More Than Forever(17)

I examine the flyer again. It's hand drawn, like a comic strip. The general gist is that the buyer leaves as a superhero. 'Let your next purchase empower you' the headline says. "This is great," I tell him.

"It's pretty awesome, huh?"

"Who drew it?"

He's silent for so long I don't think he heard me. I finally pull my gaze away from the artwork and look up at him. He smirks before he answers, "Cam."

My eyes go wide. "Cameron did this?"

He nods, a sense of pride taking over him.

"He can draw?" My voice comes out louder than expected.

He chuckles. "Yeah, Lucy. He can draw. He's kind of amazing, right?"

I lift the flyer so I can inspect it closer. "Amazing is an understatement."

"I can't believe you didn't know," he muses, shaking his head. And then it dawns on me; all these days he's been at my house, all the hours I've spent with him, he never told me anything about him. It was always about me. He was always about me.

Mark must read my thoughts because he asks, "You don't know much about him do you?"

I shake my head, my mind still reeling from my realization. "Tell me about him?"

He laughs. "I'll tell you as much as I think he'll let me."

"Okay."

"Where do you want me to start?"

"How long have you known him?"

"Since he was six."

And that's how we spend the next few hours; with Mark telling me as much as he can about Cameron.

Cameron is an artist. He's an athlete. He's an unbelievably respectful son. Above all that, Cameron has a heart the size of the ocean. But he didn't need to tell me that part. If anyone knew the size of Cam's heart, it was me.

I get up and stretch my back when we're done. "You know you can enter those names and addresses into a spreadsheet and print directly onto the envelopes."

Mark's eyes go wide. "You're a liar."

His seriousness makes me smile.

When I get back to Cameron's room, he's sitting up in his bed with his phone in his hand. "Lucy," he sighs. "Where have you been? I thought you left." The panic in his voice creates an ache in my chest.

"I just needed aspirin. I'm sorry."

He sucks in a huge breath and lies back down, patting the spot next to him. "Come here."

I climb back into bed with him and rest my head on his chest, the same way I fell asleep earlier. His heart's racing, thudding hard against my ear. "I can feel your heartbeat."

"I know," he replies. "I got worried. I don't like not knowing if you're okay."





CHAPTER FIVE


-LUCY-

He's not in bed when I get up the next morning. I shower in his bathroom, dress for school and head downstairs. "He's in the garage," his mom tells me. "Lucy?"

"Yeah?"

"You're going to be staying with us for a few days... and I know that it's hard—what you're going through at the moment—but I can't let Cameron stay with you every night." She grimaces slightly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." I fail at my attempt to smile. "I'll try to be stronger."

She places a hand on my forearm as I try to walk past her and shakes her head slowly. "It's not about—" she cuts herself off with a sigh. "I just can't have teenagers sleeping in the same bed under my roof. You get that, right?"

Only now do I understand what she's saying. It never even occurred to me. Being with Cameron—in his bed—it's not physical, or sexual. "I understand," I tell her. "But you don't have to worry, it's not like that. Cameron—he's my strength. And right now, I don't know that I have any left."

***

"Hey," he drops the wrench onto the workbench and walks over to me. "Did you sleep alright?" I nod, feeling a little shy. He leans his face in closer, his lips already puckered. And my mind kicks into over drive. Mouth kiss? Cheek kiss? What is this kiss? I panic, duck my head and swiftly move around him.

Changing the subject to hide my embarrassment, I ask, "What are you doing in here?"

He turns to me with hurt clear in his eyes and my heart drops. I step forward and grab his hand—it's as much as I can offer right now.

Seconds pass while we stare down at our joined hands, then he squeezes it once, causing me to lift my gaze and look up at him. A perfect smile spreads on his face, and I've never wanted to kiss him more. So I do, I get up on my toes and I kiss him. It's quick, because I'm not sure that I'm ready for more. But when I pull away, I know that it's enough. Not just for me, but for him too.

"I was putting pegs on my bike," he says, his smile getting wider.

"Pegs?"

He leads me—with our hands still linked—over to his bike and sets his foot on a piece of round metal sticking out of the center of the back wheel. "Pegs; you stand on them while I ride, so you don't have to walk." He releases my hand, pulls my backpack off my shoulder, and hangs it off the handlebar. "I figure it's the best way we can get around for the next few days. Unless you feel like doing some grand theft auto and driving illegally again?" He jerks his head toward his mom's car.