“What movie is that?” Nate asked.
“Casablanca.”
“Hmm, never seen it.”
“Seriously? That’s a crime.”
“That good, huh?”
“It’s pretty much my favorite movie.”
Nate smiled, making a mental note to watch Casablanca immediately. He turned back to the wall. The next word was, Hike, and a photo of Camille’s boots on a dusty trail accompanied it. Then there was, Sprinklers, with a photo of Cami’s bare toes hidden in blades of glistening grass.
Nate stepped back, scanning the list. He wondered at what point Camille had decided to take photos of her feet rather than her face? His eyes fell back to the family picnic photo and he saw what her dad had been talking about. Camille didn’t smile like that anymore. Or at least Nate hadn’t seen it yet. And suddenly, he decided it would be his goal in life to do so.
He sat back on the bed next to Camille, smirking at the list. Bicycle, Bird Watch, Bowling, Bubbles, Build Fort, Dancing in the Rain, Finger Paint, Fireworks, Fishing, Fly Kites, Handprint Art, Jump Rope, Magic Show, Mini Golf, Pillow Fight . . .
“Your Before I Die wall is in alphabetical order?”
“So?”
“Living on the edge, huh?”
Camille only picked at the navy blue paint on her fingernails.
“What happens when you want to add a new thing to the list?”
“I don’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, these are all the things I want to do. I don’t need to add anymore.”
“What? That’s crazy talk. I can think of like a million more things to add.”
“I don’t need to do a million things before I die, just the ones that are important to me.”
“Well, then I can think of one really important thing that’s missing.”
“What?”
Before Camille could stop him, Nate was at the wall scribbling his name between Mini Golf and Pillow Fight.”
“Stop it!” Camille leapt to her feet and grabbed the chalk from him.
“There,” Nate said. “That’s what you were missing.”
“Is everything a joke to you?”
“No.” He could tell from her pinched expression and watery eyes he’d hit a nerve. “Cami, what’s wrong?”
“It’s not funny, Nate. You can’t just show up and insert yourself into someone else’s life. It’s not okay.”
“I wasn’t trying to insert myself. I just like hanging out with you.”
“You don’t even know me!”
“But I want to.”
Cami
Camille sat down on her bed. She knew this was the moment she’d been waiting for. Nate said he wanted to know her. It was the perfect opportunity to tell him about the cancer, because it was pretty much her identity. Camille LaRue—cancer girl.
Poo jumped up on the bed and crawled into her lap. Camille knited her fingers through his silky tan and black fur. Nate sat beside her and before she could get enough courage to get the words out, he took her hand. And surprisingly, Poo didn’t bite him.
“What do you think about starting today over?” he asked.
She laughed. “Too bad it’s not possible.”
“Sure it is. Give me your phone.”
Camille gave Nate a weary look.
“Come on, play along.”
“Fine,” she muttered standing up to fetch her phone from her desk.
When she came back, Poo was sprawled across Nate’s lap. The sight stopped Cami in her tracks. Poo hated everyone. Especially strangers. A chill ran through her as she remembered a conversation she’d had with Ronnie ages ago.
“I’m tellin ya, Sugar. That boy’s gonna roll in like a hurricane and turn your world upside down.”
“So does my mystery man have a name or am I just supposed to throw myself at all tall, dark and handsome strangers?”
“Don’t give me that sass, baby cakes. All I know is your boy is out there and he’s gonna win your heart. Hell, even that fussy little dog of yours is gonna like him.”
“Now I know you’re lying. Poo hates everyone.”
Camille had laughed it off. But now, as she watched Poo roll over in Nate’s lap, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—it was another sign that Ronnie was right.
She handed Nate her phone, still in a bit of a trance from Poo’s behavior. Nate didn’t seem to notice as he tapped out both sides of a text conversation on their phones.
Nate: Good morning, Camille.
May I escort you to Café du Monde today?
Cami: Hello, Nathan. Why yes. That sounds lovely.
Nate: Splendid. I’ll ring your doorbell at 11:11.
Nate handed her phone back, grinning from ear-to-ear. “See how easy that was?”
Camille sighed, wishing it really could be that simple. She was about to protest, but Nate was already on his feet, and out the door. She watched his head disappear down the stairs, with Poo hot on his heels. A moment later she heard the front door shut. She peered over the railing to see Poo scratching at the door woefully. Traitor.
Camille glanced at her phone. It was 11:10. Any second the doorbell would ring, and she’d be greeted with Nate’s brilliant smile. She felt her resolve begin to crumble. She didn’t want to be the one to wipe that smile from his face. But she knew telling him about her cancer surely would. Honestly, she was surprised he hadn’t figured it out by now. He’d been in her room, which displayed a Before I Die wall, and a shrine of wigs. As far as she knew, these weren’t normal fixtures in a teenager’s bedroom. And if Nate had really seen her in her bra, he must have noticed her scars. She’d had dozens of surgeries over the course of her treatment. Tiny scars crisscrossed her body like a roadmap of suffering.
Maybe there was something fundamentally wrong with Nate. Poo liked him, which wasn’t normal. And from his ceaseless smile, it was obvious he saw the world through some intense rose-colored glasses. Perhaps losing his brother had distorted his reality—because who in their right mind could possible want Cami?
Ding-Dong. The doorbell pulled Camille from her dark musings. She jammed her camera in her purse and grabbed a jacket before rushing downstairs. Her father poked his head out of his office, still on a phone call.
“It’s just Nate. I’ll see ya later, Dad.”
Her father looked puzzled, but nodded and ducked back into his office. Camille lured her traitorous dog into the kitchen with a treat and scurried back to the front door before Poo could follow. She opened the door and found herself stunned by Nate’s smile. It was brighter than the sun.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he said offering her his elbow. “Shall we?”
Camille was finding it was nearly impossible to say no to Nate. And on a day as sunny and warm as this, she decided to stop trying.
12
Nate
“Oh my God! I seriously don’t know how I’ve survived eighteen years without beignets in my life. Does the rest of the world know about these?” Nate asked stuffing the powdered pastry into his mouth.
“I’m pretty sure they do.”
Nate continued to cram large sugary bites into his mouth.
“Which beignets do you like better? Café du Monde or Café Beignet?” Camille asked.
“That’s like asking me which parent I like better.”
She laughed. “Fair enough.”
“Just to be sure, though. I think you need to take me to every place that serves beignets in New Orleans.”
“That might take a while.”
Nate grinned, knowing full well his face was covered in powdered sugar. “Good.”
Camille had taken Nate to the famous Café du Monde as promised. But instead of sitting beneath the iconic green and white stripped awning with the tourists, she led Nate up to what she called, the best seat in the house—the Moon Walk.
The beautiful riverside promenade curved along the Mississippi River, dotted with benches to enjoy the view while th
e gentle breeze offered relief from the constant humidity.
“So this is the place, huh?” Nate asked from his spot beside her on the sun-bleached bench.
Camille seemed lost in thought. “Huh?”
“Where you want to go swimming?” Nate prodded.
“Oh. Yeah.”
“Well,” Nate licked the grease and sugar from his fingers. “There’s no time like the present.”
He was on his feet, pulling his shirt over his head when he felt Cami’s hands on his chest. “Whoa. No way,” she yelped, pushing him back toward the bench.
“I thought you said you wanted to go swimming.”
“I do, but not now.”
“Why not?”
Camille seemed to notice her hand was still on his chest. It hadn’t slipped Nate’s mind for a moment. Feeling her hand above his heart only made it beat faster. He wondered if she noticed.
“I have a plan,” Camille huffed. “And it doesn’t involve swimming today.”
“Do you have a plan for everything?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well that doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“Not all of us can just do whatever we want whenever we want to, Nate.”
“Sure we can,” he said kicking off his shoes and scooping Camille into his arms.
She squealed but looped her arms tightly around his neck as he headed for the river. There was a wide set of stairs leading straight into the water, as if daring them to walk right in—challenge accepted.
Nate marched toward the stairs with Camille in his arm.
She started to squirm. “Nate! Nate! No! We can’t do this.”
Nate only grinned at her, his face inches from hers. “Cami, it’s time to live a little.”
Cami
Camille was shaking as Nate descended the staircase to the river. She could see trash collecting in the weeds below the levee wall. He wasn’t going to do it. He was just trying to scare her. He’d probably get right to the edge and stop.
She’d seen enough teen romance movies to know this was all part of the flirting process. Scare the girl you like so she holds you a little tighter. Camille cursed herself, realizing she was playing right into Nate’s hands. Her grip on his neck was practically lethal.
3 steps to the water. 2 steps. 1 . . . He was going to stop. He had to stop!
That’s what a normal guy would do. But Nate was definitely not normal. When he stepped onto the last submerged step Camille screamed.
“Nate! Stop.”
“I’ve got you, Cami.”
He took one more step and they were in the river! The step dropped them down to Nate’s waist and Camille shrieked, practically climbing up him like he was a beanstalk. Her legs were wrapped around his waist now and her arms clamped so tightly around his neck that his face was buried in her chest.
“Cami, I’m not complaining about the view, but I sorta need to breathe here.”
“Nate, this isn’t funny!”
“It sorta is,” he said smirking up at her.
“My phone is soaked,” she yelled.
“Mine too.”
“And my boots! These are my favorite boots!”
“Cami, those are just things. Things can be replaced. But this,” he said letting go of her with one arm, so he could gesture to the river. “This is living!”
She gripped him tighter. “Do not let go!”
“I’ve got ya.”
“You’re insane!”
“I know. It’s fun, right?”
“Fun?”
But before Camille could reply, Nate took another step into the river, submerging them completely. She was shivering from fear and exhilaration.
Nate’s eyes were shining. “Ready?”
“For what?”
“We’re gonna swim. Unless . . . you weren’t lying about the knowing how to swim thing, were you?”
“No.”
“Good. Then let’s go.”
“Where?”
“To the next set of stairs.”
“But—”
Nate had already let go of the railing and they were moving. Standing still against the current was impossible. They bobbed as the water got deeper until they were floating at a steady pace.
“Cami, we gotta swim. We’ll both sink if you keep holding onto me like this.”
Panic ripped through her and she shook her head rapidly. “I can’t. I can’t.”
“Yes you can. Give me your hand. I won’t let go.”
Camille looked into Nate’s bright eyes. The sun sparked off the gold flecks, making them glow. “I won’t let go,” he repeated.
It was as if those four little words had awoken some unknown source of bravery within her heart. She nodded and untangled herself from Nate, letting the churning Mississippi cradle her as they drifted down the river.
“Swim,” Nate yelled, grinning like a fool.
She did.
“Kick your feet.”
She did that too.
“That’s it! Wahoo!” he screamed. “This is livin, Cami! No plan, just livin!”
She couldn’t help but laugh. Her heart was soaring. She was doing it, swimming in the Mississippi River. This wasn’t at all how she’d planned it. She’d been saving this task for last. Because Nate was right, the river was terribly polluted and Camille wasn’t all that sure her weak immune system could handle it. She’d planned on going for a swim closer to graduation in case she got sick from the polluted water. But as she swam, her hand tight in Nate’s, Cami suddenly didn’t care that he’d blown her plan to smithereens. This was much better than the way she’d planned it.
The sun sparked off the water like glitter on glass. Seagulls sang overhead, and every time Cami looked over, Nate grinned back at her. He howled like a crazed Teen Wolf fan.
“Come on, let me hear you!” Nate howled again, and this time Cami joined him.
“See I knew you could go off script. You can thank me later,” he teased, blowing her a kiss.
Camille splashed him. “Let’s keep going.”
“I’ve created a monster!”
“There’s another set of stairs under the bridge. We’ll climb out there.”
“You sure?” he asked.
She nodded. “Just don’t let go.”
“Never.”
13
Cami
Camille and Nate dripped all the way back to the stairs where he’d first carried her kicking and screaming into the river. He still hadn’t let go of her hand, and secretly, she hoped he wouldn’t. She couldn’t stop giggling. Camille couldn’t believe she’d done something so wild. A few tourists even gave them hi-fives as they walked by. She couldn’t remember that last time she’d felt so bright and alive.
“I’m pretty sure we’re on YouTube right now,” Nate said, grinning spectacularly.
Camille bumped him with her shoulder. “You’re a bad influence.”
“Just you wait.”
When they got back to the bench, Camille let out a sigh of relief. Her camera and purse were still under it with Nate’s shirt, shoes and half eaten bag of beignets. She set her sopping boots on the ground and picked up her Polaroid camera.
“Come on,” she said, tugging Nate toward the stairs.
“Are we going again?”
“No, just come here.”
Camille led Nate back to the partially submerged stairs. They stood in murky river water and she faced him, moving closer until their bare toes were touching. Cami aimed the camera down and clicked a shot. They waited, nearly chest to chest, for the image to appear.
“I want one,” Nate said, his breath tickling her cheek.
She moved a bit closer and snapped another picture. They sat down on the stairs, stretching out in the sunshine. Both of them comfortably silent, listening to the roar of the river and the call of the sea birds.
“I miss the water,” Nate said after a while.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s different he
re. In California, the ocean is everywhere. It’s like the whole state has this constant breathing sound from the push and pull of the waves.”
Camille’s heart squeezed at the longing in his voice. “Do you miss California?”
She watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard, nodding once.
“I’ve never been. Will you tell me about it?” she asked.
Nate’s face lit up as he talked about growing up in California, and Camille found herself imagining him wandering the sun drenched beaches he’d grown up exploring with Tyler. She could practically see the two of them surfing waves, tearing up skate parks, eating snow cones on the pier, playing music with their garage band.
Everything he told her was like a vibrant spark, stoking an ember to life inside her. Being like this with Nate was dangerous. He was all golden skin and coiled muscles stretched over smooth, hard lines. She followed the path of his torso to where his wet jeans hung low on his hips. His stomach was smooth and flat. He was thin, but muscles rippled below his skin. They funneled into a V that led beyond the waist of his pants. And Camille couldn’t keep her eyes from wandering there.
A shirtless Nate was like a summer heat wave. The kind that made the humid air hazy when it rose from the street. That kind of simmering heat was hazardous. It made you see things that weren’t really there. And that’s what Nate did to Cami. He made her see all the things she wanted but couldn’t have.
Nate
Nate grabbed Camille’s camera while she was soaking up the sun next to him. She looked so beautiful lying on the bank with her eyes closed, her mouth quirked into a slight smirk as she listened to him talk. The sun made her pale skin glow with an almost angelic quality. He aimed the camera and captured the photo. The click startled her, and Nate clicked one more photo, catching Cami’s gorgeous gray-blue eyes wide with surprise.
“Hey,” she protested, sitting up and snatching the camera back. “No photos while I look like a drowned rat!”
The Boyfriend Series Box Set (Books 1-6): YA Contemporary Romance Novels Page 45