Page 15 of Missing Linc
I walk to the middle of the room and watch Cam approach me with small hesitant steps, his eyes pinned to the floor at my feet and his lips pursed.
“Hey,” I tell him when he comes to stand next to me.
He looks at Lenka ahead of us and mumbles a hi under his breath.
“Right, one of you turn your back to your partner. Open your arms to your sides and fall back. Your partner will catch you. And you have to trust that they will,” she says.
Cam glances briefly at me and bites his lip.
“I can catch first if you want,” I tell him.
He grimaces before he nods, and I really want to tell him it’s okay. That nothing happened. That the kiss was nothing serious. But I can’t. Not now. Not with his back turned to me.
His shoulders open up as he takes a deep breath, and he falls back.
And into my arms.
His head is right under my chin, and his hair smells delicious. Like… like bubblegum and hair salon. It’s hard not to get distracted by it.
He stands up and turns to face me.
“Your turn,” he says quietly. Too quietly.
I don’t like it. I want the Cam from last night. Loud, confident, and fun. Not this version of him.
I turn and fall into his arms. But he stumbles backwards, and we fall on the floor.
“Ouch,” I let out before I think twice about it.
My back aches, but Cam’s body is glued under mine and I can’t say I don’t like the position.
“Shit. I’m sorry. I’m—” he starts.
“It’s okay,” I say, rolling off of him and back into my feet. Then I turn back to Cam and offer him my hand. “I’m bigger and heavier than you. These things tend to happen.”
He nods and gives me an awkward smile.
Did I say something I shouldn’t have? Oh God. When did I forget how to be human around other people?
“Let’s try again,” I say. “It’s probably my fault. I didn’t make my body lighter.”
I’m hoping telling him that, a dance thing that we use often in theater, will get him to crack a genuine smile, but he doesn’t.
So I fall into his arms again, and this time, he doesn’t stumble.
“Are you okay?” I say when I’m standing up again.
He nods.
“Are you sure?”
He looks behind me, then to his feet.
“I’m… I’m so sorry about last night. I… I don’t know what came over me. I swear. It’s never going to happen again.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “We both had too much to drink. Don’t worry about it.”
“Of course I worry about it,” he whisper-shouts while everyone around us continues their exercise. “You’re my director. You’re a teacher at my college. And you’re straight. I was so out of line.”
