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Dean gulps, his Adam's apple visibly moving in his throat, his hazel eyes fixated on my smooth flesh. Goosebumps rise on my skin from his heated gaze.
"Is this what I need to do to make you interested in me? Is sex what you need?"
As if he's snapping out of his trance, Dean rushes forward, picks up my clothing from the floor, and shoves it in my hands, urging me to cover myself. "Shit, Cam, no. I don't need to have sex or to see you naked, not right now."
A frown forms on my lips. Does he not like me? Am I not attractive to him? I may be an inexperienced virgin, but I know enough about sex.
Spencer lost her virginity last year, and she told me everything I needed to know about sex. Plus, I've Googled it.
According to her, it's perfectly normal and the ultimate form of intimacy with someone you love. Spencer says giving your body to someone you love is a gift, and I should only give it to someone who will cherish me for the rest of my life. I had asked if Dallas would cherish her for the rest of his life, and she smiled and said yes.
"Would you ever want to do sexual things with me?" I ask, snapping my bra back on and pulling my T-shirt over my head.
"Jesus, Cam. I don't think we should have his conversation right now. You should wait until you're married to have sex."
"Whenwe'remarried, right?"
With a sigh, he nods. "Yes, when we're married, I'll make love to you every day."
"Okay," I whisper, feeling embarrassed by the fact I showed myself to him. "Take me home, now, please." He looks defeated, but he doesn't argue.
He cleans up our stuff, then five minutes later, we leave.
Later that night, after I'm freshly showered and tucked into bed, I replay the day in my head and realize that he never answered me when I asked if he was interested in me or if he'd ever want to have sex with me.
I dissect our conversation into tiny pieces until I've convinced myself that he doesn’t like me that way, and I'm embarrassed all over again.
With teary eyes, I reach across to my nightstand and grab my sketchbook that I'd placed there after I got home.
I open it to the page that I had saved with my pencil. A wide smile spreads across my face when I see the orange Post-it note that's stuck to my paper. I instantly recognize the handwriting.
You're beautiful,no matter what, and I'll only have eyes for you always.
Tears streak down my face,but this time, they're happy tears.
FOURTEEN
NOW
Camille
Walking into my office on Monday morning, I get a surprise I am unprepared for. Dean is waiting outside of my office door with two coffees in hand, and a bag of what I hope are donuts. I haven't spoken to him since his last text on Friday night, and honestly, seeing him right now doesn't make me the happiest.
He left me with too many thoughts and feelings that I had no business having about another woman's husband. But at this moment, seeing him standing in front of my door with coffee and snacks and a boyish grin on his lips, I'm taken back to eleven years ago and reminded of the boy he once was.
When he was mine, and we were too busy falling in love.
He’s the boy who left me behind.
I relent and allow him into my office. He closes the door, sets the coffee and bag on my desk, and takes a seat in the chair directly in front of my desk. I sit in my chair, then reach inside the brown bag, instantly delighted to find my favorite.
A Boston cream donut.
"I'm sorry about Friday night. I never meant to—" I begin, but he raises his hand to silence me.
"Let's forget about it. I think we both let things get a little too—"
It's my turn to cut him off now. "Out of hand?" I offer with a shrug. He flashes his bright white smile, his eyes dropping from mine to the cup of coffee in his hands.
