Love Songs & Other Lies(27)
CAM
As we drive down the dark streets of Riverton, the music of Carnivale is still in my ears. Everything around us seems unbearably loud in its quietness. The click of seat belts, the ding of the blinker, the gentle swish of breath past lips—it all feels like it’s being projected through a megaphone, filling my car with deafening sound.
Pulling into her driveway, I finally break the silence. “I’m sorry. If you really hated the outfit, I mean.” Her seat belt clicks open, scraping the metallic sequins of her top as it wraps around her. I’m trying not to smile, to show even an ounce of remorse, but I’m not sorry at all. “I swear I thought you’d like it.” She sits still, our breathing once again the only sound that fills the quiet space. Pulling her lip between her teeth, she swivels toward me, one leg folding under the other until she’s facing me.
“I didn’t hate it.” She starts picking at the sequins of her shirt, pressing each one flat. She rolls her eyes and the tiniest smile plays on her lips. “The outfit’s actually pretty amazing.” She looks down at herself, letting out a rush of air that is somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “I just had to get used to it.” The shy smile spreads across her face and I swear she must be able to hear my heart pounding right now. “Vee felt a little out of place, but Dakota likes it. She really does.”
“Okay then.”
“Okay then.” She’s smiling as she steps out of the car. “Goodnight, Cam.”
“Goodnight, Vee.”
Vee turns to face me in the dark. “You looked perfect too, you know.” I look down at my new jeans and simple black T-shirt as she shuts the door and walks away.
A block from Vee’s house, I stop at the gas station to fill my tank. Swiping my card, a glint of silver catches my eye. Out on the sidewalk, like a disco ball rolling under the street lamps, is Vee. She’s striding down the pavement, a little black sweater draped over her shoulders, her heels swapped for a pair of purple shoes. And I know exactly where she’s headed so late.
*
I drop my body down onto the ground next to her and her shoulders flinch for just a second. Leaning back on my hands in the cool sand, I’m glad it’s only me surprising her. “Starting a new beachwear trend?” I can’t help but grin, seeing the sand sticking to her leather leggings. “I like what you’ve done with the outfit. I think it’s even better than before.” I bump my foot against her shoe.
“Stalk much?” Her voice is nothing but sarcasm and tease as her eyes remain fixed on the water in front of us. She’s right, I probably shouldn’t have come. But then I couldn’t get the thought of her alone at the beach out of my head. There’s no staff here at night, but who knows who is here at night. I sat in the parking lot for fifteen minutes but I just couldn’t fight the pull.
“Only on Fridays.” I try to keep my face serious as I say it, but I can’t help but smile as I catch hers out of the corner of my eye. “Sorry.” She gives me a look that says she knows I’m not. “I saw you walking and didn’t like the idea of you down here by yourself this late. I can hang out in my car and just give you a ride home when you’re done, if you want to be alone.” But please don’t ask me to do that.
“You really are like a personal taxi service, huh? Rides in the morning, rides at night. You’re going to spoil me and give me inflated expectations of your awesomeness, Cam Fuller.”
“In that case.” I push myself up in the sand, wiping my hands together dramatically and rising to my feet. “The last thing I want is you thinking I’m going to be awesome 24/7. Good luck with the serial killers.” I dust sand off my pants, stopping when I feel a hand on mine.
She tugs it once, before dropping it. “Shut up and sit down.”
“It’s nice out here. Quie—”
She cuts me off with a soft “shhhh” that sounds like a sigh. We’re sitting just a few feet from the water, far from the lights of the boardwalk. If the wind really picked up, the surf would reach up and grab us. Vee lies back on the sand again, her arms at her sides, and I copy her. Our bodies are just inches apart. The sound of bongos and acoustic guitar drifts down from the dunes; the only noise as we lie in complete silence. It’s easy to understand why she loves it here. Staring up at the dark, inky sky, the light breeze sends goose bumps across my skin. The gentle sound of the waves and the drums fills my ears. Eventually, the music stops and I suspect that what had felt like minutes has actually been hours. Time seems to pass more quickly with Vee, like at a concert or on vacation.
“Tomorrow? Same place, same time?” she asks, when I finally drop her in front of her house just after 2 A.M.
I just nod, watching as she slams the car door and walks away.
CHAPTER NINE
NOW
CAM
Aside from the superfans that have started showing up city after city, every week we see a new group of fans at each venue. Where normal shows are about entertaining—and that means playing the same tried-and-true fan favorites over and over, and plenty of covers—when you’re playing for a television audience week after week, you’re always playing new sets. But it turns out, if you replace your singer six months before you end up on a reality TV show, you can forget using any songs he wrote. Logan got the call yesterday—their jerk of a former singer swearing he’d see us all in court if we played any of the songs he helped Logan write. We’re not risking it. If we don’t do something, we’ll run out of songs eventually.