I wasn’t sure what he was asking. I didn’t care. All I knew was that it meant we could keep touching each other, existing only in the moment of what happens now.
I answered by kissing him lightly, holding his bottom lip between my teeth. It must have tickled because he laughed. Maybe this was how people did it. With every moment of skin plus skin, you were pressing the reset button on your past experiences. You could close your eyes and pretend you were coming to this person with your hope for love still arranged in clean, unbroken lines.
I reached up with my left hand and started to slide it under the waistband of his shorts, then dared to check his expression. It was something halfway between wonder and fear, which was excellent because that was exactly what I felt, too.
It was impossible not to think about Lukas but it was okay, like the memory of him was there to help me understand myself. Lukas had guided my hand that night of his party. Grabbed it, desperately, and placed it where he wanted it. It was not where I wanted it but I couldn’t make my hand do anything differently. But here, with Camden, I was in charge of my own actions.
Camden sighed so hard he started coughing. Then we both cracked up.
“To hell with all of it,” he muttered, pressing his body into mine.
I wasn’t sure what it was but yeah, send it to hell. Let it stay there a good long time.
Because I understood, now, why this might be worth risking everything. I knew I had another person all to myself. That there was only one thing in the world we both wanted at that moment, and we were giving it to ourselves and each other.
We were kissing and moving to a kind of rhythm now. The beat of it got faster, more urgent. All it would take now was a few pieces of clothing not being where they were. Camden had his eyes closed, biting down hard on his bottom lip.
“Camden,” I whispered, wanting to make sure he was with me, that we were making this decision together.
He didn’t open his eyes. He just kept kissing me, gripping me tighter.
“Camden!” I said more loudly. “Stop! Look at me!”
His eyes popped open and it was like a spell had been broken. “What?” he said, his voice scratchy.
“Look at me, please.”
He did. And I knew.
“We can’t do this,” I said. “Not like this.”
Camden sighed and slowly pushed himself up, off, away from me. He knelt at my feet at the other end of the couch and I scrambled to sitting.
He clutched his chest. “You kill me.”
“Sorry.” God, that sounded so stupid. But what else could I say? “You stopped us the last time. We’re tied one-one.”
He huffed a half laugh, then fell serious again. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“This?”
“Be with someone, that is. Not sex. I could wing that part based on what I’ve seen and heard . . .”
“Right,” I said, holding up my hand for him to halt.
“The problem is, I have no examples to go by. How are we supposed to figure it out if we have nothing real to base it on?”
I shook my head. “No idea.”
I pulled my shirt down, and something in that made Camden look pained. Had I done the right thing, stopping him? Was I going to regret this?
“Please stay,” he said. “You can sleep in my mom’s room.”
I leaned forward and rested my forehead against his for a second. That was all I dared. Ninety-nine parts of me wanted to say yes and wrap my arms around him so hard they’d have to be pried away, eventually. But that one last, hundredth part. It had learned some things.
“It’ll be infinitely less awful for me if I go home now,” I said. “I’ll call Richard.”
Camden nodded, traced a circle on the back of my hand.
“I’m going to go into the house but I don’t want you to come with me,” I continued. “I want to think of you as being right here.”
He nodded again, closed his eyes.
I went inside and didn’t look back. I found my backpack, turned on my phone. There were no more new messages and that felt ominous.
I called Richard’s cell phone. He picked up instantly.
“Ari?” he asked.
“Hi.”
“Are you on your way home?”
“I’m actually at Camden’s. Can you come pick me up?”
He paused. “Yes, of course. I just need the address.”
It was the of course that got me. I found myself tearing up.
“I’m so sorry, Richard.”
“Save it for later,” he said, but kindly.
I went out onto the porch and waited for the next act to start.
20
Richard pulled into our driveway and put the car in park, but didn’t shut it off. We hadn’t said a word to each other since leaving the Barn. He turned to me now, and I got the sense he’d been so quiet on the drive because he’d been preparing for this moment.
“Ari,” he said, finally looking at me, and it was a damn good thing he hadn’t until now, because that was all it took for the tears.
“Richard . . . ,” I said, my voice shaking, with no idea of how I planned to finish that sentence.