Chapter 34: Eleven Years
The log creaked under our weight when I sat down beside her. The wood was warm from the sun and a little sunken in the middle, so we inevitably ended up closer than I would have chosen. The smell of dry earth, leaves, and cheap soap mixed with the heat of the afternoon.
Camila didn't say anything at first. She just took a sip from the glass she still had in her hand and looked toward the trees as if she were sorting through her thoughts.
"Eleven years is a long time," she said at last, without looking at me.
"I stayed here. You left. Tell me."
It wasn't a polite request. It was an order disguised as conversation, typical of her.
"My father took me with him after the divorce," I answered. "I lived in the city. Studying, training, more studying. Not much else."
She let out a short laugh through her nose.
"That sounds miserable."
"It was."
Camila turned her head toward me. Her dark brown hair with lighter strands fell over one shoulder and brushed her collarbone. Her olive-green eyes held me without mercy.
"And a girlfriend?"
The question caught me off guard.
"No."
"Never?"
"Never."
She raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.
"Wow. And here I thought people in the city ate each other alive. Turns out you were still the same intense kid as always."
I shrugged, feeling heat rise up my neck. Not just because of the question. But because, sitting like that, with one leg bent on the log and the short riding up a little on her thigh, it was too easy to remember the tan line I had seen that same morning. The lighter skin right where a bikini should cover. The way she had taken off her clothes without even turning around.
I looked away toward the trees.
"What about you?" I asked, trying to throw the ball back. "What have you been doing all this time?"
Camila stretched back, resting her hands on the wood. The movement lifted her T-shirt a little and left a strip of brown skin on her stomach visible.
"I worked whatever came up. Helped at the town store for a while. Then I took care of animals for some families. Now I clean houses a couple of days a week and figure out the rest. Nothing exciting. This town doesn't give much more than that."
She paused.
"Though sometimes it's enough."
Silence settled again, but it was no longer comfortable. There was something dense between us. Eleven years of things left unsaid and, at least on my side, a fairly large lie by omission.
Camila moved one leg and her knee brushed against mine. She didn't pull it away.
"You're tense," she said suddenly.
"No."
"Yes. Since you got here you've been acting weird. You look at me like you've got something stuck in your throat."
I swallowed.
"It's strange seeing you after so long. That's all."
She didn't seem to fully believe me. She leaned forward a little, resting her elbows on her thighs. The neckline of the T-shirt opened enough to show the upper curve of her breasts and the contrast of her skin. She wasn't doing it on purpose. Or at least not in the calculated way any of my sisters would. With Camila everything seemed simpler… and that was exactly what made it harder to ignore.
"Did you remember me?" she asked suddenly, her voice lower.
"Yes."
"A lot?"
I hesitated.
"More than I should admit."
She smirked, that half-crooked smile I remembered perfectly from when we were teenagers.
"How sweet. The intense kid did have a heart after all."
She stayed quiet for a moment, looking at me. Then she wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, brushing away the sweat. The heat was stifling even under the shade of the trees.
"Fuck, it's hot," she muttered.
She lifted the edge of her T-shirt for a second to fan the skin of her stomach. The gesture was quick, natural, but enough for my eyes to lock onto that strip of skin and the way the shorts sank a little between her legs when she moved.
My body reacted before I could control it. I clenched my jaw and looked away again toward the ground.
Camila noticed the movement.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Liar."
She scooted a little closer on the log. Now our legs were completely touching. The heat of her skin came through the fabric.
"Ethan," she said, and this time her tone was different. Less teasing. More serious. "If there's something you want to tell me, say it. I don't like it when people keep things to themselves. You always kept things to yourself."
My heart was beating hard.
I almost told her.
I almost confessed that that same morning I had been hidden among those same trees, watching her wash clothes, seeing her take off her T-shirt, burning the tan line and the shape of her body into my memory like a sick person.
But I didn't.
"It's just… a lot," I answered at last. "Coming back. Seeing you. Everything."
Camila watched me in silence for several seconds. Then she sighed and leaned back a little, though without moving her leg away from mine.
"Fine. I'm not going to force anything out of you. It never worked before, it's not going to work now."
She stayed looking toward the yard, where the basin and the hanging laundry were still visible.
"Though if you keep acting this weird every time you look at me, I'm going to start thinking things," she added with a small smile.
I didn't know if it was a threat or an invitation.
I only knew that the log suddenly felt too small, that the heat was too much, and that eleven years had done nothing to teach me how to be near her without feeling like I was drowning.
Camila ran a hand through her hair, pushing the damp strands back. The movement left her neck and jaw completely exposed to the sun filtering through the leaves.
"Stay a little longer," she said suddenly, without looking at me. "I don't have anything to do this afternoon. And you seem like you need someone who tells you things straight."
I nodded in silence.
I didn't trust my voice at that moment.
She smiled again, that crooked, dangerous smile, and settled better on the log, so close I could feel every small breath of hers.
Eleven years.
And somehow, it felt like we were only just starting to really talk.
End of Chapter 34