The Way Back To Me (Back To Me #1)
Page 9
That's easier said than done.
I walk to my dresser and spritz myself with some perfume then apply some lip gloss, knowing it will make Alexa happy and she won't drag me back in here and do it herself.
I lift my hair, letting it fall down over my shoulders and back, shaking it free of my face, taking deep, calming breaths as I do. I close my eyes and take one last deep breath. I can do this. It's just a fake date and it's only Cameron Stone. So, why do I feel like I want to vomit?
"Olivia!" Alexa screeches.
Oh boy. I step into the living area and meet Cam's piercing green eyes. His laughing smile at something Alexa said fades and he stares at me with intensity I've never seen before. This is not going to help calm my nerves at all. No one has ever looked at me like that.
Alexa clears her throat and Cam blinks.
"You look great," he tells me, still not smiling.
"Thanks," I reply and he still isn't smiling. I fidget. He stares. I fidget some more.
Alexa clears her throat. "Those shoes look perfect."
"Maybe this was a bad idea," I say, stating the obvious. Alexa huffs and smacks Cam in the chest. He blinks and shakes his head as if to snap himself out of a trance. He is so weird.
"What?" he asks.
I roll my eyes and start picking at my cuticles.
"Liv thinks this might be a bad idea," she tells her brother.
"What?" he asks. "No, it's not a bad idea. Since when did you get so wimpy, anyway?"
I, of course, bristle at that. "Pardon?"
"You heard me," he taunts.
"Wimpy? I'm not wimpy. You were just staring at me like you'd rather be anywhere but here."
"Just thinking about practice," he hedges, a clear lie.
I smirk. "Now I know how to tell when you're lying."
Alexa laughs.
"But since you're here, we may as well do this," I say.
"You make it sound like I'm carting you off to the guillotine," he teases with a chuckle.
"With you, one can never be too sure," I answer, picking up my purse.
"You should take a jacket."
I roll my eyes. "I've got a sweater on. I'm fine."
"Trust me. It's a hell of a lot colder at night here in October than it is in Destiny."
"Fine," I tell him and turn to see Alexa already bringing me one from my room. "I could have gotten that."
"You could have, but would you have picked this jacket? Or the wrong one?"
"Likely, according to you, the wrong one," I say honestly, knowing I'd never have picked the jean jacket she's chosen.
"Exactly. Now get out of here."
"Got a hot date," Cam teases her as he opens the door.
"I just might," she answers, earning a glare from Cam.
"Better be a decent dude or I'll kick his ass."
"Yes, Dad."
"Let's go before you two get into it again," I urge.
"Good plan," Alexa agrees. "I'll be sure he uses a condom."
"Christ," is all Cam says as he steers me out the door.
He's still grumbling under his breath as we exit the building. I can't hide my smirk.
"You know she does that to you on purpose, right?"
He nods. "I know. Doesn't make it any easier to hear."
"She's a woman, Cam—an adult."
"To me she'll always be my baby sister," he admits as he opens the truck door for me and helps me inside. Wow. Chivalry isn't dead after all.
Once I'm in, he closes the door and I start to shake. Beads of sweat form on my forehead and upper lip. I should be putting my seatbelt on, but I can't. I was the only one not wearing one and I'm the only one still alive.
"Liv," he urges and I turn to look at him. I wonder how long he's been calling my name. "Liv, what is it? What can I do?"
"Seatbelt. I c-can't…"
"Okay, it's okay," he tells me, holding my trembling hands in his. "Is it easier for you to drive?"
I nod. "I-I can't, haven't … not since…"
He nods and pulls me close, holding me tight. "It's all right. When you calm down, you can drive. But don't tell Lex or she's going to be pissed."
I cling to him, my hands fisting his jacket, my nose buried in his chest. Something about this feels familiar. Almost like déjà vu but I don't remember this happening before.
I take a deep breath and notice Cam smells really good. Woodsy and a bit like Speed Stick. The scent calms me. Strange. Everything about this is so strange.
"Okay?" he asks, looking down at me.
I nod, loosening my death grip on his jacket. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. I get it, Liv."
He hands me his keys and gets out of his truck, jogging around the front, so I scoot over into the driver's seat.
"Holy hell you're a big guy," I tell him when he gets in. He chuckles as I move the seat forward, then adjust the mirrors. I turn to him then and he's looking at me. "Thanks, Cam… for being so great just now. I don't know why it's easier for me to drive. All I know is being a passenger is impossible."
"You're in control when you're driving. You didn't have that when—"
I nod and swallow.
"You weren't wearing a seatbelt, right?"
I nod again. "I can wear it when I'm driving."
"Again, it's about control. Give it some time. After a couple of dates, we'll see how you feel about me driving."
"Okay. Thank you. I mean it."
"You should feel pretty fucking special in that seat. No one but me has ever driven this truck. It's my baby," he confesses, running his hand over the dash.
"I'll try not to get any scratches on it."
He shakes his head. "Nope, not good enough. You will not get any scratches, dings, dents, or any form of damage done to my vehicle."
I laugh and salute him "Yes, Sir!"
He chuckles.
I buckle my seatbelt and turn on the truck, backing out of the spot with ease.
"Where are we headed?"
"Murphy's."
"Where?" I ask, turning left when he tells me to.
"It's this hole in the wall bar that has some of the best burgers I've ever tasted," he tells me.
"Oh my God. Don't you dare let Ethel hear you say that!" I warn.
"Never. I value my life. Besides, this place can't hold a candle to Ethel's cooking. I'm not sure what Destiny's going to do if she and Eddie every close up the diner."
"I can't imagine it. I refuse. She makes the best peach pie I've ever tasted," I admit.
"Hmm. A peach pie lover. I'd have picked you for apple," he says, then directs me to turn right at the light.
"Apple pie is great, but it's boring. Everyone likes apple pie."
"And you like to be different."
"Yep. I've always liked being different. It sets me apart from everyone else," I tell him then look at him sideways.
"What?"
"It's also what made you hate me."
He squirms in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. "I didn't hate you."
I laugh. "Oh-ho, you totally hated me. You'd see me and I swear steam came out your nostrils, and then you'd target me like a bull seeing red."
"Turn in here," he directs. When I park and turn the engine off, he turns to me. "Let's finish this conversation inside."
I nod. He grabs my hand and pulls me across the seat and out the passenger door. I hand him his keys and he locks the truck with his fob, then tucks them in his pocket.
"My purse," I remember.
"You won't need that. Dinner's on me and it's rude to screw around on your phone during a first date. See? There's rule number one," he announces, clearly proud of himself.
"Okay. No phone during dates."
We walk into the building and there's a long bar stretching the length of the room with tables scattered in the middle of the floor and booths along the perimeter. It's surprisingly clean. There's some eighties hair band playing on the jukebox and Cam guides me toward a booth in the corner.
It's one of those that curves and fits only two people, meaning I have to sit right next to him. Close to him. Oh boy.
I slide in first and when Cam sits next to me, I find myself a bit cramped and edge over just a bit. He is such a big guy. I never noticed it until I got up close—and I don't mean when he bullied me. I didn't pay attention to him then. Well, okay, I did, but just his eyes. They would turn from this light emerald green to a deep mossy green when he would say whatever he felt he needed to say. His nostrils would flare. The tips of his ears would get red.
Cam passes me a menu just as a waitress comes up with two glasses of water. She's beautiful. Platinum blonde hair with perfect curls, big brown eyes, full curves where I have none.
"Well, hello there, Cam," she greets, setting the water on the table. "I like your company tonight much better than your usual."
I just bet. I smirk as I take a drink of water. No doubt this is Cam's usual type… seeing as Brittany is also a busty platinum blonde, but something about his woman doesn't seem superficial and fake.
"How are you doing, honey?" she asks me and I know I'm right.
"Fine, thanks. I'm Olivia."
"Sheila. This one usually comes in with the rest of the giants they have on the football team at Prospect. Let me tell you, they run me something fierce. Those boys can eat!" she tells me.
"I can only imagine."
"We're not that bad," Cam defends.
Sheila gives him a look.
"If we are, it's all Dekker. I don't know where that skinny kid puts all that food," Cam says.
"Skinny?" I ask in shock. "He is anything but skinny."
"Compared to the rest of us, he is."
Cam's million-dollar smile is out, showing his perfect teeth, perfect lips, and when he runs his tongue along the bottom one, I want to follow behind with my own. What is wrong with me?
"Is it warm in here?" I ask, slipping off my jacket. Cam reaches over and helps me.
"It's no wonder. A sweater and a jacket," he observes.
"It's your sister's fault."
Sheila's grinning, enjoying our interaction and when she sends me a wink, I know she thinks this is something it isn't. But I don't want to tell her Cam is taking pity on me and showing me what it's like to date. How pathetic would that make me? Ugh… I'm pitiful.
"What would you like to drink, Olivia?"
"Do you have diet soda?" I ask.
"We sure do, honey. What's your flavor?"
"Diet Dr. Pepper?" I ask, hopeful.
"Regular or cherry?"
"Oh wow. Cherry please."
She nods then looks at Cam.
"I'll have the same but with the sugar. That diet shit is disgusting," he says, curling his lip.
"Whatever. I love it."
"I know, but you could use some of the sugar to put some weight on, Miss Skin and Bones."
I roll my eyes and Sheila snickers. "I'll be right back with your drinks."
I peruse the menu. "What do you suggest?" I ask Cam.
"The deluxe cheeseburger. A single for you for sure."
"Big burgers?"
He holds out his hands and curves them, showing me the size.
"No way."
He nods and grins and pats his belly. "This is the only place that can fill me up with one meal."
"You are pretty big," I say and then immediately blush when Cam lifts his brows and grins. "Pervert."
He chuckles at that.
"So what do you get?"
"The double deluxe cheeseburger, fries, a chocolate malt, and a glass of milk."
I give him a look.
"What?"
"All that grease and then a glass of milk?"
"Milk. It does a body good," he tells me then lifts his arm up and flexes his muscle. Oh my. I think his biceps are bigger than my thighs.
He catches me staring and grins.
He leans over and whispers, "Like what you see, Brennan?"
I narrow my eyes. "You're so full of yourself."
"That's called confidence, Livvy."
I snort. "There's a fine line between confidence and arrogance, and you, Cameron Stone, passed that sucker a few thousand miles ago."
His breath caresses my ear in a whisper, "That shiver that ran through you body just now tells me you like it."
"Do not." Liar.
"Liar."
"Here we go," Sheila announces, pulling us out of the danger zone. She sets our drinks on the table along with a basket of tortilla chips and salsa. "Your usual?" she asks Cam.
He nods as if nothing happened. "Same for Livvy, but a single and a small malt."
"Milk?" Sheila asks.
Cam nods. "She needs to bulk up."
I huff.
"You are a little skinny, honey," Sheila agrees.
I don't say anything, just put the straw in my glass, and take a long drink of soda. Sheila walks away and I watch Cam carefully tear off one end of the paper on his straw. I know what he's going to do before he does it. I did it enough with Danny and Cassidy. More times than not, there's a tear somewhere in the paper and the prank fails.
"Don't do it," I warn with a giggle.
"Why not?"
"It won't work anyway," I challenge.
Eyeing me closely, Cam wraps his lips around the end of the straw and I raise a brow.
"You wouldn't."
He wiggles his eyebrows and grins then blows, the paper zipping straight at me, hitting me in the cheek. He laughs while I snicker and pretend to glare.
"Very nice," I laugh.
"I never back down from a challenge," Cam informs me.
"Color me shocked."
His smile fades a bit. "Look, Olivia. I never hated you."
I lean back against the booth. "No? You could have fooled me."
"I didn't."
"Then what was your problem? You were always in my face and I never did anything wrong. I was nothing but pleasant to everyone," I remind him.
"I know. That was the problem."
He looks down at his glass, his finger wiping away the condensation.
"You didn't like me because I was nice?" I ask, confused.
He sighs and his gaze meets mine. "I hated that you were fake."
I bristle. "But I—"
He cuts me off with a wave of his hand. "I know. I know now that that was really you. At the time, I thought you were just pretending to be nice to everyone and everyone fucking loved you. It pissed me off."
I blow out a breath and blink. "Wow. Of all the things I've ever been, fake has never been one of them."
He nods.
"Why did that make you angry enough to get in my face every chance you got? There has to be a bigger reason—and don't tell me I was an easy target or I'll slap you again," I tell him with a grin.
He rubs his cheek as if remembering. "I'll take a pass on the slap."
"Good choice."
He takes a drink of his soda, then looks up at me, gauging me, weighing his words. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "My mom is fake."
Huh? I don't ask the question, just wait.
"She puts on this… façade for people, being sweet as can be, letting them see who she wants them to see." He pauses and I reach out for his hand. He looks at it as if it's going to bite him, before relaxing and closing his fingers around mine. "But when she gets home, the real Louise Stone comes out."
"And she's not very nice," I finish for him.
He shakes his head. "No, she's not." He's focused on our hands, his index finger smoothing down some of the jagged cuticles I'd been picking at before.
"She was great when my dad was alive, until she got alone in a room with us. Then she'd tell us what brats we were, how we were a burden. And if we didn't behave the way she wanted, she'd sneak in a pinch that was hard enough to bring tears to our eyes, but not hard enough to leave a mark."
"I'm so sorry, Cam," I tell him, squeezing his hand. His other hand comes up and covers mine, enveloping them wit
hin his hold.
"Don't be. You have nothing to be sorry for, while I on the other hand have so many things to apologize for."
"No, no, Cam. I can understand why you thought what you did. You didn't really know me and having to deal with…" I break off, my heart hurting so much for what he and Alexa have gone through.
"See, this right here. Before… well, before, I would have lost my shit thinking you were full of shit, being falsely kind," he admits, his gaze locked on mind, his thumb caressing the inside of my wrist.
"But now you know I'm not," I reply, not daring to look away from those gorgeous green eyes.
He nods. "Now I know."
"Okay, you two, here are your burgers," Sheila announces, startling us out of the little bubble we were in and thrusting us back into reality. I quickly look away and readjust, making myself more comfortable—at least that's what I'm telling myself. I'm not trying to force distance. Nope. Everything's fine… except for the fact that while my hand was in Cam's, my heart thumped in my chest so hard I swore he could hear it; my wrist tingled as he caressed it. It was more than just me comforting him and him apologizing to me. Boy, oh boy.
With our meals set before us, I look down at the biggest cheeseburger I've ever seen. It's topped with lettuce and tomato, pickle on the side.
I flick my eyes to Cam who's grinning. "There is no way I'm going to finish all of this. You realize that, right?"
He shrugs. "You might surprise yourself, but if you don't finish it, I'll eat the rest." He pats his tummy.
"How are you not fat?" I blurt out, wishing immediately I could take it back.
He chuckles. "Football. Practice, lifting weights, games."
I nod and reach for the ketchup.
"Are you going out for cheerleading?" he asks and I freeze.
I lick some ketchup from my finger, unsure of how to answer. My stomach full of dread, uncertainty, guilt. I look away, setting the ketchup bottle on the table. "I don't think so."
"Hmm," he says, loading up his burger with ketchup and mustard.
"Why?" I ask, after salting my fries.
He shrugs. "You were always a cheerleader and you were good at it, really good."