by J. B. McGee
He tilts his head to the side, like he’s studying me. “You have no idea how much I’m having a love-hate relationship with surprises tonight, Camellia Spencer.”
My entire life I’ve hated being called Camellia. Not sure why, but I’ve just despised it. Maybe because it just sounds yuppie. So Magnolia Grove. Surely it’s not because when we were growing up, in that time period where boys are mean to girls they like, he’d call me that.
Wait. Has Holden always liked me?
No, because it was later when he started calling me tigress. He was well past the age limit for that phase. And what does tigress even mean? Why would you pick a nickname for someone without them knowing why you call them that? If he was trying to annoy me, it didn’t really work because I didn’t understand the meaning behind it. Then again, I guess it annoyed me more not knowing. Maybe that was his plan. He’s always had a way of confusing the hell out of me.
But yet, hearing Holden say either of those names for me again after all these years is different. Surprises. Some sweet, and some that are fucking nightmares. “I think I have some idea about the surprises.” Case in point being that none of the nightmares seem to involve Holden Masters at this point. What the hell am I going to do?
He grins. “Where do you want me to take you? To your car? Did you even bring a car? To my car?” His eyes widen, and I’m not sure if he’s mimicking mine or what. “To the cabana?” he asks, his voice rough and needy.
My eyes definitely widen more as I suck my bottom lip in between my teeth, contemplating the many questions, but mainly the one about the cabana. Just thinking about his fingers massaging my hair. His fingers in my mouth…in me. Him tenderly feeding me. Then, that picture. That reminder of why he and I will never work. “I think I’ve had enough of the cabana for one night.”
He rests his forehead on mine. “You’re killin’ me, Cam. We gotta get out of here. Where do you wanna go?”
“I didn’t bring my car. I came with Oliver.”
“So does that mean we’re going to my car?” Is that a good idea? All I can think of is hot car sex with Holden. I can’t be alone with him in there. I can’t be alone anywhere with him for any extended period of time. Here included.
I continue to nibble my lips. Am I still engaged? I just found out my fiancé has been cheating on me, and instead of there being another woman, there’s another man. Glancing at my ring, my mouth grows dry. I look back at Holden, and he’s watching me.
Twirling it, I contemplate removing it, but I can’t. Why the hell not? Why do I feel like I’m the one cheating by leaving with another man? And where is Holden going to take me exactly?
Oliver and I moved in together six months ago. I can’t go to our place. My parents’ house is completely out of the question. There’s my brother, Wells, but that’s an hour away. While I’d love to see him kick Oliver’s ass, which he’d so try, I’m not up for the inquisition. Maybe the cabana is the only real choice.
“Cam…”
I throw my hands in the air. “I don’t know where to go. As much as I don’t want to go back to the cabana, maybe I should stay there until I figure things out.” Even though every moment there is going to be spent replaying Holden pushing me against the wall—kind of like he’s doing now—except he’s not putting his hands all over me, his fingers in me, his tongue devouring my mouth like I hold the last breath of oxygen. Dammit.
He holds his arm out for me to join mine in his. “I’ll walk you there.”
I loop mine in his, and we take a back way to avoid the crowd from the event. The music from the tents becomes muted the farther we go.
When I stop, he grips my arm with his other hand like he’s not going to let me go—or fall. “You okay?”
“I gotta take these shoes off. These heels are killin’ me.”
“Your feet are going to freeze. It’s not that cold tonight, but I’m sure the ground is cooler than we are.”
“Eh.” I shrug. “I’m kinda numb right now anyway.” Physically and emotionally. “We’re pretty close.”
“Do you remember when we were really little, back in the day before things got so fucked up, how our dads would do piggy back races?”
That was a really long time ago. A lump lodges in my throat. “Yeah, I remember.”
“You’re wearing a dress, so I guess that’s not an option.”
“I’m—”
He swoops down and picks me up, cradling me in his arms. “It’s too cold for you to go barefoot. Besides, I’m sure you paid an insane amount of money for whatever that’s called you women do to your feet.”
I kick my legs out. “A pedicure.”
“Yeah, whatever. It’d be a shame to ruin it.”
“Uh huh.” Because I’m sure he’s so concerned about my money and my feet. I breathe in his scent. “What kind of cologne do you wear?”
His eyes widen as his brows rise. He smiles and my insides flip. “You think I smell good?”
“No, I was going to say you really need to switch to something else.”
His brows furrow, and for a second, I squeal as my body is literally freefalling towards the ground, but before I completely crash into it, he catches me.
“What the hell, Holden?” I jab my elbow into his side.
“That’s how I felt when you insulted the cologne I don’t wear after I thought you were about to compliment me. That’s how hope feels when it’s crushed. That’s why you never let your hopes go up too high.”
I know all about the free fall hope takes when it’s crushed. Especially when the hope is nestled right in the middle of your heart.
Our faces are so close that our noses are touching. He says it’s not that cold, but the condensation from our breaths swirls in the air like we’re a potion being brewed from a cauldron. I swallow back the panting as my chest heaves up and down. “I was kidding.”
“So, you do think I smell good?” His head cocks to the side.
“I definitely don’t think you need to switch whatever it is you’re doing.”
“With my body scent? Or with the way I’m holding you?” His lips nearly brush mine when he speaks. “Or how I’m willing every part of my body to resist the urge to kiss you because I said I wouldn’t?”
This just confirms I can’t be with Holden for any length of time. I can’t be in his proximity or touching his body because I’m not sure how much longer I can control my willpower to resist him. My mouth grows dry. His eyes plead and beg me to give in, and damn, I want to. The music stops, and this reminds me there are so many people around. He can’t carry me around like this. We certainly can’t kiss. Not now. Not here. Not ever. “I think my feet are better. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
He nods, places me in an upright position, and holds me until I’ve steadied myself back into my heels. His eyes are searing into me, so I glance up. “What?” I ask. Holden’s thumb brushes his lower lip. Even his fingers are gorgeous. That’s just ridiculous. You’ve lost your ever-loving mind, Cammie. I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to ignore our near sexual encounter. But it just keeps creeping back into my thoughts because all I can think about is my finger being inside his mouth surrounded by his wetness and heat. My nipples harden as I shiver. This is trouble. He’s trouble. I pry my eyes away, hoping to cool myself down from the intensity of him and this conversation—this entire situation—but I can feel him still staring at me. “What?”
“You want me to kiss you.” It’s a statement, not a question.
I swallow. “It’s never mattered what I want.” With that, I turn and start walking the few steps left to the cabana. Reaching in my bra, I pull the key out.
“You put your key in your bra?” He chuckles.
“Where else would I put it?” I slide it in the hole, unlock, and open the door.
He bobs his head, kicking the door closed behind us with his heel. “Fair enough. Did I hear you correctly?”
“Hear what?”
“That what you want has never
mattered.”
I nod. “Yep.”
He takes my hand into his and pulls me closer. “That’s fucked up, Cam.” He caresses my cheek, and with every stroke, the beats of my heart become louder in my ear. “What do you want?”
Shaking my head, my chin begins to quiver. “I don’t know,” I say, my whisper barely audible even to me. It’s not like he can give it to me. Let’s say I call off the wedding. That’s going to be controversy to last me for years. Add to it me going on a date with Holden, and then possibly becoming more? I am not prepared for the backlash that will come from all these decisions. Magnolia Grove be damned, but from my father? I can’t bear to think about what it’d do to him. Come to think of it, he never even made eye contact with me after Holden won my auction.
“Yes, you do.” He leans in closer. “What is it you want?” Our lips brush together. “Forget about everything else, everyone else. It’s just us. Tell me, Cammie.”
Our eyes lock, as I nod my head.
“Tell me.” He rubs his nose against mine.
He’s so easy to talk to, to open up to. “Alive, like the way you’ve made me feel tonight.” The words feel right, but the timing couldn’t suck more. No, that’s not true. I could be in my wedding dress in this situation. Or married, with a child on the way. I guess the saying ‘it can always be worse’ is true.
“Say it, Cammie. Tell me to kiss you. I won’t do it unless you ask me.”
“I’d like to feel this adrenaline every day.” But we both know this is like a dream that will never be realized. It’s too late. If he thinks it’s anything other than a fantasy, he’s as delusional as his father was to think he wouldn’t get caught.
His lips part into a perfect smile that compliments his sparkly, straight teeth. “You’re killin’ me. Say it. Tell me to kiss you.”
“Do you know that before everything changed, your name was the one I’d write on secret notebooks? Cammie loves Holden. Sometimes, I’d write Cammie Masters.”
“Is that so?” His lips twitch, and his eyes sparkle.
“I dreamed about this back then, but everything changed…” I glance at that picture from earlier, the one of our families together. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m still engaged. And you and I both know even if I wasn’t, this is an impossible situation.” His body stiffens, his brows furrow. “You should probably go.” I step back, looking at the door. It sounds so cold, but it’s a façade. There’s nothing about me right now that’s cold. Whatever this is between us, even if it’s just attraction, is an inferno.
He narrows his eyes. “If I leave, how will you get home? We’ve been through this a few times already.” This time he smirks. “And I’m so damned tired of you kicking me out of this cabana.”
“Dammit.” He’s right. I came here with Oliver. And no matter how many times I try to think this through, I seem to spin in circles. Spending the night in the cabana buys me time from going back to the apartment, from telling my parents that everything has gone to hell and back. I shrug. “I can call an Uber, I guess.” Why didn’t I think of that before we got down here? Because Holden gives you brain fog.
He nods as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’ll leave if you want, but there’s no need for you to waste money like that.”
“Money’s—”
He puts his hand up. “Just call me tomorrow. I’ll pick you up and take you to get your car…whatever else you need.”
Looking down at my feet, I cross my arms over my chest like I did earlier tonight. There are so many differences. Before I felt vulnerable, violated, and so guilty. Now, it’s like he’s the comfort blanket, the one he teased me for taking on vacations our families shared.
Back then, before everything got screwed up, it was so easy to just be Cammie and Holden. Everything in me wants to tell him to stay. To hell with what people will think, but we don’t live in a society that disregards what is acceptable. We’re groomed on how to behave, at least I am, and what Oliver did was bad enough for the both of us. What I have already done is horrible. I can’t stoop to that level. I swallow before glancing at the door, then back at Holden. “Thank you.”
He turns, but before he walks away, he says, “Sleep tight, Cam.”
“Don’t let the bed bugs bite, Holden.” It comes out so soft I doubt he’ll hear it. And with that, he’s gone.
This doesn’t feel right. The growing pit in my stomach explodes, because I know he’s not coming back until the morning. I collapse onto the couch and bury my face in the pillow, running the night through my mind until everything becomes blurry, then fades to black.
After I left Cammie last night, I went back to my place, changed, and went for a walk on the beach. The roar of the waves, the glittering of the moon illuminating my path, and the smoothness of the sand beneath my toes is my escape—my solace. When I need clarification, time to think, the beach is where I go to.
Just like so many other parts of our lives that are similar, it’s Cammie’s calming retreat too. I knew those other dates weren’t hers because the only time she really liked being outside was at the pool or the beach. Any other time, she was swatting at bugs and huffing and puffing like the wolf in the Three Little Pigs. But when she’s on a beach, she’s carefree. Oliver knew just as much as I did that package was Cammie’s at the auction. But for as much as I wanted to win it, to win her, he wanted to lose. Well, he wanted to lose the date, but not her. Fuck. That pissed me off. Because if I had her, there’s no way in hell I’d let some other guy win her date. I don’t even know who the moron was I was bidding against, but he seemed hell-bent on winning. It just motivated me that much more.
I strolled down the shore as the waves ebbed and flowed. I couldn’t help thinking about how I got to this point. Was it all my fault? Had I been a coward? Did I refuse to go after what I wanted? Was I wrong to behave the way I did in high school? I mean, after all the shit went down, all I did was act the way everyone expected me to. It was easier that way. Then, I was thankful for a moment. Thankful that the way I seek escape from real world problems is harmless to others. My love of the beach doesn’t destroy my family or friends. It doesn’t slowly take my life into its grips, making me do shit that will hurt other people.
It didn’t matter the water was frigid, the air too cool. I’m not into those old wives’ tales that say I’ll get sick if my feet get wet or cold. I’m sure Cammie thinks I buy into them because I wouldn’t let her walk around last night without her feet killers on. The truth of the matter is I just wanted a reason to have her in my arms. The weather or trying to spare her pretty toenails, those were just excuses. Neither mattered to me other than having her body touching mine, her heart pounding into my chest, her breath blowing on my neck.
Everything went from being fun and games with a side of seriousness to so fucking complicated in a matter of a sentence. Thanks to Oliver. In a way, I wanted to hug him because he essentially ended their engagement for me. I wouldn’t have to consider myself a homewrecker when I convinced her on my date that we were destined to be together. That she had it all wrong. That it’s always supposed to have been us.
It makes me sick to think about her sharing a place with him. According to fucked up high society expectations, of which I couldn’t care less, they are doing things a little backward. While surprising that Cammie would risk being the talk of Magnolia Grove for this, it makes sense now why Oliver would want that kind of attention. I guess him having her in his bed made the charade more believable to her and everyone else.
But when she looked me in the eyes after she rammed into me, I studied her like I have at every opportunity over the course of my life. It was obvious how conflicted she was. My heart plummets because I’m not even sure their engagement is over. It was like I could see her going through the guest list, thinking about how she was going to tell her mother, about how she was going to become the laughing stock because she was the fool who fell for it all.
I don’t think she’s a fool, but I know everyo
ne else will, just like they formed opinions about me because of my circumstances. It was like they were just waiting for me to screw up again, so I went ahead and did it quickly so they could go ahead and get the talking out of their systems.
After I locked her in that cabana, made my way to my car, and then to the beach, all I could think was how Oliver had potentially just hit me with a devastating blow. Rather than me taking her on a date and convincing her he was the wrong man for her, she now had more motive than ever to stand by his side.
Cammie doesn’t like humiliation.
When we were younger, she was running around the wet pool deck trying to get away from a snake. That fucker looked like the real deal from being in the water. It had diamonds in its eyes and on its shiny scales. I’m not sure what kind of snake it was other than fake. It was the most real looking toy snake I’d ever seen in my life.
Fucking Brody threw it at her when she wasn’t looking. It was like it’d jumped out of the water and come after her. I’ve never seen her jump and run so fast simultaneously, her arms flailing. Blood-curdling screams that seemed way too big to be coming out of her little body probably woke people on a different continent halfway across the world.
It didn’t matter that it was fake. And it wouldn’t have made a difference if it was a turtle. Cammie’s terrified of reptiles. Okay, maybe turtles are the exception because they’re too slow to catch her, and who doesn’t like turtles? She also hates amphibians. Even if it had been a fake frog Brody threw, she would have reacted the same way.
I chuckle for a moment, thinking about her back then. We’d all learned this information over the years watching her when a lizard came around or if a frog was in one of the little trap doors and we’d let it free in the pool. Hell, but all we had to do was mention snake, and she’d start screaming. Her reaction was a little over the top. Okay, a lot.
Sometimes, I’d get lucky. She’d run over and jump into my arms and ask me to keep her safe. I never said it out loud, but every time I thought, always. She didn’t even have to ask. But I had no way of knowing what the future held for us, that it was impossible to keep her from being hurt. That our families would find themselves in the midst of scandal, of humiliation.