He stares at me a moment, then shakes his head as if to clear it. "You'll be fine, Ror, I'm sure you'll be great. Don't worry about it. If it feels right, go with it, if it doesn't, then don't do it, okay?"
I stomp my foot like a four year old. "But you offered to teach me before! I didn't need it then. I need it now!" I argue.
Cam chuckles, and like always, the sound of his laugh banishes all of my tension. "We were thirteen! It's different now. I can't just kiss you, Ror!"
"Of course you can," I whisper, and take a step forward.
He sucks in a sharp breath. He's conflicted, but I don't understand why.What's the big deal?
Cam retreats a step back and turns from me. I can't help but feel rejected, even though I know it's irrational.
"Cam?"
He faces me and takes my hand, sits on the edge of my bed, and pulls me so that I'm seated beside him. "Ror, I ain't gonna kiss you, okay? You know I'd do anything for you. Like you said, I love you. But your first kiss should be with someone you likethatway, not your best friend."
"Ugh. Whatever. Thanks a lot, Cam."
He smiles wryly. "Anyway, it was one thing back when we were kids, before you got all hot and shit. You think I can kiss you sittin' here in your bedroom, with you wearin' that sexy little dress, and not get a-"
"Cameron Foster!" I stop him before he describes his theoretical erection, and we both crack up laughing.
There was never anything strange or awkward about our friendship growing up, except when he first hit puberty and had little control over when he sported wood. For a good year, it was the source of endless teasing from my end, and now he's using it against me.Fair enough.
The doorbell rings and I jump up and look back at him for reassurance. "I look okay?"
He stands and takes my hand, rubbing soothing little circles into the back of it with his thumb. He always does this when I'm worrying about something. "You look beautiful, Rory girl. Too beautiful. You call me if you need me. I'll come get you. I mean it," he assures me.
"I know, Cam, thanks."
Cam nods toward my door, his expression telling me to stop stalling and to get going if I'm going to go. So I do, with him right on my heels.
****
Robin is standing in the front hall, talking to my dad about next week's football game. My dad gives me a kiss on the cheek and tells me to have a good time before excusing himself. I try to convince myself that the first ounce of affection my father has offered me in a year was not for Robin's benefit. Cam is still standing behind me on the bottom step and I shoot him a "get lost" look, but he just gives me one right back that tells me he isn't going anywhere. I turn back to Robin as he produces a bouquet of white roses, clearly the dozen from which the windshield rose came this afternoon. Heat rises to my cheeks as I quietly thank him. He greets Cam kind of coldly considering they're teammates and sort of friends, and Cam's response is equally icy.
"Remember what we talked about, Forbes," Cam murmurs, before giving me a kiss on the cheek and heading back toward the kitchen. To an outsider it would appear as if he was going to hang out in my house, but I know he's just taking the back door out to go back home. Our back doors are closer to one another than our front doors, and they're what we've always used since we were kids. I excuse myself briefly to put the flowers in water then rejoin Robin in the foyer.
He leads me out to his car and opens the passenger door for me, and pulls out of the driveway, heading toward town.
"You look real pretty, Rory," he says with a grin. "I like the dress."
I blush profusely and politely thank him.
"I made reservations at the club, if that's okay?"
"Sure," I reply. The country club. Wow. Our parents are all members, sure, but high school students having dinner there is kind of a big deal. I'd have heard about it if he'd brought dates there before. It occurs to me that he's actually trying to impress me, and I can't help but smile to myself.
"What's that pretty little smile for?" he asks, and I chew my bottom lip to force it away.
"Nothin'. I just didn't realize you took dates to the club for dinner is all," I admit.
Now it's his turn to smile. "I don't, sweetheart. But you're not just some date, are you?" I search for the jest in his tone, but he sounds so sincere.
"I'm not?"
"'Course you're not." He doesn't elaborate, and I don't ask him to.
Robin pulls into the club's circular drive and waves off the valet who comes to open my door in order to do it himself. He places his hand in the small of my back to lead me inside, and I'm surprised by the way it makes me feel. I'm still nervous, but I feel special, like I matter. And the feeling is new to me. I like it.
