“It’s over.” It is for me, but I won’t let him win easily. I make one last attempt to save my dignity. With a wicked smile I give up on my own car to latch onto him, tickling him harder. He stumbles back, with me on top of him, laughing too hard to concentrate on coming in first. I try to push myself out from under him but he presses me back harder.
All my distractions are useless as he sails over the finish line.
“Yes!” he whoops, fist-pumping the air. “I am the master!”
“You change when you play as Daisy.”
“Tell me, Bobo. Tell me who the man is.” He drops down next to me, resting his chin on my shoulder. God, he’s such a dork. “Come on,” he sing-songs. “Who’s the man?” His chestnut curls tickle my ear.
Rolling my eyes, I shove him away.
It’s been about two weeks since our great makeout disaster, and for the most part things are back to normal.
Well.Almostnormal.
Okay, yes, I still think about that night, like literally all the time. Cam was right, it hurts a lot, but what we have isn’t worth the risk. Relationships make things messy, and if I lost him due to hurt feelings I don’t know what I’d do.
Not that he even knows I have feelings, but it’s pointless now to even bring it up. I mean, what happens if we try? What happens if by some miracle he did want me and we break up? What then? I know I wouldn’t be able to come back from that kind of rejection. It’s better to hope and dream instead of having it and then destroying it.
Now I just have that night to relive whenever these feelings get to much. And I know Cam downloaded an app on his phone, even though he won’t admit it. I saw some notifications from it one morning. At first it hurt, but I just have to swallow it. It’s not good for me, and I have to be honest with myself.
I’m a little curious too.
I’ve never slept with anyone. I’ve hooked up, but I’ve never had sex, and I think now I need to start thinking about what I want my future to look like. The truth is that Cam will move on, he’ll find someone, and eventually that person will become his entire world.
Blinking fast, I push through the rush of emotion that thought brings me.
Cam is off the table, and okay, maybe some part of me has always hoped and wondered . . . almost thought,well maybe.
Well,maybebecame a reality, and now I know for sure it can never happen again. I should be happy. Cam gave me closure—a solid no. It’s never going to happen. I’m twenty-six and I’ve never had a real boyfriend. In college there were guys here and there, but nothing substantial. I’ve never let anyone top me. I blew some guys in college, but that’s about it. Since then I’ve gone on a date or two, but I really don’t want anything meaningless.
I want a boyfriend. I want someone who wants me as much as I want them. My dildo in the drawer gets enough use when I’m alone, but I think it may be time to actually try. Cam doesn’t want me, and I’m never going to move on if I don’t try. So maybe that night was a good thing. It stripped the hope from my fantasy.
Now it’s time to live in reality.
“What are you doing tonight?” He’s flipping through his phone now, and I see the app he’s looking through from here. He looks over at me with a smile so forced it’s painful to watch.
I have the next two days off and I want to spend most of the time with Cam. With things back to normal I know it’s only a matter of time before he meets someone new, and that’s okay. I’m going to soak up as much time with him as I can.
Cam falls against me on the couch, sort of crushing me under his weight. “Don’t make me tickle you again.”
“You know I hate that shit.” I smile but it falls hearing the loud buzz of his phone.
“Seems important.”
“It’s not.” Cam’s eyes flick to his phone, though.
“It’s okay, Camden Marisol Almeida.” He grins, kissing the side of my head. I hate to admit that I’m happy this part of our relationship hasn’t changed. Cam is a very handsy person, and I was afraid things would be too weird.
“I feel like it’s weird to bring up.”
“Cam, I figured you’d meet up with someone eventually. My hand has completely forgotten about you.”
His plump lips drop open, and I’m brought back to that night and how good they felt against mine. How right it felt . . . the heat, his scent. The way his body, despite being the opposite of mine, fit so well against me.
No see, this right here. I need to get over it.
“Am I that forgettable?”
