Page 40 of Missing Linc
When he messaged me to change the plan, I panicked. I thought he was turning me down via text because he was unwilling to do it face to face. He had been quiet all week since we slept together, and even though Lenka had noticed, she didn’t probe. Which is so unlike her.
“Well, I wanted to make sure I covered all bases. It’s going to be a long night,” I tell him, and he asks for a lemonade.
“Oh, you don’t have to stay with me the whole night. It’s gonna be so boring for you,” he says.
“Not possible. How could it be boring if I’m with you?”
He rolls his eyes, but I can also see the pink on his cheeks, so I know it’s all for show.
Yes, I’ve turned on the charm-o-meter to one thousand, but after the way things went south last week, what else could I do?
He thinks because I got out of a long term relationship, I’m not serious. He thinks he’s only a rebound or an experiment.
And I’d had all week to ponder over these answers. I dug as deep as I could because I didn’t want to hurt Cam’s feelings or to lead him on with lies.
I know he’s not an experiment because the moment I was with him it felt right. Kissing him, fucking him, spending time with him. It was easy. It was as natural as breathing.
Which only reinforced the idea that he’s not just a rebound.
Yes, I had been with Makayla for seven years. Yes, we were engaged to be married—although all the wedding plans had been put on hold for a few years now, anyway—but that doesn’t mean that Cam isn’t a person in his own right that I want to spend more time with.
So in a way, he’s my rebound to happiness.
“I also brought condoms,” I say, taking out a pack from the cool bag.
Cam bursts in laughter and looks at the pack with half an eye.
“And you put them in the ice to give them more sensation for later?” he asks, still cackling.
“Well, no. I just didn’t want to carry too many bags.”
“That’s sweet, but it’s going to be a crazy busy night tonight, and I very much doubt we’ll have time for any… of that,” he says, waving a hand in front of the condoms.
“Well, we’ll see about that,” I reply and put the condoms in his glove compartment. “Anyway, how’s your week been? Why is your sister moving out?”
“Because she’s a bitch. And I donotwant to talk about that,” he replies, and I nod in understanding.
We get to the pizza place, and Cam goes to clock in and pick up his first order. When he’s back, he puts two huge bags of family size pizzas on the backseat, and we jet off for the first of three stops.
He’s quiet. And I want to ease any tension or nerves, but I’m not sure how.
The radio is on a channel with two chatty hosts, and it makes the silence between us all the more dizzying.
“Do you mind if I change it?” I ask him, pointing at the radio, and he shakes his head.
I get my phone out and connect it to the bluetooth, then put on some chill, romantic music on Spotify.
“There, that’s better,” I say.
“Okay, so she’s decided to move to Massachusetts and leave me hereallalone, and I want to be mad and angry and pissed off, but I know she’s doing it because she’s lost,” he says all in one breath as if he’s been holding it in for hours. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to unload.”
“Hey,” I tell him. “That’s what I’m here for. Unload away.”
I settle a hand on his leg and give it a reassuring squeeze, but I don’t move it away. He notices because he keeps glancing at it.
But he’s also desperate to talk about it, so he does.
“She’s just always been flaky. She’s never had a thing, you know, so she kept jumping from one job to the other. I think the only decent, consistent thing she’s done is be there for me when I needed her and when she moved us out of our family home,” he says.
