And I understood that only after Lindsey sent me my contract with Cam as well as Cam’s company’s policy. There’s nothing there that prevents us from being together, and since I’m pretty sure Cam knows that, I figured out that wasn’t the issue. Sure, it took me a few hours, but that’s normal for me.
So the only thing stopping Cam from being with me is something I can’t control, and something he won’t easily look past.
Which is why I need fucking air to breathe through this fear. I don’t want to have a shouting match that’s fueled only by my stupid insecurities, so stepping back is the only fair solution here.
I look up at the stars, something I’ve only ever really been able to do here, and try to get rid of that sensation of unease, that unrequitedness.
I don’t even know if that’s a fucking word, but isn’t it what they call it? Unrequited love?
That’s what it feels like, and again that loneliness I told Cam about when we were up at the water tower hugs me with a familiarity that’s almost as painful as the feeling itself.
I don’t ever want to feel like this again, and the cure is behind me, inside my childhood home, probably angry at how dramatic I’m being.
No, Cam’s never gotten angry with me for how I feel my feelings,I remind myself.
He knows me.
A sigh leaves me, again so dramatic, but what can you do?
I turn and go back in, ready to sweep all of this under the rug and pretend I didn’t just act like a butthurt, immature dick.
Cam is sitting on the couch, biting his thumb, and looks so fucking worried, something he never did when we were only client and agent, or even when we were friends.
I’ve seen him sad, really fucking sad, and I’ve seen him angry. I’ve seen him happy too, but never this helplessly worried.
“Sorry about that,” I tell him. “I just really needed to clear my head, you know?” I shrug like that’s gonna explain everything, and I guess it could because he nods. I should’ve known, no one knows me like Cam does.
“I’m sorry too,” he whispers, but he doesn’t turn away from the fireplace.
I stand there for a moment, feeling awkward and hesitating, which is something I never fucking do.
It goes straight against my nature, my job requirements, and honestly my values.
Hesitating is useless.
That reminder gets me moving.
I sit next to him, staring at the fireplace too, but I grab his hand, release his abused thumb from his mouth, andbring the back of his hand up to my lips, then rub it against my cheek and just hold him there.
I want to tell him I love him, more than anything, but I know it’s not the right moment, just like I know not to throw the ball to a double-covered receiver.
Instead I choose what my gut is telling me is the right thing to say. “You don’t have to be sorry. I know why you’re hesitating, I just wish I knew what you need me to do or say to trust that I’m in this for real. That I’m not playing here. I want you next to me always, Cam.”
That’s as close to a confession of love as I’ve ever gotten.
Something weird happens inside me then. I feel so less heavy, and finally I can turn to look at him.
I take his chin with two fingers and turn his head so he can look at me too.
“When you find out what you need to really trust us, you let me know, okay?”
His face scrunches up in a grimace before a soft smile takes it over.
I lean in for yet another kiss, but pull back before we can get carried away again.
“Will you sleep with me tonight?” I ask in a soft whisper. “Only sleep,” I hurry to add. “I just wanna hug you and fall asleep in your arms.”
That soft smile gives me all the hope I need.
