What Happens Now

Camden nodded. “I heard what she said to Kendall.”


“So is Max still the person you thought he was? Aren’t you mad at him?”

“A little, but he made a mistake. Aren’t you mad at Kendall?”

“What you just said.” I moved to stand facing him, my knees touching his bent ones. “I made a mistake, too. Look, I’ve never touched anyone like that in my life. If I could undo it, I would.” I would, wouldn’t I? “Camden, I don’t know what else to say. It happened. But everyone’s okay and it won’t ever happen again.”

Camden grabbed his forehead with both hands.

“Everyone is not okay,” he said. “Eliza’s been through a lot. I’m not making excuses for the way she treats people, but what you did . . . to someone else it might be no big deal. To her . . . it might be.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “You know I had no idea.”

He gazed at the sky and took a deep breath. “We all survive things, but what she’s survived is a little more intense than the rest of us. Also, she means a lot to me. She helped me put together a group of friends when I first got to school. She gave me the closest thing to the life I wanted, and she also gave me Silver Arrow. Then when I met you and we were all spending time together . . . that got me even closer to that life. But now it’s ruined.”

We were silent for a moment while I worked out what that meant.

“Oh,” I said. “She won’t want you to see me anymore.”

Camden sighed. “It would be like, me choosing between you and my family, if that makes sense.”

My throat closed up. I was going to ask the question before I chickened out.

“Are you still in love with Eliza?”

“What? No! God, no.” He looked straight at me now, caught his breath. What if he said I love YOU?

Then again, what if it didn’t matter whether he said it or not? I’d already done one brave thing. I was on a roll.

“Good,” I said. “Because I’m in love with you.”

He continued to stare at me while I continued to not breathe. Then he reached out and yanked me onto his lap, where the pressure of our bodies together took on a new shape and sensation.

I laughed nervously, until he kissed me hard. I kissed hard back, for a long time, and during that time it was easy to believe everything I’d ever wanted from him, his strength and confidence and devotion, was not misguided.

Somewhere in there, along that line between pleasure and pain, I began to cry. The sobs started deep within me, muffled by the kisses, but then they began to escape. It took Camden a few moments before he noticed and pulled away, putting both hands on my face.

“What? What is it?”

“What you said about the life you wanted. I wanted that, too. You gave me those things, too. And now it’s all turned to crap. In addition to the other stuff that was already crap.”

I sobbed again. Camden reached out and tentatively stroked my hair.

“I’m sorry about Eliza,” I said with a sniffle. “I’m sorry that’s a side of me, and I’m sorry it showed itself. I’m sorry I’ve never found a way to deal with it except to, you know, cut myself open.”

Camden watched me for a few moments, like we’d just peeled another layer from between us and he was seeing things raw again. “Ari, you’re making it hard for me to be angry with you.”

“Go ahead, be angry with me. Please. But forgive me a little, too, okay?”

He bit his lip and nodded quickly, then kissed me. I pulled him down onto the couch. Or he pushed me. Maybe both at the same time. Now we were lying next to each other with the blanket of night above us.

Camden turned onto his side. He propped his head up with his elbow and began to trace the skin of my collarbone along the top of my T-shirt, back and forth in delicate, devastating U’s. Then he ran his finger down the middle of my chest like he was marking an equator. The border between the half of me who wanted to believe we never had to leave this place, and the half of me who knew the world beyond it was not going to make being together easy.

His hand was under my shirt now, pressing a sweaty palm on my stomach. He took a deep breath and pushed it farther up, touching the center of my bra. I slapped my hand over his and met his eyes. Then I moved that hand to one of my breasts.

“We can do this, right?” I whispered.

Camden bit his lip and nodded, his focus intense. I let go of his hand so it could move on its own.

“Tell me when you want to stop,” I said.

He didn’t answer. He only touched me, and I felt like I could get swallowed whole in the quicksand of it. After a few moments he whispered, “What if I don’t want to stop? . . . And you don’t want me to stop?”

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