Page 35 of Wild and Wrangled

Five minutes later, we had a finished bed. We lifted the mattress onto it, and Cam grabbed some sheets and a quilt. She started to spread out the fitted sheet—sage green with small flowers all over it—and I took a corner. Same with the top sheet and the quilt, which was a light pink with small, embroidered flowers on it.

“Does Riley like flowers?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Cam nodded. “She and Teddy did a wildflower hunt this summer, and she’s been totally obsessed ever since. Personally, I love that her room always feels like summer now.”

“Still your favorite season?” In my head, I was checking off the boxes of everything I knew about her that still remained true.

“Still my favorite season,” Cam said. Summer, check; tomatoes, check; pickles, check.

When she looked at me, something flashed behind her brown eyes. Neither of us said anything. The only noise was the music from the speaker—“MakeDamnSure” by Taking Back Sunday. Another song from one of our mix CDs. Now that I thought about it, every song I heard was on one of our mix CDs.

Without thinking, I put my hand out, asking her to dance. I watched her face fall and her walls go up.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, regret flooding me. “The song…” I trailed off.

“I know,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, swallowing hard. “That’s not what I came over here for. I came over here to check on you, and then if that went well, I was going to ask if you thought we could be friends.”

Cam’s eyes flitted around the room—avoiding mine.

“C’mon, Ash,” I said. “We were always friends before anything else.”

I watched the wheels turn in her head. She bit her bottom lip and fiddled with her fingers again. In real time, I watched her weigh the pros and the cons, and I fought the urge to beg.

Say yes. Please.

“We have always been friends,” she said, and I exhaled. “You’re right.”

“So?” I asked hopefully.

“Friends it is.”

Chapter 17

Cam

Fifteen Years Ago

Dusty:Hike with me this weekend? Check yes or no (don’t check no, please).

Cam:What are you, obsessed with hiking? You’re insufferable. I don’t even know if I like hiking.

Dusty:Only one way to find out. I’ll pick you up at eight.

Cam:In the morning?!

Dusty:Yeah, sleepyhead. In the morning.

Cam:Okay, but park down the street.

Dusty:That’s getting kind of weird, Ash.

Cam:My parents aren’t like yours. I’m protecting you, I promise.

Dusty:Whatever you say. Wear good shoes.

“You all right back there?” Dusty asked as we continued to trudge up the mountain. Well, I was trudging. Dusty was basically floating—the incline didn’t seem to bother him at all.

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