Wasted Words

by Staci Hart

  She laughed, and I noted the difference between Cam tonight and Cam that morning. She was relaxed, cheeks flushed with what seemed to be general happiness, when the last time I’d seen her, she’d been much more subdued.

  “How’d it go today? Did you talk to Bayleigh?”

  She nodded as she chewed, pulling one knee up. “Yeah, and Rose and Martin, too. It went well, or as well as it could have. Even Martin was gracious about it.”

  “He was probably just happy to have your blessing. You did give them your blessing, didn’t you?”

  “I did, and gladly.” She sighed. “So, yeah. All’s forgiven, and I’m really happy for Bayleigh and Martin. They’re sweet together. I guess he took her home last night.”

  I nodded, smiling. “Well, all right, Martin.”

  “And after work, I went shopping with Rose and her friend Lily.”

  I squinted, trying to remember. “The tall blonde or the short one?”

  “The tall one. Ballerina.”

  “Right. How’d it go?”

  “It was mostly a nightmare, but there was just that moment when I put on the dress and time stopped or something. I definitely get why people shop when they’re depressed.”

  “And you got heels?”

  She poked at her food and shook her head. “Yeah. I’m not gonna lie, I’m scared to death. They’re pretty high, but the heel isn’t a stiletto, and there’s a platform. I’m only partially sure what that means, but apparently it’s supposed to help me not fall down. Because not only would falling down be embarrassing, but my dress is short enough that the entire party would see my vag.”

  “Okay, you’re definitely hanging onto me then. Nobody gets to see your vag except me.”

  She smirked. “How about you? How Kyle was Kyle? Like, drunk twins Kyle or Kyle trying to read scary books that bite?”

  “Worse than either.”

  She frowned. “Wow. What’d he do?”

  I almost admitted it to her without thinking, not used to keeping secrets from her, but I caught myself. “He was trying to be my wingman and mouthed off when I told him I wasn’t interested in browsing.”

  “Oh.” I couldn’t read her face.

  I took another bite, trying to make light of the whole thing. “I dunno, Cam. I don’t want to hang out with him anymore — I feel like I’ve let the whole thing go on long enough.”

  “Well, you don’t have to hang out with him if you don’t want to. It’s the beauty of being a grown up. That and beer.”

  “And no bedtime,” I added. “Or school.”

  She laughed. “I love school. And learning.”

  “Not me,” I said with the shake of my head. “The pressure was too much.”

  She snorted. “Says the guy who played ball at Nebraska.”

  I shrugged. “That was different, you know? Simpler. I knew what I was doing on the field. Everything else is … complicated.”

  “Do you miss it?” she asked quietly.

  “Every day,” I answered.

  “What do you remember? Like, what do you think about?”

  I swallowed, considering the question. “Everything. The smell of the turf, the sweat, the adrenaline. The sound of pads and helmets clashing, the feeling of the football in my hands. The feeling of taking somebody down by sheer will and strength. It was my life for so long. Part of me wonders if I’ll ever look back on that time of my life without longing.”

  “Well,” she said gently, “I think it’s good to remember. It’s part of who you are. You lived those moments, and as long as you remember, then it’s not lost.”

  I leaned over, heart aching as I pressed my lips to hers in thanks and adoration.

  When we finished eating a little while later, I sat back in my chair, contemplating seconds. But that was another thing I missed — the calories burned playing ball. It didn’t take long to learn that I couldn’t eat hamburgers and fried chicken every night for dinner when I wasn’t burning two thousand calories a day.

  I picked up our bowls, and she moved to stop me. “I’ll get that.”

  “Nope.” I didn’t stop moving. “You cooked, I clean. That’s the deal.”

  She smiled up at me. “Thanks.”

  “Thanks for cooking something so epic.” I set the bowls in the sink and turned on the faucet. “What do you want to do tonight?”

  She stretched in her seat. “I dunno. I’m off tomorrow, so I don’t need to get to sleep early. Probably just read.”

  I smiled at my hands as they washed the cheese out of a bowl. “I’m in.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’ve got to find out what happens to Bilbo. He just met Golem.”

  “Ooh. That’s one of my favorite parts. All right. Reading it is.” She stood and picked up the casserole dish, moving it to the counter before digging out a plastic container to store it in. “Mmm. This is going to make a solid lunch tomorrow.”

  “It should. I’m pretty sure Jack would commit a felony for this once he smelled it.”

  “You should take some to work for Jack too. There’s plenty to share.”

  “Good. Maybe he’ll give me a raise.”

  Cam laughed, and when I looked over at her, possession washed over me. She was so beautiful in a way that held no expectation, unassuming and easy. I felt like a thief or a treasure hunter, like I’d found in her in some long abandoned place that could never dull her brilliance, no matter how lonely or dark it may have been. But now she was mine, and I wasn’t going to let her go.

  She caught me watching and smiled in a way that I felt deep in my heart, and I turned, not caring that my hands were wet and soapy. I cupped her face, shifted my wet thumb against her skin, leaving a glistening streak in its wake. She wasn’t breathing, her eyes locked on mine, pupils widening as she waited for me to kiss her.

  So I did.

  I kissed her with my heart and with my soul, trying to tell her something words couldn’t allow because there just weren’t enough of them. Not the right ones. When I broke away, her eyes stayed closed, and she sighed. When they finally opened, she smiled again, blushing.

  “What was that for?”

  I shook my head, my face soft, mirroring hers. “Just because.”

  YOUTUBE SAVES

  Cam

  THE NEXT NIGHT, I STOOD in my bathroom, watching the end of another YouTube video that made liquid eyeliner look easy, with a deep hatred in my belly for girls who knew how to do it.

  Normally, I wouldn’t be so hateful, but frankly, I’d washed my face three times after ending up with eyeliner all over my face, and I was really, really annoyed. Rose and Lily made it seem so easy, but after my shower, I’d stood there looking at the haul of makeup, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into.

  Keep it simple, stupid. Be the boss of this. Don’t let the makeup win, Emerson.

  I took a breath and turned off my phone. No eyeliner — I was done with that noise. After re-applying my foundation, I picked up the brushes Lily had me buy. Eyeshadow I could do. A little dark on the outer edge. A lighter color in the crease. A creamy nude all over to blend it. I blinked at myself in the mirror.

  It wasn’t so bad. My mood improved.

  I had put in contacts, which I never did because I was lazy and didn’t really care. But for a fancy cocktail party and high heels? It was a contact sort of a night. I applied mascara, which was easy. Sorta. I maybe had to clean up my eyelids with a Q-tip, and I probably looked like a clown during the process, but whatever. I did it, and it looked great.

  Then came a little blush, and the lip crayon thingy I’d gotten. That was honestly the hardest part — moving the crayon with as few strokes as possible, making both sides of my lip even, not smudging it. I’d primed it like Lily told me to, though, and my fingers were crossed that it would stay put.

  I took a deep breath and looked in the mirror, feeling confident I’d done that right, though I eyed my hair suspiciously. My normal routine for makeup consisted solely of lip balm, and my h
air just did its own thing. Sometimes I’d braid it or throw it in a messy bun, and the rest of the time I just let it do what it wanted. I’d let it air dry and it waved simply and looked passable without me having to jack with it.

  I’d watched three tutorials on curling hair and felt mostly ready to try it myself.

  My curling iron — an ancient relic of my mother’s — had been fired up, and I took a deep breath, going over the steps in the videos I’d watched. So piece by piece, I curled it, tongue sticking out and face screwed up. After half an hour, my hair looked pretty fucking good, by my estimation, and I’d only burned the back of my ear. I was calling that a win. The final touch was to hairspray it, which I did from root to tip, scrunching it after.

  I stood back and looked myself over, shocked when I saw a legit lady staring back, which was weird.

  Weird, and oddly awesome.

  I tidied up in a hurry — Tyler would be home soon, and I wanted to be ready when he got there. We’d be leaving almost right away, plus I really, really wanted to see the look on his face when he saw me. I could gauge from that whether or not I’d done it right.

  I made my way into my room and to the dress hanging on the back of my closet door. I pulled the satin tie of the little kimono my mom had gotten for me for Christmas and let it fall to the ground. I’d never worn it before, but realized its purpose when I needed to put on makeup before getting dressed. Who even knew what kind of mess I would have made of my dress if I’d worn it while dealing with foundation.

  I reached for the dress reverently and stepped into it, slipped my arms in, holding my breath as I looked in the full-length mirror.

  Then I remembered I couldn’t button the back without Tyler.

  I blew out the breath between my lips, and they flapped together. I was filled with immediate regret, panicking that it messed up my lipstick. But when I leaned forward to check it in the mirror it was fine — thank God, because it’s very possible that might have cried if I’d had to wash any part of my face again.

  I heard his key in the door, and my pulse raced. I slipped my feet into my shoes and took a breath, smoothing the skirt of the dress nervously in the mirror before turning and walking out to meet him, full of hope.

  He was smiling when our eyes met, but he slowed to a stop, his smile slipping as he looked down my body, keys hanging in his hand.

  Nerves rushed through me, washing away that hope I’d had — blood rushed to my cheeks and ears, making the curling iron burn throb. It was wrong, all wrong. I should never have agreed to the pageantry, or I should have begged Rose to help me get ready.

  “Cam …” His voice was rough.

  I looked down at my shoes and took a breath. “I … God, I knew I would mess this up. I’m sorry. I tried to do it, make myself beautiful, but—”

  He was in front of me in a few steps, cupping my cheeks, angling my face so our eyes met. “Cam, you’re always beautiful. Always. When you’re sleeping. When you’re in a T-shirt and sneakers. Especially when you’re in a T-shirt and sneakers. But right now, I’ve never seen anything so perfect.”

  Surprise washed over me. “You mean … I didn’t screw it up?”

  He laughed and brushed his lips to mine, mindful of my lipstick. “You did the exact opposite of screwing up.”

  I sighed, exhaling the anxiety and filling my lungs with sweet relief. “Would you do up my buttons in the back?” I asked, turning in his arms as excitement surged. I swept my hair off my neck.

  “Of course.” I felt his hands on my back, the tug of the fabric. “I can’t believe you had a single doubt in your mind about yourself.”

  I chuckled. “Well, agonizing over my hair and makeup for the last two hours probably had something to do with it.”

  His hand lingered on my back as he bent to kiss the bare skin above my collar. “You could have skipped all of that and I’d still have stopped dead at the sight of you.”

  I leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on top of my head for a long moment.

  “I’d better go get changed so we can go. I’m ready to take you out and show the world you’re mine.” He pressed a kiss into my hair.

  His words sent a shiver through me, and when he pulled away, part of me wanted to forget the party and follow him into his room instead, to stay there for the rest of the night.

  But instead, I walked into the kitchen, appreciating the sound of my heels on the hardwood floor. There was some power in it, like a sexual battle cry. I stood a little straighter, feeling a lot sexier, and discovered that I was far more of a badass than I’d realized.

  I poured a scotch while I waited on Tyler, feeling classy as fuck, sipping the amber liquid as I paced around the kitchen to make sure I wasn’t going to fall down. Rose and Lily were right — for whatever reason, the heels didn’t feel unstable or overly painful. I mean, who knew how I’d feel after five or six hours, but after trying on twelve pairs of heels, these were easily the most comfortable. If I’d bought the pair that made me walk like a penguin because they were so tall and unstable, I doubt I’d make it down the stairs.

  I smiled at the thought of Tyler picking me up and carrying me. Or me riding piggy-back in this dress and high heels.

  But when Tyler walked into the room, my smile slid off my face and onto the floor.

  He glanced down at his wrist as he buttoned his cuff, his white button-down shirt hugging that long taper of his waist. A black suit coat hung on his forearm to match his pants — pants that fit his long, muscular legs perfectly. He pulled on the coat, and when he looked up at me and smiled, my knees almost buckled.

  I realized my mouth was hanging open and closed it.

  “I’ve never seen you in a full suit before,” I tried to say, but I mostly mumbled.

  His smile pulled into a smirk as he approached me. “What?”

  “You look amazing.” I must have been more clear because he heard me that time.

  He slipped a hand around my waist and stepped close, nearly pinning me against the counter. “Good. Then we match.”

  “Like a set?”

  He nodded. “I really want to kiss you, but I’m afraid of your lipstick.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  He chuckled and kissed me softly again. “I guess that’ll have to do, for now. Are you ready?”

  “Not really,” I said with a smile.

  “You’re gonna do great. I promise.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Just stick with me. I’ll take care of you, Cam.”

  Warmth blossomed in my chest. “I know you will.”

  He took my hand, still smiling down at me. “Then let’s go.”

  I smiled back, my anxiety all but gone, filled up on the confidence Tyler gave me, the sweetest gift.

  Tyler

  Cam gripped my arm like a lifeline as we walked down the stairs, her eyes down and in front of her, putting every ounce of concentration into surviving the descent. Not that it was necessary — I had her. There was no way she’d fall. No way I’d let her.

  Breathtaking. That was the only word I could use to describe her.

  It wasn’t her makeup, however nice that was, nor was it her dress, which happened to be stunning. It was Cam. She glowed from within, lit by her own batteries, her own spark. She felt good, even if she wasn’t sure whether or not anyone agreed, and that made her all the more beautiful to me.

  When we stepped outside, I left her on the sidewalk, stepping to the curb to hail a cab. When it approached, I pulled open the door, looking back to find her standing there in the twilight, her small purse clutched in front of her, eyes big and wide, lips sweet and red. It was a moment that burned itself in my mind, one that I knew would flash before my eyes before they rested eternally.

  I reached for her hand, and she took it, using it for leverage to step into the street and slip into the cab, and I slid in behind her.

  “The Waldorf, please,” I told the cabbie, and then I sat
back and reached for Cam’s hand.

  She smiled at me and let out a breath.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m okay. I feel … better. You make me feel better.”

  I smiled back and squeezed her hand. “Good. You’ve got nothing to be anxious about.”

  “I think it wouldn’t be so hard if I did this all the time,” she said, gesturing to herself, “but I just feel so out of my element, you know? I’m just uncertain of everything.”

  I slipped my arm behind her, pulling her close. “Well, then we should make sure you get plenty of practice. Let me take you to dinner when I get back from Nebraska.”

  She laughed. “Dinner, huh?”

  “Heels required.”

  “Only if you wear this suit. Because, yes.”

  I smirked and smoothed my tie. “You like my suit?”

  She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Oh, yeah. I think I’d like you out of your suit too.”

  I chuckled, not wanting to get my hopes up, though after the other night, I ached for her, knowing enough to taste what it would be like to have her completely. I thought about buttoning the back of her dress, the bare slice of skin that disappeared as I fastened it, her skin so soft, I had to kiss it when I completed the task.

  I recited running backs for a second to get a grip on myself.

  She smoothed a hand over the skirt of her dress, toying with the end, with her eyes full of adoration. It was strange to see her without her glasses — she was foreign and familiar all at once, and truth be told, I missed them. But she was ever beautiful to me. This was just another shade of her that I hadn’t yet seen.

  “Your dress is spectacular.”

  She looked up at me, her eyes sparking with joy. “Thank you. It just made me feel so pretty that I had to get it.”

  “You did good, Cam. Real good.”

  She smiled. “Are they feeding us at this thing?”

  “Yeah, dinner and hors d’oeuvres. And an open bar.”

  “Hallelujah. What’s it for? I can’t believe I didn’t think to ask. I was too worried about the prospect of applying lipstick.”

  I chuckled. “It’s a charity fundraiser for men’s cancers, put on by Gene Holmes.”