me and the next thing I know, he was standing and I was wrapped around him like a little monkey. My body was still trembling when I hit the bed. In a heated daze, I watched him strip. Completely.
My God, he was beautiful.
He hooked his fingers under my panties and I lifted my hips so he could pull them down. It wasn’t the first time that he’d stripped me bare, but it was the first time that we both were so naked. There were different stages of nakedness I’ve learned over the past four months. This was the final stage. My stomach fluttered.
Cam hovered over me, his lips trailing a path across my body. My fingers were in his soft hair as he came back up, claiming my mouth. He shifted above me and I felt him on my thigh.
My heart stuttered and then sped up.
A tremor coursed over his body or maybe it was mine causing his to do that, because I think I was shaking. I didn’t know if it was from excitement or something else. My hands found his chest and they flattened there.
“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice strained as he held himself back. “Yes,” I said, and I told myself that I did. And I did want this. I wanted to cross that final line with Cam.
His eyes met mine for a moment and then he bent his head, kissing me as he lowered his body upon mine. I felt him there, the tip of him slipping through my wetness, and I don’t know what happened. Maybe it was the weight of him on top of me or the feel of him between my thighs. For a frightening second, I wasn’t in my bedroom or under Cam. I was back on the couch, my cheek pressed roughly into the coarse fabric. Cold air rushed over my exposed lower body, followed by a rough, demanding hand. I tried to push the memory out of my head and focus on what was really happening, but once it crept in, I couldn’t get it out of my head.
Every muscle in my body locked up and the knot of unease from earlier in the day returned with a vengeance. It was like being hit with an arctic blast. I went cold on the outside and inside. Panic dug in with razor sharp claws.
I twisted my head to the side, breaking the kiss as I pushed against his chest. “No. Stop. Please stop.”
Cam froze above me, his chest rising and falling deeply. “Avery? What the—?”
“Get off.” My skin was crawling as pressure clamped down on my chest. “Get off. Please. Get off me.”
He rolled off me in an instant, and I scrambled across the bed, grabbing the comforter and tugging it up over me. I shot to my feet, backing up until I hit the dresser. Bottles of lotion rattled. The soft thud of them hitting the floor snapped me out of it. My heart was racing so fast I thought I’d be sick.
“Oh God,” I whispered hoarsely. There was a good chance I was going to hurl the baked pretzel we’d shared earlier.
Light from the hallway cast strange shadows over half of Cam’s pale face. His eyes were as big as the moon. He stared at me, brows pinched with concern. “Did I hurt you? I didn’t—”
“No. No!” I squeezed my eyes shut. “You didn’t hurt me. You didn’t even… I don’t know. I’m sorry…” I trailed off, having no idea what to say.
Cam took several deep breaths, planting his hands on the bed. “Talk to me, Avery. What just happened?”
“Nothing.” My voice cracked. “Nothing happened. I ju
st thought—”
“You thought what?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. It’s not a big deal—”
“Not a big deal?” His brows flew up. “Avery, you just scared the shit out of me. You started panicking like I was hurting you or—or like I was forcing you to do this.”
Horrified, I felt my stomach drop. “You weren’t forcing me, Cam. I liked what you were doing.”
Several seconds passed and then he said, “You know I would never hurt you, right?”
“Yes.” Tears clogged my throat.
“And I would never force you to do anything you didn’t want to do.” He spoke slowly, each word precise. “You understand that, right? If you’re not ready, I’m okay with that, but you have to talk to me. You have to let me know before it gets to that point.”
Clenching the blanket, I nodded.
There was another gap of silence and his stare pierced mine. A certain level of comprehension flashed across his features, and I bit down on my lip. I wanted to know what he was thinking and then again, I didn’t.
“What are you not telling me?” he asked, like he’d done the night out in the parking lot.
I couldn’t say anything.
His jaw clenched. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing!” The word burst from me like a cannon. “There’s nothing to talk about, dammit. Just fucking drop it.”
“You’re lying.”
There. He said it. He called me on it.
Cam took a deep, long breath. “You’re lying to me. Something happened, because that?” He gestured at where we’d been twined together moments before. “That wasn’t about not being ready. That was about something else, because you know—you know—I would wait for you, Avery. I swear, but you have to tell me what’s going on in your head.”
My chest ached at his words, but I couldn’t say anything.
“I’m begging you, Avery. You’ve got to be up front and honest with me. You said that you trusted me. You’ve got to prove it, because I know there is more to this. I’m not stupid and I’m not blind. I remember how you acted when we first met and I sure as hell remember what you said that night you were drunk.”
Oh God. The floor shifted under my feet.
He was on a roll. “And that text message you got? Are you telling me that has nothing to do with this? If you trust me, you will finally tell me what the hell is going on.”
“I do trust you.” The tears reached my eyes, blurring him.
Cam watched me for a second and then stood, grabbing his jeans off the floor. He tugged them on, zipping them up but not buttoning them. He faced me, expression tense. “I don’t know what else to do with you, Avery. I’ve told you shit that I’m not proud of. Stuff that hardly anyone in this world knows and yet you keep shit from me. You keep everything from me. You don’t trust me.”
“No—I do.” I started forward but stopped when I saw the look on his face. “I trust you with my life.”
“But not with the truth? That’s such bullshit, Avery. You don’t trust me.” He stalked past me, heading out to the living room.
I followed him, my hands shaking. “Cam—”
“Stop it.” He grabbed his sweater off the floor and faced me. “I don’t know what else to do and I know I don’t know everything in the world, but I do know that relationships don’t work this way.”
Fear punched me in the chest. “What are you saying?”
“What do you think I’m saying, Avery? There are some obvious issues with you and no, don’t fucking look at me like I kicked your puppy. Do you think I’d break up with you because of whatever the hell went on with you? Just like you thought I’d think differently of you when I saw the scar on your wrist? I know you think that and that’s bullshit.” Sorrow and raw anger flooded his voice. “How can there be any future for us if you can’t be honest with me? If you can’t really trust that how I feel about you is strong enough, then we have nothing. This is the shit that ends relationships. Not the past, Avery, but the present.”
My breath caught. “Cam, please—”
“No more, Avery. I told you before. All I asked from you was to trust me and not shut me out.” He turned to the door. “And you don’t trust me and you shut me out again.”
And then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him. I made it to the couch before my legs gave out. Sitting down, I pressed my knees to my chest. There was a cracking in my chest, my heart, and the pain was so very real.
My mouth opened, but I didn’t make a sound.
I never made a sound.
Chapter 30
I stayed in bed and slept most of Thursday and Friday. A thick and suffocating feeling laid over me like a too-heavy blanket. I’d screwed up. Royally. That was the self-pitying mantra that I repeated over and over. It was the truth and it was all I could think about.
Not how I planned on kicking off my spring recess.
Burying my head into the pillow, I stayed away from my phone, because if I checked it and Cam hadn’t called then I’d feel worse. Pointless thing was I knew he wouldn’t call.
And there was no doubt in my mind that I was in love with him. There was a difference between loving someone and being in love and I had let it slip through my fingers.
Cam had enough.
He’d trusted me, and in a way, I’d thrown that trust back in his face. If he’d known everything, things could’ve gone down differently between us Wednesday night. But I had remained silent, like I had all these years.
At some point during Saturday, the deep cutting sorrow gave way to something else. I threw off the blanket and stood in the middle of the room, breathing in raggedly. Spinning around, I picked up a bottle of lotion and threw it across the room. The bottle hit the closet door and then thudded off the floor.
Not satisfied, I grabbed another bottle and threw it harder. That one hit the wall, cracking the plaster. There went my security deposit.
I didn’t care.
Anger rose around me like a hot steam. I whirled, pulling the comforter and sheets off the bed.
Then I attacked my closet.
I hated the boring sweaters, the turtlenecks, the cardigans, and the ill-fitting shirts. I hated everything, but most of all, I hated myself for doing this. Crying out, I yanked them down. Hangers rocked and fell to the floor. Tears blurred my eyes as I turned, seeking something else to destroy, but there really wasn’t anything. No pictures to throw. No paintings to rip from the walls. There was nothing. I was so pissed—pissed at myself.
Moving to the hallway, I leaned against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut. Breathing heavily, I kicked my head back and bit back a scream.
The silence was killing me.
And that’s all there ever was. Silence. It was all I knew. Keep quiet. Pretend nothing had happened, that nothing was wrong. And look how well that was turning out.
I slid down the wall and opened my eyes. They were as dry as I felt on the inside, brittle.
Who did I have to blame for that? Blaine? His parents? Mine? Did it matter? Never once did I stand up to my parents and tell them what I thought. I just shut up and took it—took it until I could run away.
Problem was, running away wasn’t working anymore. It never worked in the first place and how long did it take me to figure that out? Five years, almost six? And how many miles? Thousands?
And then, like fucking clockwork, I heard my phone ring from the living room.
Shoving to my feet, I stalked out there, the back of my skull tingling as I saw UNKNOWN CALLER flash across the screen. I grabbed the phone and pressed the answer button.
“What?” I said, my voice shaking.
Nothing. More fucking silence.
“What the fuck do you want from me?” I demanded. “What? You have nothing to say? You’ve only been calling and texting for nine months? I’d think you’d have a shit ton to say.”
There was another pregnant pause and then, “I can’t believe you answered.”
&n
bsp; My eyes widened. Holy shit, the voice belonged to a girl. The person who was calling me and most likely emailing me was a girl.
A girl.
Who knows what I expected, but I sure as hell didn’t expect a girl.
I could only say one word. “Why?”
“Why?” The girl coughed out a dry laugh. “You have no idea who you’re talking to, do you? You didn’t even read a single email I sent you? Not one?”
She was questioning me? “Well, when I saw the content in a couple of them, I decided to not torture myself.”
“I’ve been emailing you since June, trying to talk to you. There was nothing wrong with the first couple of emails I sent you. If you just read one of them, you would’ve seen that. Then again, why should I even believe that you didn’t read them since you have such an infamous background of telling the truth.”
Plopping down, I frowned. “Who are you?”
“God, this is fucking unbelievable. My name is Molly Simmons.”
My eyes widened. “Molly?”
“You sound like you recognize my name. I guess you did read the emails.”
“No—my cousin told me about you.” I was on my feet again, pacing. “I didn’t read your emails. I’m not lying about that.”
“Well, that would be the first time you told the truth if that’s the case,” she said, and I heard a door slam.
I didn’t know what to say. Shell-shocked—I was absolutely dumbfounded. “I don’t know… God, I’m so sorry for what you—”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” she cut in, her voice razor sharp. “I’m sorry means absolutely fucking nothing to me.”
My mouth hung open as I shook my head, which was stupid, because it wasn’t like she could see any of that.
“You’re a fucking lying whore. Because of you—”
“Hey! Seriously. You’re calling me a whore? You have to see how messed up that is.” My hand tightened around the phone. “Honestly, every single disgusting message you have sent me is messed up. And I don’t even understand why you’d do this.”
“Why?” Her voice turned shrill. “Are you fucking serious?”