Page 39 of Coincidentally Kismet

“Good, now are you going to tell me what you’re so afraid of with Will?” She looks at me with tears in her eyes. I guess it’s now or never.

“It’s complicated. I care about him a lot. I think I always will. But, as much as he was my person back then, he hurt me along the way too. He always got so much attention...I mean, look at him.” I stop for a second to gather my thoughts. “There were times that I could tell he was noticing other girls. I don’t think he would have ever acted on it, but when he dumped me it was so cold and calculated, like he knew he would have better optionsthan me where he was going.” Telling her this makes me feel a little guilty, since I don’t want her to hate Will.

Lo reaches out to hug me a little tighter. “Do you know for a fact he was doing that, or is that just the story your very hormonal teenage brain told you? Because from where I’m sitting, I don’t see a man who wants someone else.”

I smile at her. She might have a point there. “Well, maybe I was a tad hormonal at the time. But you don’t see a man who wants me now either.”

“Cam, when was the last time you really looked at him?”

“I look at him every time I see him. Since we are telling the truth, I might as well admit, it’s hard not to look.” I shift a little out of her embrace. This is becoming a long conversation for holding on to each other through.

“Tell me what you notice about him, aside from the physical stuff, because phew...I have eyes.” She shakes her arms out like she can feel his attractiveness. I get it. Boy, do I get it.

“Well, he’s funny and kind. He seems a little sad or tense, like there’s always something on his mind right out of reach that he doesn’t want anyone to know.” Walking over to the couch, I plop down, tucking one leg up under me.

“And what do we think that is?” she prompts me to spill, like I have the answer. I shrug because I really don’t know. Lo keeps going. “I’ll tell you, it’s fear. That man went through some bad things after he left you. I’m not going to give you details because it isn’t my story to tell, but there is a reason he’s afraid to be vulnerable. According to Jackson, it started with his dad and continued to pile on from there. Will loves you, it’s plain as day, but he’s scared to death.”

“What if I don’t want him to love me? What if I’m not good enough?” A tear drops down my cheek, and I wipe it away quickly.

“You are better than good enough. You are everything, I just wish you could see it. And as for what you want, well, only you can decide that, but I think you do want him to love you.”

“I don’t think I could ever trust him again. Without trust what do I have?” I shift anxiously on the couch, biting my fingernails and fighting tears.

“Will you ever know if you don’t try?” Lo approaches, sitting down next to me and wrapping me back into a hug. “Having insecurities isn’t foreign to anyone, everyone has them, even if it seems like they don’t. Relationships are never guaranteed to work out. Make me a deal, though. When you feel the worries coming on, tell me. I would never lie to you. Case in point, the new sweater you bought looks like it belongs to a grandma. Whatever you decide about Will, I’ve got you.”

“Two things. First, you have a deal, and second, how dare you slip a dig about my new grandma sweater in that beautiful speech.” I scoff at her while gently grabbing the bottle of tequila from where I stashed it behind a pillow, slipping it between us and making her laugh uncontrollably.

“So . . . you’re buying me off with booze?” she jokes.

“Sorta. Also, Daveed gave me an assignment, and I really need my best friend to come get drunk with me.” I give her puppy dog eyes for good measure.

“Sounds like my kind of assignment, what is it?”

“Well...I have to pick out an outfit that makes me feel sexy, get all dolled up, and then go hit the town.”

“Yes! I knew I liked him!” Lo shouts, releasing me from the hug, then standing and spinning around.

I don’t tell her about the other part of my assignment: sitting back and seeing how people react to me, instead of telling myself stories about how they see me. She would eat it up. But she’d also almost certainly spend the evening trying to point things out to me, and I need to observe everything unadulterated, formyself. Maybe I’ll share with her later, when I’m hosed on tequila. That’ll be entertaining!

She quickly tells me we have plans, already scheduled. In exactly forty-five minutes, I need to be ready to go to the beach, and I need to bring a change of clothes for whatever happens after. It’s almost like she knew I couldn’t stand her silent treatment any longer. She’s such a brat!

I scurry to my room, searching for a bathing suit that makes me feel good. Twenty minutes later, it looks like a wind storm swept through and tossed clothes around my room. There are bikini tops hanging from the ceiling fan and panties strung on the lampshade. The good news is, I selected a black sequin bikini. It’s got a standard triangle top, but the bottoms are cheekier than I would normally dare to wear. I’m looking for reactions, and this is the best bet for real, honest feedback since almost nothing is covered. Thank God I let Micah give me a Brazilian when it was slow at the salon on Thursday.

My beach bag is packed with the essentials: sunscreen, my favorite towel, the new Ray Riley book, and of course, my sunnies. In my overnight bag, I throw a bodycon red halter dress, my curling iron, a toothbrush, my makeup bag, some heels, and a lavender tank top. I have no idea what we’re doing later, so with my distressed jean shorts over my bathing suit and my favorite sandals, I’m pretty sure I have all the bases covered.

I spend a few minutes braiding the front of my hair into a headband braid, so it’ll stay out of my face in the heat, and give the rest of my hair beachy waves. I slick on some lightweight tinted sunscreen and peachy lip gloss, just because. I’m gathering the last of my things when Lo peeks her head in and says our ride is here.Wait? Who’s picking us up?

Lo hands me a travel cup, and by the smell of it, I’m one-hundred-percent sure it’s mostly tequila. I take a big swig...Ohboy! I think it’s all tequila. I attempt a muffled cough as she grins.

“You weren’t supposed to drink it until we added the mixer, ding dong,” she cheerily tells me.

Off to a great start!We head downstairs and sweep up to not one, but two Jeeps with their tops down, doors off. Excitement vibrates under my skin; I love convertibles! Sweeping my eyes over the vehicles, I notice there’s a spot for Lo in the first one, front seat since Smith is driving and Ruiz is already sprawled out in the back.

That’s when I hear it, a growly, almost unrecognizable, “Wright, you’re with us!” Is Will sick? It sounds like his tongue is stuck in his throat. I make eye contact with him, not that he can tell since I’m wearing my sunnies. Oh...he’s not sick. There’s heat in his eyes, and he looks possessive as fuck. I glance quickly around me and then it hits me—he’s looking atmelike that. My stomach does a backflip, but I don’t dawdle. I hop into the stunning black Jeep, deliberately shimmying a little extra to get comfortable while I greet Amy and Butler, before turning to him. “Hey, Rambo.”

Waves crash against the shore in a rhythmic and soothing beat, and white sand is buried between my toes. I’m relaxed, thrilled to be spending the afternoon at the beach with my friends. Having an actual group of people I can refer to as my friends is so refreshing. I’ve had people I can rely on, but feeling like I actually fit into a group for the first time since moving to this city is exhilarating.

The ride here was the most fun I have had in a while. Will and I bumped the music and sang like idiots at the top of ourlungs to some nineties throwbacks like LFO and my girl Britney. Will belting out all of the words to “Space Cowboy” by everyone’s favorite boy band though...epic!

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