If I'm Being Honest(82)

“Hey, Cameron.” I hear a voice over my shoulder.

I turn to find Elle, who’s outside the line, carrying her plate and watching me intently. It’s the first time she’s spoken to me in weeks, and honestly I’m too stunned to reply.

“I heard the Bright Partners decisions went out today,” Elle says. “Will you be joining Brad this summer?”

I find my voice. “Brad?” I repeat dumbly.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Elle asks innocently, obviously aware I didn’t. She’s cold and goading, and I know she’s still far from accepting my apology. “Brad applied for the internship a couple weeks ago, after your dad talked to him at the PTA meeting. He found out today he got the job.”

I fight for a breath I hope will calm me. I can’t think about this. I can’t think about what it means that Brad got the internship and I didn’t. I just need this conversation to be over. I know Elle wants to pretend to pity me, and I refuse to give her the chance.

I lie. “Yeah,” I say with forced enthusiasm. “I got it, too.”

“You did?” She sounds genuinely surprised.

Normally, I’d reply with snark or cynicism. I’d defend myself. But tonight, I don’t feel worth defending. I say nothing.

“Of course she did,” I hear Brendan say behind me, eager to have my back even though he doesn’t know what we’re talking about. I never told him about the internship. Surprised, I turn to face him. He’s fixed his eyes on Elle determinedly. “Cameron’s brilliant,” he says with tossed-off confidence. “Anyone would want her.”

Hearing Brendan vouch for me, calling me brilliant—impossibly, it hurts worse. Here’s this boy I’ve known for just months saying things my father wouldn’t in seventeen years. Things he’ll never say. Of course, Brendan might think otherwise if he knew the truth.

“Congrats,” Elle finally says, leaving Brendan and me in line. Morgan follows her.

I look up into Brendan’s unwavering eyes. “Thank you,” I say stiffly.

“Of course,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “What’s up with this internship, though?”

I put down the plate I didn’t realize I’d picked up and grab him by the elbow. “I’ll tell you later. I’m not hungry,” I say quickly, not bothering to explain myself to his confused expression. “Let’s dance instead.”

Brendan follows without a word or a pause. I lead him onto the dance floor, not allowing myself to look back. They’re playing an upbeat electronic song I don’t recognize, and our classmates are a frenetic huddle of hands in the air and hips swaying. I pull Brendan toward me, beginning to move with the music.

He joins me, bobbing up and down a little off the rhythm. He studies me, and I can’t ignore the concern in his eyes.

Then, without any provocation whatsoever, he busts out an extravagant twirl and waves his arms in the air. “Am I doing this right?” he asks. He grins hopefully and swings his hips in a wide, outrageous circle.

And I can’t help it. I feel the corners of my mouth twitch up for the first time this evening.

“Shake your hands more,” I venture, daring myself to join in his carefree exuberance. “Like this.” I throw my hands from side to side over my head, not minding that we’re drawing glances now.

It’s working, I can tell. I feel everything weighing me down begin to lift from me, letting me breathe.

“Of course,” Brendan says. “How could I have forgotten?” He tosses his hands up, imitating me. A laugh escapes me involuntarily, and I hardly recognize the sound. Relief flashes across his features.

I grab his hands, the excitement gaining momentum in me. It’s what I imagine the feeling would be like to lift off the ground in an airplane headed somewhere wonderful, weightless and anticipatory and exhilarating. We spin in a wide circle on the dance floor until I stumble over his feet and crash into him, loosening another laugh from my lips.

He catches me, righting me and holding me a little closer. “You’re a safety hazard.”

“Oh yeah?” I grin.

He grips me tighter. “I think I’d better hold on to you. You know, to protect innocent bystanders.”

I rest my head on his chest. “I think you’d better.”

In his arms, I’m finally here. With him. I feel like this dance, this room, this piece of the universe was reserved just for me. For me to feel wanted, and free, and okay. For a moment, the only things that matter are the way Brendan holds me and the way he gently kisses my forehead.



* * *





When we’re out of breath and our feet hurt, Brendan brings me out to the deck. I’m struck momentarily by the view. We’re farther out than I expected, the lights of the shore a glittering string of pearls in the distance. I can hardly discern where the sky ends and the inky roll of the water begins. The dazzling strings of lanterns on the deck warmly light the railing over the water.

I walk with Brendan to the edge and relax against the railing, my heart still pounding from the exertion. He collapses onto the railing next to me, half a laugh escaping him. I watch him, the night wind ruffling his curls, and find myself recognizing everything he is. How he came here tonight with me, how he made me laugh on the dance floor, how he defended me to Elle.