Maddie

The ride to wherever it is we're going to is pure and utter hell. I'm drumming my fingertips on my knee to the tune of Mr. Brightside that's blaring softly through Cam's fancy car stereo. The leather of the seat feels so uncomfortable against my skin from how much I'm sweating. I'm trying desperately to get his intoxicating cologne out of my nose, but I can't. He smells way too damn good.

Why is it that I can't be within two feet of him without all of these sexual thoughts coming to mind? I remind myself of the way Cam used to be. Completely and utterly obsessed with nothing but sex.

"I like your hair by the way," he says. "Not that I didn't like it brown, but your blonde curls always get to me."

Letting out a loud breath, I turn to face him, inwardly groaning when I do. He's got one hand on the steering wheel, his forearm flexing as he grips it. His hands are big, the veins clearly noticeable as he turns the wheel to go onto another street.

"Thank you," I can hardly choke out. My heart feels like it's going a mile a minute.

"Are you okay?" He asks. I should know by now that he knows me better than anyone. He can probably read right through me. "I'm sorry if the comment made you uncomfortable."

I need to get a grip. He wants to have a fun time with me tonight, and I want to as well. I can't let my stupid hormones get in the way.

"It didn't. Sorry. I guess I'm just a little nervous. It's been a while since we've done something together like this."

He leans over to turn up the heat, and then he rests his hand right on my knee. I bite down on my lip, praying that we get there as soon as possible to wherever the hell it is we're going. Otherwise, I'm going to ask him to pull over this damn car.

"Nothing has changed for me." He chuckles and squeezes my knee. "That's what I like the most about us. All of this time can pass, but when we're together we pick right back up where we left off."

I'm trying to think of something to respond to that when he slows down the car and glances out of my window at the restaurant signs we pass by. We're in downtown Phoenix, which is close to his apartment I think. He said he's staying near the college campus.

"Okay, we're here," he says and swiftly parallel parks the SUV. "Does it look familiar?"

It's completely dark out now, so I can't really see anything other than the fact that the sign on the building says Clifton's Tacos. I've never been here before.

"Uh..." I trail off, completely confused. "Not really? Is it supposed to?"

Cam laughs. "Come on. Let's go."

He comes around to open the door for me, and there goes that damn scent again. He smells minty and fresh. It's delightful.

I appreciate his outfit as he leads the way to the door of the building. He makes a plain v-neck white t-shirt look like it should be in fashion week, and those shorts make his legs look...wait.

Reaching out to grip his arm to turn him around, my eyes widen when I point to the back of his calf. There's a huge cross tattoo staring back at me. "You got a tattoo?" I ask in disbelief. "Since when? How am I just now noticing this? We slept together for crying out loud!"

"In the dark," he states. "You probably just didn't see it. I mean, we weren't really in any positions where you could have seen it. I was the one giving you-"

"Okay," I emphasize, desperately trying to block out the memory of the intense orgasm he gave me that night. "Point made, but still. I can't believe it."

He twists his calf towards him to analyze it before he asks, "You like it? I got it done last year."

I love it. I'm obsessed with it. Cam with tattoos is just...damn.

"Yes." That is all I can say, and before he can touch further on the subject I open up the door, inhaling the scent of Mexican food. My stomach rumbles in response.

It's kind of like Chipotle where you go up to a buffet line and order. I stand back to look at the menu to try and decide what I want, utterly perplexed as to why he asked if I remembered this place.

There are not many people here, but normally places like these don't start getting packed until around midnight when all the drunk kids get hungry. It still seems like a cool place though. Spanish music is playing loudly, placing an unsettling romantic vibe over both of us.

Cameron orders a burrito and I order two chicken tacos. He leads the way to a table that sits in a little nook with a view of the street outside. Since it's a Friday night there are multiple groups of drunk college students finding their way to the first bar on their list most likely.

"You really don't remember it?" Cam asks, and again, I'm confused until he starts to laugh. "Okay," he starts, leaning forward to put his elbows on the table. "Picture this: It's summer, Ethan and I are in eighth grade, and you're in seventh. It's so damn hot outside that we begged and pleaded with your mom to take us to get ice cream, and-"

"Oh my god!" I gasp, erupting in laughter when the memory comes to mind. "Was this the old ice cream parlor? When you-"

"Laughed so hard that the slushie came out of my nose?" He arches a brow, and my heart flutters. "Indeed it is. It's also the place you said you thought I was attractive for the first time, right?"

I nod. This was the sweetest place to bring me to. It's not an ice cream parlor anymore, but my feelings haven't changed a bit. If I were to go back and tell my seventh-grade-year-old self that we'd be back here alone on a date with a whole baby together I never would have believed it.

"Cameron Holden..." I let out a tiny sigh and take a bite of my taco. "You make it extremely hard to take things slow."

"Do I?" He cocks his head to the side, holding his gaze on me. "Is my plan working?"

"Cam." I smile softly, and he gets the hint and clears his throat.

"Sorry," he says. "Habit. Let me change the subject." Leaning back into his chair, his body is so long that he looks uncomfortable. "Tell me about your internship."

"At the clinic?"

He nods.

"Um..." I take a sip of my drink, contemplating whether or not to tell him about the study abroad program. We both said we're having open communication now though, and hiding this from him will only cause problems down the road. "It's going really well," I decide to say. "Uh, my boss thinks I'm a good fit for this study abroad program, but I don't think I'm going to go."

"Because?"

I look at him like it's more than obvious. "Um, Isabelle? I would need to have full-time daycare for her if I go, and I definitely can't afford that. I couldn't even afford the program by itself."

"But if you had the money, would you go?"

I contemplate his question, choosing my words wisely. "If I'm being honest, yes. I could have such an incredible learning experience. I'd be immersed in different cultures, and-" I pause as I watch him staring intently at me. "Are you mad?" I ask.

He furrows his eyebrows together in confusion. "Mad? Why would I be mad?"

"Because-" I stop myself again, fighting the urge to say what it is I'm actually feeling. It's not fair of me to say that I wish he would ask me to stay. We aren't together.

But I keep reminding myself that I need to be honest with him or this is never going to work. We have to do things differently because they clearly weren't working before.

"You would be okay if we went away for a year?" I gulp, suddenly feeling my throat go dry.

Cam finally realizes what it is I'm asking, smiling softly as he reaches across the table to grab onto my hand. "Of course, it would make me sad if you went," he reassures me, "but this is your dream, Maddie. I would never be mad at you for chasing after that. I mean, it's my off-season, but when it starts back up again I'll be traveling all the time too. It wouldn't be fair for me to get mad at you when I'll be doing the same thing."

I almost forget that he'll be gone all the time come the end of August. It makes my stomach twist up in such an unsettling way that I find myself not becoming hungry anymore for tacos.

"Well, I'm not going," I tell him. "It's just a dream. That's all."

His stare lingers on mine far more than he intended for it to, but eventually, we just go back to eating our food, stealing the occasional glance at each other every minute or so.

It's not until a group of college girls come inside already trashed that we both focus on something else other than each other. One of the girls stumbles, her friend erupting into giggles as she tries to hold her up.

All three of them are wearing sequin dresses that hardly cover their asses, makeup applied so heavily that it looks caked onto their tan skin.

"Wait!" The girl grips her friend's arm, pointing directly at Cameron. "Oh my god, Emily! That's Cameron Holden."

Both of her friends look in our direction, clearly not believing her.

"Hannah you are so wasted," the girl I'm assuming to be Emily tells her. "Why the hell would he be in Phoenix at a worn-down taco place? Get real."

"It's you, isn't it!" Hannah stumbles over to our table, clutching onto it for dear life to hold herself up. "I know it's you."

Cam nods and Hannah shrieks with glee, turning back to her friends. "See?" She says. "I told you!" Then she goes over to the girl at the register. "Can I have a sharpie please?"

I'm watching the scene unfold in front of me feeling uncomfortable as hell. I don't like how possessive I'm feeling over him. I'm angry, and I don't like that. I'm not used to this.

"Can I have an autograph?" She smiles sweetly.

"Uh, sure." Cam grabs the sharpie, and we both gasp when she takes her breast right out of her dress.

"You can address it to your future wife." She giggles and leans closer to him. I can feel the blood boil underneath my skin. I'm going to kill this random girl.

Cam glances up at her with the sharpie in hand, a tiny grin on his face. "Sweetheart, I appreciate that you're a fan, but I'm not signing your breast. How about an arm?"

Hannah huffs but gives in and fastens her dress back into place. He quickly signs, desperate to get her to leave, but she leans over the table again to get close to his ear. "I could show you a very good time," she whispers seductively. "You're even hotter in person."

I'm about to get up to leave, but Cam stands up instead and extends his hand out to me to pull me up beside him. "If you'll excuse me I'm actually on a date. Have a nice night."

A date.

Did he just say a date?

Dragging me outside, he lets out a large breath, quickly spinning around to face me. "I'm so sorry about that," he blurts out. "Normally my fans aren't that...er..." He scratches the back of his head. "Blunt."

I cross my arms over my chest and stare down at the pavement. This fame thing is weird, and I'm not so sure that I'm equipped to handle it.

"Are you mad?" He asks.

"Not at you. I'm mad at that stupid bitch who thought it was okay to pull out her tit in front of you, but it's fine. I'll get over it."

Are all of his fans like this? Do they strip every time they notice him? I want to go right back in there and rip those fucking extensions out of her head.

I'm the only one that has his heart. I'm the only one that's going to. All of these girls can dream all they want about getting into bed with him and marrying him, but that girl is going to be me if it's the last thing I do.

"Let me take you home," he says and opens up the passenger side door of his car for me. "I'm sorry, again."

We spend the next ten minutes of the car ride in silence. My anger is still brewing at that girl, but I think I'm even angrier with myself at this point. Here I am sitting next to this fine-ass man that girls are practically throwing themselves at, and I'm choosing not to hook up with him?

Isabelle is so important, and she will always be my first priority, but I can't deny the fact that these sexual feelings for Cam are so intense. More than I know what to do with. And I'm tired of hiding it. Especially since he's got more options than he knows what to do with. I need to remind him that I'm the only one for him. No one else.

"Pull over," I say abruptly.

He looks at me questionably. "What?" He asks. "Why?"

"Pull over," I repeat, glancing down a random street that looks quiet enough. "Hurry up. Before I change my mind."