Just For You

by Leen Elle

  He reminded Imogen of the first boy she ever went out on a date with. They looked the same: same square jaw; same clear, tan skin; same tall stature; same beautiful hair; same self-assurance that drew girls in like ants to sugar. She smiled to herself. Yes. He picked her up in a blue Mustang and she went weak in the knees. All night he blinded her with his smile and she remembered the distinct out-of-body feeling she experienced when, at the end of the night, he drew her close, gently, tenderly, locked his eyes with hers, and leaned in to press their soft mouths together.

  That was the start of a whirlwind summer romance and Imogen looked back on it with fond memories. At sixteen, he was the best thing that ever happened to her and she liked to think that she was the same for him. It was over once school started again, but they parted mutually; she never harbored any malicious feelings or ill will toward him. His name was Jack Hannigan and the last she'd heard he'd moved to New York and started working at a big-time ad agency.

  She hadn't thought of him in a while but now that he popped into her mind she smiled to herself and said a happy "hello" to him.

  Old feelings flared up. She remembered how safe it felt to be in his strong arms, to hear his voice whispering in her ear after a hard day, to feel his lips press into her temples and cheeks. To be sure she'd been in other relationships since Jack- after all, it had been ten or so years since he and Imogen were even an item- but he was special because he was her first many things: her first date, her first kiss, her first real relationship…

  And he was so different from Cameron. But what did that matter? she asked herself. She didn't feel that way about Cameron. No. What she felt for him was very different than anything she'd ever felt for Jack or the other men she'd dated after Jack.

  For whatever reason, she did like Cameron; he had his moments. He obviously wasn't all bad. For one, he helped her even though he injured her. He might not have liked doing it, but he did it anyway. After that he also agreed to have lunch with her, even if she did have to admit to herself that she partially guilted him into it.

  Now he found her totally and completely annoying. Imogen couldn't figure out where she'd gone wrong. That wasn't her intention. She just saw something in Cameron that was similar to herself, as ridiculous as it sounded, considering the vast difference in their personalities.

  It was her honest belief that they needed something each of them was in the position to provide the other: friendship. Contact. Platonic companionship. Company.

  No matter how much he protested against her she knew that deep down- deep, deep, deep, deep down- Cameron knew this, too. She couldn't figure out why he wouldn't let go of whatever was holding him back, but it frustrated her. All she wanted was to get him to smile at something, to stop and smell the roses, to use a cliché, to laugh genuinely and fearlessly. She wanted him to let go without looking back.

  But she wasn't a miracle worker. Imogen wasn't about to try to force him into anything. If he was an unwilling participant, then she would have to accept that and try to get along with her own life and forget the first person she'd ever properly, if in a bit of an unorthodox manner, met in Chicago. There was no use leading a horse to water and trying to force it to drink, she reasoned.

  Maybe she was the one having trouble letting go. Perhaps she was blindly latching on to something that would never work because it was the first thing she knew in a city she'd never been to before at the beginning of her new start in life. Maybe she was so attached to Cameron because she was scared and because she wanted Cameron to help her cross a path that, at times, she wasn't even sure she could see clearly.

  Her head was beginning to hurt.

  "Is this seat taken?"

  Imogen looked up to see a new but familiar face. It was Todd. He was smiling at her and pointing at the bench. She shook her head, long strands of hair falling into her eyes.

  Todd grunted as he slid and slouched into the seat. She noticed that his attention was focused on a man and his son. He watched them for a few seconds before speaking again.

  "Glad to have found you here."

  "Did it take you very long to find me?"

  "Not really," he said, picking at a loose thread on the thigh of his dark jeans. "Easier than I thought. Either you're a terribly conspicuous hider or I'm a brilliant seeker."

  Imogen smiled. "It's a toss up."

  Todd nodded. "I'm okay with that conclusion. Did you get your ice cream?"

  Imogen held up the small ring of paper that she tore off from her cone as evidence.

  "What did you really come here to say to me?"

  Todd seemed surprised by Imogen's frank question and he hesitated. Crossing his arms over his broad chest and tapping his foot on the grass, he started. "I felt bad back there. I don't know you that well but I don't know. I guess I just felt sorry for you. Cameron's a bit…" his face scrunched up as he searched for the word in his mind. "He's a bit rough around the edges."

  "I'll say," Imogen scoffed.

  "He doesn't mean it. Most of the time."

  Imogen raised her eyebrow and Todd felt his cheeks go hot.

  "Heh. Well, I'm his friend. Doesn't that count for anything? I must be a masochist then, right?"

  "You're not the only one. I've been trying to be his friend for the past couple weeks too. There's something so exquisite in being barked at, I think." Her voice was soft, a sad tinge around its edges. Todd didn't know if she was joking or admitting something true to him, so he waited for her to go on. Better to be silent than to say the wrong thing, he thought.

  "You seem like a pretty decent human being," Imogen said. "How in the world did the two of you ever end up being friends?"

  "It was more thrust upon us than it was our choice. Our parents were friends."

  "That makes sense."

  Todd chuckled. "Probably the only reason why it's ever worked between us. How'd you two meet, anyway?"

  Imogen dropped her head and swung her feet back and forth. "He ran into me. Literally. He hurt my ankle but he was nice enough to fix it for me."

  "Wow." Todd let out a long whistle. "He did something nice for a change. Maybe I am getting through to him. It's taken me nearly twenty six years but I believe in therapy this is what they call a breakthrough."

  Imogen laughed.

  "Look, Imogen, I'm about to tell you something you will never, ever, not even on his best day, hear from Cameron. I'm his best friend and sometimes I know him better than he knows himself. He needs you, more than he knows."

  Imogen's brows drew together.

  "You could do him a world of good. Believe it or not, he's worth it. I've only known you for what, five minutes, but I know that if you can pull an Ethan Hunt and complete Mission: Impossible that you'll be worth it to him, too. He just needs to be shined is all."

  There was a loud peal of laughter coming from a toddler who was being chased by his father. A dog barked in the distance. A teenager yelled behind them.

  "I don't want to be a nuisance to him anymore. I think I overstayed my welcome." As Imogen said the words all she could picture in her mind was that brown book.

  "You probably have more of a chance than you want to think."

  "Why's that?"

  "He's standing right over there."

  Todd pointed to his left. Sure enough, there Cameron stood, next to the ice cream vendor, chin to his chest and hands shoved in his pocket. He was staring at Todd and Imogen with a look that wasn't quite contempt. A group of children ran in front of him and joined the line for ice cream.

  Imogen's jaw dropped open and she couldn't have helped the noise of surprise that escaped her throat at that moment. "How in the world---"

  "I'm a miracle worker. He does feel bad. Okay, well, sort of bad." He amended his statement when Imogen shot him a look. "If anything I told him he owes you an apology, so if you'd like it we can hop on over there. I'm sure I have one more miracle up my sleeve for today."

  Imogen laughed. "Todd," she beamed. "I'm beginning to like you."r />
  "Stop it, you're making me blush." Todd stood and watched Imogen slide off the bench and wiggle her toes back into her sandals, which she had discarded in the grass underneath her. There was something priceless in the feeling of cool grass on her bare skin; she'd always loved the sensation.

  She could have swore she saw Cameron blush as she and Todd made their way over to him. Whether it was from anger or embarrassment she couldn't tell.

  Todd stood like a proud father when Cameron asked Imogen, "So… you still up for that ice cream?"

  Chapter Five

  If We Sleep Together, Would It Make It Any Better?

  A light mist of rain fell on the city and Imogen held her bag above her head to keep dry as she waited at the crosswalk. She signaled a 'thank you' to the car that let her pass. It was the first gray day she'd experienced since her move and it was like living in a black and white photograph.

  The theater was just as empty as the lobby was. As she let her eyes adjust to the darkness Imogen made out the opaque form of a hand in the air and she followed it up to the very top row of seats. Smack dab in the middle sat Cameron. He didn't even look at her or so much as turn his head. Imogen smiled crookedly at him though he couldn't see it.

  She couldn't help but notice that he was alone, sans Todd.

  Cameron, with his arms folded across his chest, couldn't help but notice it either. Angry sweat broke out on his brow.

  "Where is he?"

  "I, I thought he was with you." Imogen slid the purse from her shoulder and sat down, leaving an empty seat between her and Cameron.

  "Quite obviously not," Cameron growled. "I'm alone, aren't I?"

  "Maybe he's just running late." Looking up at the screen to see the movie had already started, Imogen added, "I was."

  Neither of the two paid much attention to the movie. The empty seat between them felt like the distance of the Grand Canyon, a black hole that would suck them down into nothingness.

  Each movement of the other had a gravity all its own, a tangible pull the other could feel. They moved stiffly and slowly, as if awkwardness added weight to their bodies. Imogen was just as hyperaware of every breath, sigh, and movement Cameron made as he was hyperaware of her. Their minds ran at warped speed, each one wondering if a hand on the armrest would invite the other to enjoin their fingers or if the two of them together had any idea whatsoever about what the movie was about. By the time the credits rolled they were both exhausted from the mind-play.

  Cameron was going to kill Todd. The next time he saw him, that would be it. Maybe he'd do it quickly, with a gun. Or perhaps slowly, cutting off his limbs inch by agonizing inch with a dull butterknife. Leaving him alone here with Imogen was the bastard's plan all along, Cameron seethed.

  "How'd you like the movie?" Imogen asked once they'd made their way outside. An employee was on a ladder, rearranging the movie titles on the marquee. It wasn't raining anymore.

  "It was a waste of five bucks." Cameron held his arm out for a cab.

  "Yeah," Imogen said, drawing circles in the concrete with her toe. "I didn't pay any attention to it either."

  A vacant taxi made its way toward them and Cameron waved his hands frantically in the air, screaming after it when it sped past him.

  "Bastard!" he shouted, lifting his hand in the air again.

  "What are you doing?"

  Cameron opened his mouth, acidic words burning on his tongue. Then, he thought the better of it. "I'm not even going to make a sarcastic remark."

  Before he registered what was happening, Cameron realized his arm had been yanked down by the wrist and Imogen was touching him. "You're not leaving me," she said with a straight expression, her eyes deepening.

  "And you," he yanked his arm from her grasp and jabbed his pointer finger into her chest with the rhythm of his speech, "are not going to tell me what I'm can and cannot do. Now if you'll kindly scamper off." He made a swooshing motion with both of his hands.

  "The entire point of today is for us to get to know each other. We didn't so much as look at each other back there. You can't exactly call that bonding."

  "I call it two hours of pure hell." Cameron raised his eyebrows at her and set his jaw. "In case you haven't figured it out, dear princess, this was a set up by our wonderful friend Todd, who, by the way, I hope you've said your proper goodbyes to because the next time you see him it'll be in a casket."

  Imogen laughed. "You are so self-centered, did you know that? You think everything is about you. Well, calm down. I'm not trying to become your girlfriend, Cameron. All I want is to maybe go see a movie with you without it being awkward, maybe go sit down at a restaurant and have an actual conversation with you. All I want is for us to be friends."

  Cameron ran a hand through his hair. "Being friends is the last thing I want, in case that wasn't made explicitly clear before."

  "Too bad." Imogen stepped forward, grabbed Cameron by the wrist, and yanked as hard as she could. He stumbled and nearly collided with the ladder from which the theater employee was climbing down but caught himself before anything disastrous could happen.

  He was surprised at Imogen's ironclad grip and even resorted to attempting to peel her fingers from him one by one. "Let go of me."

  His escape attempts were as pathetic as his tone. He gave up.

  -*-

  "What'll it be?" The rather plump and bored looking waitress with wildly red curly hair and entirely too much blue eyeshadow on her lids smacked her chewing gum while waiting on Cameron to answer.

  He stared straight across the table at Imogen with a look like fire, his lips in a tense, straight line. He hadn't so much as opened the menu.

  "We'll both have the cheeseburger, please. A sweetened iced tea for me and…" Imogen tilted her head and widened her eyes at Cameron but his expression was constant. "Two sweetened iced teas will do."

  The waitress raised her drawn-on eyebrow before taking the menus and leaving the two alone again.

  "I hate iced tea."

  "That's too bad, because that's what I ordered."

  "I'm not hungry."

  "You're going to eat."

  "I'm not paying for this."

  "Oh, God." Imogen smacked an open palm on the table top and slid forward. "Would you stop being such a princess for one minute?"

  Without missing a beat, Cameron glanced at his watch. "59. 58. 57."

  Imogen shook her head. "Sometimes I don't even know why I try."

  "Me either."

  At that moment, Imogen was asking her why she put herself through the hassle. She could come up with a thousand things at the top of her head that might be infinitely more interesting than basically forcing an unwilling participant to spend a little time with her. She wanted to slap Todd the next time she saw him, too, if she was being honest with herself, for leaving her all alone with Eternal Pessimist over there, who was still glaring at her.

  Grinding her teeth, she pulled her cell phone out from her purse and checked for any messages. There weren't any at all, and she didn't want to wait anymore.

  "Where. Are. You?" She typed, sending the text message to Todd's phone number.

  Cameron cleared his throat and slid back, resting one arm across the top of the booth. He studied Imogen through squinted eyes, trying to see if the answer was written on her face. "Seriously. Why do you keep trying?"

  A smile played on the edges of Imogen's mouth. "Because I've been watching you for years now and I've fallen so madly, deeply in love with you that I've planned this entire thing. You were always supposed to twist my ankle so that I could finally get close to you, bind your hands together, gag you, and take you away to Vegas, where we'd enjoy a luxuriously speedy marriage and I could take you back to my underground lair somewhere off the Californian coast and keep you as a love slave until death do us part."

  "I said 'seriously.'"

  Imogen shook and dropped her head, a long curtain of hair falling over her face. The smile disappeared from her lips and her attention
was focused on her hands, folded in front of her. After a moment of silence she swallowed and caught his eye again.

  "Doesn't it bother you that maybe one day you'll wake up and realize that your life has passed you by?"

  Cameron scoffed. "Actually, I wish it would."

  Imogen's brows pulled together. "That's terrible, Cameron."

  The delicacy and quietness with which she muttered the words made Cameron's stomach twist into a thousand tiny knots. He swallowed and looked out the window to his left.

  "Do you really wish that?"

  He turned his head and came face-to-face with that pathetic, sad little puppy look she was wearing.

  Did he? Did he really wish for his life to just be… done?

  The waitress came back with their food. Cold tea sloshed and spilled onto the table but no one moved to clean it up.

  Cameron bit his bottom lip and focused his attention on anything that wasn't Imogen. He picked up his burger, already falling apart, and before taking a colossal bite out of it, muttered, "No."

  The words left his mouth but he pondered how large the part in him was that didn't want to be alone and how large the part of him was that told Imogen what she wanted to hear.

  She seemed appeased, anyway. For the moment.

  "What?" he snapped, his mouth full of food. She watched him with eager eyes as he ate.

  She shrugged at him and smiled. "I just wanted to see if the food was any good."

  "So why don't you find out for yourself?"

  "I thought you said you weren't hungry."

  He glared. "I changed my mind."

  "Don't you have any other moods besides annoyed and angry?" She cocked her head to the side and studied him.

  Cameron rolled his eyes and took another bite out of the burger. "Do you do anything else besides pester people?"

  Imogen laughed and took a sip of her tea. It was cold and made her throat constrict. "Depends on what your philosophy in life is. See, you call it pestering, but someone like Todd, for example, might call it being friendly."

  "How many times are we going to establish that Todd is a madman? He's on your level. Of course he's going to call you friendly. Crazy people don't know they're crazy and crazy people don't know when other people are crazy."