10 Years Later Part 6

I turned to look in the direction Jenna was pointing, and it was as if the room had become the Red Sea and parted in the wake that was Dalton Thomas. My stomach clenched as a flood of emotions filled me.

He was here. And as far as I could tell, he was alone, thank G.o.d. Right when I would have bet my hard-earned money that he wasn't showing up, here he was. And Christ on a cracker, had he aged well. He might not have been all that good looking in high school, but the years had been more than kind.

His sandy-brown hair was still a little too long and almost hung in his eyes, the way it had back then. The charcoal-gray suit he was wearing looked d.a.m.n good on him, like it was tailored for him. He might have been a boy ten years ago, but his body was all man now, complete with broad shoulders, defined arm muscles, and thick in places I could only imagine.

Stop imagining.

My world immediately imploded at the sight of him. Everything I'd tried to convince myself of over the last ten years had been an absolute lie-that he no longer affected me, that I was all but over him, that it was just a high school fling that meant nothing. Seeing him now made me realize that Dalton would always be a part of me. It was as simple, and as complicated, as that. Whether he wanted to be or not, he was my first love. Whether I wanted him to claim that t.i.tle or not, it was his, and it always would be. You could never give the firsts of anything away to someone else; life didn't work like that.

My stomach rolled and churned as he walked deeper in the room, his presence even more commanding than it once was. The invisible cord that stretched between us tightened, yanking on my heart. Knowing Dalton was near, my body reacted. My breath came out in shortened bursts, my heart pounded so hard I heard each throb in my ears, and heat flooded my entire body.

Fascinated, I watched as grown men ran excitedly to his side and slapped him with high fives, fist b.u.mps, and manly back-patting hugs. Women ran from all directions to greet him with full-body hugs. Was it my imagination, or was Dalton looking past the people who surrounded him? He searched the room, his eyes scanning for something, and hope lurched in my silly chest.

"How you doing?" Kristy whispered, the question innocent enough.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," I admitted before abruptly shoving away from the table and making my escape, heading as far away from Dalton as I could get. Pushing open the women's bathroom door, I raced to the sink and gripped the counter with both hands. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to steady my breathing, which was unsteady, to say the least.

Memories of kissing Dalton filled my head, and I shook it, trying to release them . . .

a a a "What are we doing? Not that I mind kissing you or anything," I'd mumbled against Dalton's lips as I broke the kiss and struggled to catch my breath. Pressing against his hard body in the photography darkroom, I'd silently prayed that no one would come in and interrupt us. "But what is this?"

"Do you want to define it, Cammie?" He squared his jaw to look at me before he leaned down and kissed me again. "Is that what you want?" he asked between kisses, his hands firmly holding me in place. "Tell me."

I did want that. I wanted to define what we were, have a T-shirt made with the definition, and wear it every single day to school. But I was terrified if I admitted that to Dalton, he'd go away, and whatever this was between us would stop. And kissing Dalton Thomas had become the brightest part of my darkest days. I wasn't ready for it to end, whatever this was.

"I don't know," I said, then my mouth betrayed my brain. "No. I guess we don't have to."

"I like kissing you." He spoke the words so sweetly that I not only believed them, but I would have bought whatever he was selling.

"I like kissing you too."

"Then don't stop." His mouth covered mine as my hands slid up his neck and tangled in his hair.

a a a Seeing Dalton, the one thing I came here for, had thrown me. I thought I was ready to face him, our history, and the way he had once made me feel so much after not feeling anything at all, but he rattled me.

It had been ten years, for crying out loud, but right now it felt as if no time had pa.s.sed. Nothing I told myself could have prepared me for what it felt like to see him in real life. Up until this point, the idea of seeing Dalton again had been just that-an idea, a notion, a fantasy.

To have him standing in the same room as me, breathing the same air, it was overwhelming. I thought I knew what I wanted, but I had no clue what that was anymore. All rational thoughts flew out the window the second he entered the room. Kristy had mentioned closure, but that was the furthest thing from my mind. Right now all I wanted was the opposite of closure, whatever the h.e.l.l that was.

When I opened my eyes, I stared at my reflection, surprised. My makeup and hair still looked flawless. For whatever reason, I'd half expected my outside to be just as frazzled as my insides.

The restroom door burst open as Kristy entered. "Are you okay?" she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Just trying to get it together." I forced a smile. "Please tell me I'm not pathetic. I just saw him and got all emotional. Please tell me I'm not being stupid and weak and dumb."

"You're not. Cammie, the way he was there for you after your dad . . ."

Kristy paused and didn't finish her sentence. It was a subject I rarely talked about, and she knew better than to get into details about my father unless she wanted me to lose it completely in this hotel bathroom.

"He's linked to you forever because of that," she said. "There are emotional ties between the two of you that will always be there. That's why you've never been able to truly let him go. Not that I blame you."

I nodded in agreement as I stared at myself in the mirror and willed myself not to cry. "I do feel connected to him. Even after all this time, it's like nothing's changed."

"He's always been the one guy you never truly got over. I think we all get one of those. Some of us meet him in college or at our first real job. But you met yours in high school. It is what it is." She shrugged, spouting off this knowledge as if she were an expert at love. "Now get it together and let's get back out there. I swear he was looking for you."

I waved her off. "I doubt it was me, but I'll be out in a second. Just go. Please."

My best friend stared at me for a moment, indecision making her frown. Thankfully she had matured since high school-barely-and she made the right choice, leaving me in the bathroom alone.

I could do this. I was no longer a seventeen-year-old girl; I was a grown woman, for Pete's sake. A grown woman who could handle facing her past and the one guy connected to it.

Once my pep talk ended, I sucked in a long, deep breath and flung open the bathroom door. I took my time as I walked back into the dimly lit room and toward my table. Dalton was still surrounded by a crowd of fans. It was like I was back in high school all over again, watching him from afar as he stood there, adored by everyone in his proximity.

Part of me wanted to walk right up to him and break this spell, but the other part of me refused to move. As immature a notion as it was, I wanted Dalton to come to me, to chase me, to choose me.

He smiled at someone, and even though I was sitting down, my knees trembled under the table.

"He looks really good," Kristy whispered while I continued to stare, searching his left hand for any sign of a ring in the darkness.

"I noticed," I said before forcing myself to look away.

"Oh Lord," Kristy whispered. "The eagle has landed. Crash landed. Hard landing."

Where Did She Go.

Dalton.

I scanned the room for her, feeling desperate, out of control, and needy. When I didn't see her anywhere, I almost lost my s.h.i.t and demanded that someone turn the d.a.m.n lights on full blast so I could actually see.

People wouldn't leave my side as they greeted me, annoying me by saying how great it was to see me and asking a million and a half questions that could wait for some other time. When I finally spotted Kristy but no Cammie, my heart sank to the pit of my stomach.

No.

She had to be here; she said she was coming. But what if I was too late? What if she had already left? Just as I was about to kick my own a.s.s, Cammie rushed over to Kristy's table, looking upset. I couldn't take my eyes off her, even as other people chirped in my ears and surrounded me like I was a f.u.c.king Hollywood star or something.

"I'll be right back. I need to go," I announced as I pushed my way through the people next to me and headed toward her. It was rude to cut my old friends off that way. I knew they were only curious about where I'd been, but there would be time for catching up with them later. After Cammie. Cammie needed to come first. Everyone else could come last.

Walking over toward her table, I watched as she stood up quickly, as if trying to escape. She scooted her chair back and turned her body right into mine, her hazel eyes even prettier than I remembered.

"Cammie." I smiled and couldn't stop myself from taking in the length of her body in that red dress. She looked f.u.c.king incredible; her legs were still a mile long. How could one person still look so much the same, yet so different all at once?

She shifted her weight and glanced toward my hands before saying, "Hi, Dalton. It's, uh, been a long time."

When I opened my arms, she stepped into them, and a tiny ball of pressure lifted from my shoulders, just from having her near. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her tight. She fit against my body perfectly, like she was made for me. Twenty-seven-year-old Cammie was built to fit with twenty-eight-year-old Dalton. My d.i.c.k sure seemed to agree.

"You look beautiful, Cammie," I whispered against her hair, and breathed her in as my pants immediately tightened.

Being a guy had only a few downfalls; the complete lack of control when it came to our d.i.c.ks was one of them. I didn't want to let her go, but knew that I needed to before something either pressed against her thigh, or she thought I was a lunatic who couldn't keep his hands off her. Not that I wanted to. My hands belonged all over that body.

"Thank you. You look really good yourself," she said, but her voice sounded off. It was too chipper, too forced.

"Dalton, dude! Where have you been?"

A guy I couldn't place interrupted us, and as I glanced around the room at all of the people, I realized that if I wanted to talk to Cammie at all, I would have to get her the h.e.l.l out of here.

I looked back at the guy and shook his hand. "I've been in New York. I'll come talk to you in a bit; I want to catch up with Cammie first."

He looked between us and raised his beer. "Oh, sorry. Okay. Come find me."

"Still so popular." She smiled, and I resisted the urge to cover her red lips with mine. Being near her was like being near a warm pool of water. I wanted to dive right in and let her completely engulf me.

"Cammie, I-" I started to say when I heard my name being repeated through the speaker system.

"Dalton Thomas, come say a few words, please. You were our cla.s.s president. Get up here! It's your duty."

I looked at Cammie and pulled at my hair, making my annoyance perfectly clear. "s.h.i.t, Cammie, I'm sorry. Don't go anywhere. Promise me you won't go anywhere," I pleaded, not caring how desperate I sounded. This was my one chance to get on the right foot with her, and I refused to blow it.

"Go. Say good s.h.i.t." She winked as she patted my shoulder.

"Promise you won't leave," I demanded, refusing to move from her side until she did. I didn't want to give a f.u.c.king speech to my old cla.s.smates. The only speech I wanted to give was to the girl currently standing in front of me, and I didn't have anything written down.

"I won't go anywhere," she said, and I swear I saw a flicker of something in her eyes.

"You gotta promise me, Cammie."

She gave me a big smile, a genuine one, and my whole world fell into place. "I promise."

"I'll be right back," I said as I reluctantly walked away from her and made my way to the front of the room where Lisa Reynolds stood with a cordless microphone. She gave me a hug and whispered something inappropriate in my ear before shoving the mic into my hand.

Feeling awkward as h.e.l.l, I held the mic in front of me and cleared my throat. "Uh, well, I wasn't expecting to have to give a speech tonight, but I get it. Presidential duties have no statute of limitations, I'm told. First of all-"

I searched the room for Cammie's face. As soon as I found her hazel eyes, I locked on them and started talking.

"I'm really sorry I'm late. Secondly, I just wanted to thank you for coming. I know that none of us had to be here. It was a choice, an option, but I'm glad you chose to come because I came here to see you too. I've missed you. And, uh . . ."

I stumbled on my words as Cammie's expression softened and her smile widened. I looked away; I had to.

"That's it. Have a good time tonight. Don't drink and drive; I'd hate to have to arrest you." I smirked before shoving the microphone back at Lisa and making a beeline straight back to the girl I came here for.

"Cute speech," Cammie said in a teasing tone. Her tone had lightened, grown more comfortable in those few minutes, and I was grateful. "So you're a cop?"

I nodded, wondering what her reaction would be. A thousand thoughts raced through my brain as I waited for her to say something else. Me being a cop might throw her, and I was well aware that she might not be okay with it.

"I can see that." Her lips pressed together as her eyes focused somewhere over my shoulder, and I could see her mind drifting. "It suits you."

"How so?" I asked, finding myself hoping that she would say good and complimentary things. f.u.c.k it if I didn't need a little ego stroking from her right about now.

"Well, you were always great with people, and you were a good leader. And you were always a stand-up guy. So it makes sense that you would want to be one of the good ones."

I wanted to tell her that I'd chosen that career path because of her. She had just given me the perfect lead-in, but I'd be d.a.m.ned if I'd have this conversation with her in the middle of a crowded ballroom with cheesy old school music playing in the background. No, confessions like this needed privacy.

I stepped a little closer and leaned forward to ask, "Cammie, can we go somewhere and talk? I'd really like to tell you some things."

She looked down at her shoes before glancing over at her best friend. Kristy wasn't looking at either of us, and when Cammie's eyes met mine again, she pursed her lips before saying, "Sure."

I reached for her hand and interlaced my fingers with hers. Feeling her soft hand in mine sent spasms of want shooting through my body. I pulled her through the crowd and out the ballroom doors, ignoring the pleas of old cla.s.smates who called out, asking us to stop and chat.

Frustrated, I had no idea where to take her. Looking to the left and the right, I noticed a sign with an arrow pointing the direction toward the hotel bar and restaurant. Figuring that everyone who wanted to talk to either of us was in the ballroom or immediately in front of it, I decided to head to the restaurant. When my grip on her tightened, Cammie didn't try to pull her hand from mine, and I read into that as if my life depended on it.

The restaurant was dark and empty. I pulled on the door to test anyway, ignoring the Closed sign that stood in front of it. Not believing my awful luck, I yanked once more, but it was locked up tight.

"I think it's closed," Cammie said with a laugh.

"You would have done the same thing," I said lightly.

"Touche."

Realizing that my only other option seemed to be the bar, I groaned to myself before moving in that direction, Cammie still in hand. Literally. Once inside the dimly lit and tiny-as-f.u.c.k place, I mentally took inventory of our options. Seeing a single high-top table in the far corner of the room, furthest from the door, I tugged Cammie in that direction. When I let go of her hand, she immediately took the seat that faced the entrance of the bar, leaving her back against a wall.

I fidgeted, wondering for a moment how to go about this.

"Why aren't you sitting?" Her face crinkled with confusion, and she looked so d.a.m.n adorable I had to fight back the urge to lean in and kiss her.

Everything in me was fighting against itself as I looked at the waiting empty chair. Just sit the f.u.c.k down, I tried to order my body, but my legs refused.

"Dalton? Are you okay?"

Running a hand through my hair, I looked behind me one last time before I met Cammie's concerned eyes. "It's just, well, I can't have my back facing an entrance. It's sort of a-"

Her eyes wide, she interrupted me before jumping up from her seat. "It's a cop thing. I remember. Here, you take this one." She hopped into the other chair, leaving her back exposed and vulnerable without a care in the world.

"I'm sorry." I apologized, embarra.s.sed because I knew it seemed irrational to most people, but I'd been trained at the police academy to always sit facing a room's entrance. It was drilled into me to be aware of a threat the moment it appeared, and not be taken surprise by it. If there were multiple entrances to a room, I made note of where they were and did my best to sit in the least vulnerable position, my gaze always moving.

My training didn't simply disappear once I was off the clock. It was something that had become a part of me and a part of my life. Dalton and Dalton-the-undercover-cop meshed more than I liked sometimes, and I couldn't help it.

"Don't be sorry. My dad used to do the same thing." Her voice softened as she mentioned her father, and I wondered how affected she still was by what had happened to him.

"Did he?" I asked, wanting to open this door. I needed this segue, and she offered it up to me again.

She averted her eyes, looking past me at the wall. "Everywhere we went. I can't believe I sat there. I would have never done that if he-" She stopped, her eyes returning to meet mine, and I wanted to hold her, kiss her, and tell her everything would be okay.

"It's been a long time, Cammie. It's okay to sit there now," I said. "I mean, obviously not right now now, 'cause I'm here." I stammered, my words not coming out as cool and collected as I wanted them to, and she giggled into her hand as she covered her mouth. "Ah, s.h.i.t. You know what I mean."