Just For You (7 page)

Cameron grimaced but didn't say a word.

"You also have absolutely no idea how to be nice to anyone. Or respectful."

"Believe it or not, Imogen, you're not the first person to bring this to my attention."

"Why am I not surprised? Don't you think that's rather a bad thing?"

Cameron shrugged and raised his eyebrow. He was being so complacent, so nonchalant. It was enough to drive Imogen out of her mind. She couldn't fathom why anyone would want to live that way, or to be seen by others as little more than a selfish ass. There had to be a reason for it. No one was this misanthropic for the hell of it.

"Why does it have to be a bad thing, Imogen? I like my privacy. I like being alone. I have a few…"

Imogen raised her eyebrow.

"Okay, I have one very good friend." He motioned to Todd, still in the kitchen. Todd smiled, ear-to-ear. "I'm not alone. I'm not sad."

"Are you telling the truth?"

"I said I never lie."

"Fine." Imogen adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder and raised her chin. "If that's really how you want it then I will leave you alone."

"Is that a promise?"

Imogen's eyes darkened and the wind was taken out of her. She didn't speak for fear of her voice cracking, but instead blinked and turned, making sure to shut the door quietly behind her.

Cameron watched as she left and emitted a sigh once the door was shut. He caught Todd's eye and was troubled by the look he saw there. It was disapproving and judgmental. All Cameron could do was swallow the bile that suddenly rose in his throat.

"That was harsh, man."

"Shut up."

Todd held his hands up. "Look, I'm just saying---"

"Well, don't! If I didn't say it she'd have stuck around until the end of time and you know how that thrills me."

Todd came around the counter in the kitchen, taking a seat on the couch next to Cameron.

"Who is this girl, anyhow? She's kinda pretty."

Cameron let his head fall back onto the top of the couch. He slapped an open palm over his face. "Please, for the love of God, just this once can you do me a favor and not let your baser instincts rule your actions."

Todd made a face and pushed the hair from his eyes. "Who I do and do not sleep with has to do with you because…?"

Cameron looked his friend in the eye. "Because," he yelled, "if you get together with her I'll never be rid of her. You're my one friend in the entire world and I've just finally got it into her head that I don't want her hanging around here like some sick little puppy. By the way, I do dislike puppies. They're too damn needy."

Todd shook his head and chuckled. "Wow, you really are ridiculous. Lucky me, I'm the only person in the entire world who gets to put up with you."

"That's where you're wrong. My family has to put up with me."

"You never talk to them."

Cameron pursed his lips and placed his hand over his mouth. "Touche."

"So we go back to the beginning. I'm the one with the lovely job of putting up with you. Sometimes I feel like I could use a little help with it, you know. It's pretty tough at times."

"Shut up."

"No, seriously, man. Tell me the story. How did you two meet?"

"It's a long story."

"I'm sure it's not."

"Look," Cameron sighed. "I don't want to talk about it. I just… she's a nuisance, alright? I mean, you met her yourself. Wasn't it pretty clear?"

Todd pursed his lips. "Well, I'm pretty sure the… what's her name again? It was pretty but odd."

Cameron rolled his eyes. "Imogen." The word left fire on his tongue.

"That's it!" Todd snapped his fingers. "The Imogen I met was well mannered, sweet, and a lot nicer to you than you deserve."

Great. Another person telling Cameron what a horrible, terrible, appalling human being he was. It just wasn't a complete day without someone reminding him that society at large generally disagreed with Cameron's reclusive existence.

Todd watched his friend's face for any slight changes that might indicate that he was, in fact, a human being. So far there was nothing.

"You're mean, Cameron, but you're not cruel."

At this he got an eyebrow twitch.

There was no more reason for words. The two sat and stared at the advertisement on the television screen. Their eyes glazed over and they were pulled into their own thoughts: one pondering just how bad his luck actually was and the other how his jackass of friend could have nabbed such a pretty little thing.

The ticking of the clock mirrored the rhythm of their breathing and finally Todd took a deep breath and turned to Cameron, his eyes wide.

"Maybe we should go find her."

* * * *

Imogen decided to go to the park and get her ice cream anyway. No need to have her entire day ruined. She couldn't help but think of Cameron; every picture in her mind, every little thought… it all ran back to him.

"
Fine. If that's really how you want it then I will leave you alone."

"
Is that a promise?"

Is that a promise? Is that a promise?

Is that a promise?

"Miss?"

Imogen practically jumped out of her own skin when the man behind her placed his arm on her shoulder to get her attention. She turned toward him, a little shaken, pushing a few loose strands of hair behind her ears.

"It's your turn." The stranger motioned toward the ice cream vendor where a teenager, looking slightly overheated and fairly bored, tapped his fingernails against the open lid of the cooler.

Imogen could feel the child of the stranger judging her with his deep child's eyes that saw into her soul. She stammered her thanks and ordered.

More than once she had to be told what she owed. She gave the cashier $2.35 instead of $3.68 the first time. It took her a few minutes to dig the remaining dollar and thirty three cents from her wallet. She could only give an apologetic smile as the teenager handed over to her a large cone with ice cream already dripping from the sides.

The park was crowded, being early on a Saturday evening. There was one open bench next to the small man-made pond in the middle of the grass and she sat, her skirt billowing in the wind at her knees and her hair flying around her cheeks and into her mouth as the cool breeze picked up.

Dogs chased Frisbees and she could hear the crack of a baseball behind her. She twitched. She knew the game was far from her but she had always been terrified of being smacked in the head with a baseball.

Soon she realized that, sitting all alone, she didn't have much to do. She wasn't come just from the office, like she noticed some workaholics were, sitting on the other benches around her, dressed office-casual in nice jeans and black blazers, with piles and piles of office work on their laps. She wasn't here with her nieces or nephews or sisters or cousins or children, like others were. Imogen didn't even have a pet she could take to come play and join in all the fun.

Imogen shoved the last of her ice cream cone into her mouth and chewed, her eyes roaming around the bright green landscape. The sun was almost on the horizon, coloring the sky a myriad of blues, pinks, oranges, purples and yellows. It looked like the summer sunsets she used to know back home in Louisiana.

A group of teenagers crossed the pathway in front of her, laughing at something one of the boys said. He was tall and good-looking, slender at the waist and broad at the shoulders. He had a strong jaw and hair that sat
just so
over his forehead. All the girls in the group considered themselves in love with him, it was clear.

He reminded Imogen of the first boy she ever went out on a date with. They looked the same: same square jaw; same clear, tan skin; same tall stature; same beautiful hair; same self-assurance that drew girls in like ants to sugar. She smiled to herself. Yes. He picked her up in a blue Mustang and she went weak in the knees. All night he blinded her with his smile and she remembered the distinct out-of-body feeling she experienced when, at the end of the night, he drew her close, gently, tenderly, locked his eyes with hers, and leaned in to press their soft mouths together.

That was the start of a whirlwind summer romance and Imogen looked back on it with fond memories. At sixteen, he was the best thing that ever happened to her and she liked to think that she was the same for him. It was over once school started again, but they parted mutually; she never harbored any malicious feelings or ill will toward him. His name was Jack Hannigan and the last she'd heard he'd moved to New York and started working at a big-time ad agency.

She hadn't thought of him in a while but now that he popped into her mind she smiled to herself and said a happy "hello" to him.

Old feelings flared up. She remembered how safe it felt to be in his strong arms, to hear his voice whispering in her ear after a hard day, to feel his lips press into her temples and cheeks. To be sure she'd been in other relationships since Jack- after all, it had been ten or so years since he and Imogen were even an item- but he was special because he was her first many things: her first date, her first kiss, her first real relationship…

And he was so different from Cameron. But what did that matter? she asked herself. She didn't feel
that
way about Cameron. No. What she felt for him was very different than anything she'd ever felt for Jack or the other men she'd dated after Jack.

For whatever reason, she did like Cameron; he had his moments. He obviously wasn't all bad. For one, he helped her even though he injured her. He might not have liked doing it, but he did it anyway. After that he also agreed to have lunch with her, even if she did have to admit to herself that she partially guilted him into it.

Now he found her totally and completely annoying. Imogen couldn't figure out where she'd gone wrong. That wasn't her intention. She just saw something in Cameron that was similar to herself, as ridiculous as it sounded, considering the vast difference in their personalities.

It was her honest belief that they needed something each of them was in the position to provide the other: friendship. Contact. Platonic companionship. Company.

No matter how much he protested against her she knew that deep down- deep, deep, deep, deep down- Cameron knew this, too. She couldn't figure out why he wouldn't let go of whatever was holding him back, but it frustrated her. All she wanted was to get him to smile at something, to stop and smell the roses, to use a cliché, to laugh genuinely and fearlessly. She wanted him to let go without looking back.

But she wasn't a miracle worker. Imogen wasn't about to try to force him into anything. If he was an unwilling participant, then she would have to accept that and try to get along with her own life and forget the first person she'd ever properly, if in a bit of an unorthodox manner, met in Chicago. There was no use leading a horse to water and trying to force it to drink, she reasoned.

Maybe she was the one having trouble letting go. Perhaps she was blindly latching on to something that would never work because it was the first thing she knew in a city she'd never been to before at the beginning of her new start in life. Maybe she was so attached to Cameron because she was scared and because she wanted Cameron to help her cross a path that, at times, she wasn't even sure she could see clearly.

Her head was beginning to hurt.

"Is this seat taken?"

Imogen looked up to see a new but familiar face. It was Todd. He was smiling at her and pointing at the bench. She shook her head, long strands of hair falling into her eyes.