“No, she spent a year abroad where her and Ms. Chereaux met.”
“Wow, that’s amazing,” I tell him, genuinely impressed.
“Have you been to France?” he asks.
I shake my head a little. “No, the only place I’ve been to outside of Indiana is Michigan. At least that’s what my birth certificate says,” I say lightly. He looks at me curiously.
“Really, not even Chicago?” he asks, almost amazed.
“No, not even there,” I say, feeling a little awkward.
“I bet you’ve been everywhere, haven’t you?” I ask, attempting to change the subject.
“Nah,” he says quietly, shaking his head with a boyish grin.
“Come on, where have you been?” I ask, letting him know it’s okay to share.
“Well, my parents are big travelers so we’ve gone to Europe a couple of times,” he says modestly. They probably go every year. My eyes take notice of the watch he’s wearing. It’s sleek and looks expensive like his dad’s car.
Kameron is rich. I know this now. The question is…how rich is he? I hate that and it makes me uncomfortable even though he’s done nothing but be kind to me. What would the two of us have in common? He’s probably been around the world several times. I bet he knows different languages and probably has a trust fund worth more than I’ll make in my entire life.
You’re not good enough for him.
It’s hot in here. I need air, or space, that’s what I need.
“Excuse me,” I say, getting up from the table. He gets up as well, concern littering his handsome features.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just have to go to the bathroom,” I tell him, excusing myself as quickly as I can.
Once I make my escape to the bathroom I take in several deep breaths. What am I doing here? I should be home studying or picking up an extra shift. This was a mistake! A fantasy. The chances of a guy like him being truly interested in me—and even if he is—he’d eventually realize I’m just a little girl from foster care with no family, and a whole lot of problems that someone like him doesn’t have to deal with. His family will hate me if it even got to that point. Maybe he just wants to sleep with me and be done with it. I’m not ready to date and to just be thrown away. Does he want to have sex? Is that what all of this is for?
“Hello, Jolie?”
I’m not alone anymore, Ms. Chereaux has come in with a wide smile on her face. When she looks at me it falters a bit.
“The food didn’t agree with you?” she asks, worried. I try to pull myself together.
“No the food was excellent, this…it’s so wonderful. I feel like I’ve had a little piece of France.”
“Then something else wrong?” she asks, her eyes searching me.
“Ugh first date jitters.” I shrug, and immediately kick myself. She’s his mom’s friend so she probably knows, and if she didn’t, she knows now.
“Ohh yes. Kameron is a very nice boy, no?”
“Yes, he’s really nice. He’s been the perfect gentleman,” I tell her quickly, and she narrows her eyes at me a bit and a small smile spreads across her face.
“You like him a lot?” she says, and I blush. “You are the first girl he brings here.” She gives me an encouraging smile. The first?
She said first, not only.
“I think he likes you.” This makes my heart speed up, and I’m not sure if it’s made me feel better or worse; nerves and butterflies are interchangeable with me these days.
“His mom raised him good. He’s a good boy. I promise.” She gives me a reassuring squeeze and soft smile, her boisterous energy toned down and sincere. It eases my fears to hear that, even if she’s a family friend. I think of him and release a smile when she says he is a good boy.
I ignore the voice deep down that says I’m not a good girl.
I make my way back to the table and I see Kameron, his shoulders slumped, looking downcast and playing with his food.
“Hi,” I say quietly, with a smile that comes naturally upon seeing him. His eyes light up when he sees me, his body instantly perking up. Those sparkling blue orbs make me feel like everything will be okay.
“I thought I lost you for a minute.” He stands quickly in order to pull out my chair, and it makes me smile. I sit down and let out a breath. I’m not a pretender or a liar and if I don’t tell him now, even if it goes over bad, it has to be said because I’ll mess this up.
“I just kind of want to put it out here,” I say, taking a deep breath and running a hand through my hair.
“I don’t come from the best family…or even a family, to be honest. I’m at Purdue on a scholarship. I’ve never traveled and don’t think I could afford to until who knows when. I stay in a crappy little apartment but it’s mine and it’s clean and relatively safe. It’s hard for me to open up to people because every time I have, I disappoint them or they disappoint me and it’s been easier to be alone and I’m okay with that, but for some insane reason I said yes to coming out with you and I’m here and I hate that I’m ruining what should have been a perfect date because you’ve made it perfect. And you seem pretty perfect, but my imperfections are too long to list and if you just want to get up and leave, I get it. I won’t hold it against you and when we see each other in school I’ll turn and walk the other way.”
I let out a sigh when I’m done. I’m afraid to meet his eyes because I must sound like a lunatic and the warm hopeful smile he gives me makes me want to be the normal girl he should be on this date with.
“My dad and sister will let you know I’m not perfect.” He says this with a flawless smile. “I don’t care about your family or where you’ve been. I want to know you, whatever that entails, and maybe along the way you’ll figure out you want to know me too.” His words are so comforting as he slides his hand across and encapsulates mine in his. My heart dances, but fear creeps around the comfort. Comfort is new. Dread, panic, anxiety—those are what I’ve been comfortable with around men. Not this. This is something different and it’s scarier than anything I’ve ever felt before.
“How can I say no that,” I tell him, and his brilliant smile widens.
“Tell me about Paris…”
Over brunch he tells me about Paris, Italy, and Germany and I’m in awe how someone has been to so many places I’ve only ever dreamed of, that I haven’t thought it was possible of going to until I was in my fifties, if I was lucky. He’s a wonderful storyteller and stops me several times to make sure he’s not boring me. But I’m in awe of his life, of him, how he’s unintentionally humble and organically sweet. I notice the way his eyes light up when he’s excited, how long and curly his lashes are, and the way his toned arms flex in his polo, how it looks mature and effortless on him. There’s an easiness to him that has to come from having a life he never had to fight for and it’s refreshing to be in his presence, and I try to soak it up.
By the time we’ve finished eating he’s told me of all his travels (well, the ones to Europe) and we say goodbye to Ms. Chereaux. She gives him a big warm hug and I’m surprised when she gives me the same. As we leave I turn back to look at her and she winks at me with a huge grin on her face. Kameron open the door for me and I thank him, still having to get used to it. Most of my foster brothers who weren’t pervs were barely nice, let alone chivalrous.