She pulls it away in one tiny, sudden movement.
“Seriously. What the hell, Vee?”
Her eyes are fixed in front of her, on the giant house we’re approaching. “Just don’t, Cam.”
“I don’t get it. You can’t cuddle on the beach with me every night and then ignore me all day.”
“Ignore you? I see you all day. And we don’t cuddle.” She says the last word like she’s appalled by it. As if I’ve accused her of pulling the wings off of butterflies.
Please. We cuddle the shit out of each other.“Oh, we don’t,” I say.
“No… we don’t.”
“I must be confused. Then I guess we can try out a few of our favorite‘not cuddling’ positions at the party and see what people think. Maybe do some spooning on the couch. That’s your favorite, right?”
“You’re disgusting,” she says.
“Andyou’rebeingridiculous!”
We attract some curious looks from a group of smokers by the garage as we approach the house. Vee falls a few steps behind. She grabs me by the wrist and pulls me into a small clearing of trees along the sidewalk, taking us out of sight.
“You don’t want this. If you did, you would have done something weeks ago.”
She’s panicking, talking herself out of this before it even starts. And I should be doing the same; I should be running.
“And we’re graduating in seven months,” she says.
“So?” I know exactly what she’s implying: seven months untilshe leaves. Seven months untilI’llleave. In seven months, she’ll be at Michigan State with Logan and Anders and I’ll be… I don’t even know. She sure as hell doesn’t. “I’m trying to hold your hand, Vee. I’m not asking you to marry me.” I kick at the leaves on the sidewalk, scraping them away with my shoe. “Though we’ve already talked about our wedding, so this whole ‘no holding my hand in public’ thing seems sort of ridiculous, don’t you think?”
She looks at me pointedly. “That was a joke.”
Obviously.“Is this about Logan? About what people will say?”
“I don’t care what people say—”
Yes, you totally do.
She looks down at her toe, stabbing it into the concrete next to mine. “But I do care what Logan says. What happens when we make… whatever this is… official? He’ll know I didn’t want a relationship withhim. I just don’t want to rub it in his face. Everything’s already weird, Cam.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “And the band knows what went down with Logan and me. They’ll think I’m a hussy for hooking up with you.”
“You’re overreacting. No one’s going to think you’re a… hussy.” I shake my head trying not to smile, but I can’t help it. “No one even says the word ‘hussy.’” Vee looks like she wants to smack me again. I wouldn’t mind her touching me.
“There’s this nurse who wears red lipstick and scrubs with black stilettos on them. Nonni callshera hussy.” She giggles nervously as she rests her forehead against my chest. Instinctively, my hands go to her back, holding her. She sighs, bumping her forehead against my chest again, like she wishes it was a wall and she could do some real damage.
“Who cares what other people think?”
“I care,” she finally admits, her breath hot against my chest. “Sometimes I care a lot.”
“Dakota doesn’t care.” I push a strand of hair behind her ear. “And I think Dakota’s pretty amazing.”
She sighs.
“We don’t owe anyone an explanation. Not even Logan. Our relationship is our business.”
She looks up at me. “We have a relationship?” Her face is covered in shadows from the nearby streetlight.
“We don’t have to label it, if you don’t want to,” I say.
She shakes her head. “I don’t.”
