Page 39 of Curious
Cam chuckles. “Yeah, I suppose. But no, it’s because I like you. You want to be loved. I want to be the one who can at least tell you that it’s okay to be you and that you are lovable just the way you are.”
Now he’s making it worse. Because I do want someone to love me, and I could see myself falling for Cam easily. But that’s not our deal. On top of that, it feels wrong to think about looking at any other guy when I have Cam with me—not that I want to look at other guys. I have a sense of loyalty to him that’s come on very strong from the moment we said our vows.
And that’s probably something to analyze. Because I’m still loyal to my mom, even though she threw me out. I’m loyal to Camden, even though we’re only married so he can have health insurance. I’m loyal to so many people and things beyond the time that they serve me… because I want them to love me.
I sigh again and snuggle in closer.
“What do you need?” he asks. “A drink of water or something stronger? Go home and sleep? Watch something on TV? Bang on metal?”
I giggle. “Bang on metal?”
Cam shrugs. “My dad used to call it that. You know … go out in the backyard and get out the stress.”
“I think I just want to go home and curl up with you. Is that okay?”
“Of course it is,” he says, sounding mildly offended. “I like to be touched. Always have. And I like touching you.”
“I like it when you’re affectionate. I never had that kind of affection.”
“And you were just starving for it, weren’t you?” he murmurs.
I want to deny it, or at least shrug and brush it off like it’s no big deal, but I’m also kind of tired of hiding who I am. I’m tired of hiding my past. I like how I can be myself with Cam and he doesn’t seem to judge me.
“I think so, yeah,” I admit. “I didn’t get it as a kid, so I’m looking for it now.”
“Then I’m your man,” Camden says. And I wish it meant more than it does.
* * *
Over the next week, Camden has more doctor’s appointments and treatments, and he’s booted up and under orders to put no weight on his foot. But he does have medical devices—a knee scooter thing along with the crutches—that make it so he’s able to move around more easily.
He spent a weekend afternoon, along with Charlie, Reyna, Danny, and Alden, helping me move entirely out of Evan’s place. Cam was there more for moral support than anything else. I didn’t have that much stuff, anyway—more clothes and too many craft supplies. Cam carried out my vision boards, which were all in a huge envelope. I still had a key, so I texted Evan when we were going to come over, and he stayed away. We brought so many people so we’d have witnesses in case something went wrong. But everything went smoothly. It made me nervous that Evan was so quiet, but I returned the key in an envelope in the mailbox and said goodbye to that loser.
Cam is able to return to working, at least the jobs that don’t involve ladders or him putting weight on his foot. Every day, he kisses me goodbye before he leaves for work. He kisses me when he comes home. He kisses me when we’re making dinner on the hot plate in the cramped kitchen. He kisses me when we go to the grocery store.
And I’m more than okay with it. Most nights we sleep in the same bed. I usually end up crawling out of bed early and jerking off furiously in the shower so he doesn’t feel weird about my boners. He gets morning wood, too, but I try not to notice.
Camden’s always got his arm around me, and I love it. When we watch television, I sit next to him on the couch and snuggle into him. And I feel all these touch sensors lighting up. Cam will stroke my arm, making the hairs on it rise. He’ll caress the back of my neck. Somehow, I guess because we’re married, he feels like he can.
And I want him to.
I’ve never had this kind of platonic arrangement. Or sorta-platonic. Since we kiss and make out sometimes.
We just don’t have sex.
And I … want to.
CHAPTER13
Camden
As my ankle heals, Shelby and I get into a rhythm of going to work and hanging out at home. I’m able to get some construction work done in the outside world—subcontractors and laborers are a blessing—so I have some money coming in and can pay the mortgage and other bills. Shelby keeps trying to pay rent, but I won’t let him. I do accept his buying groceries, though, and we alternate being in charge of meals.
I spend time at the physical therapist, and while I say no to the bone stim procedure, I do get fitted for some very sexy (not) orthopedic shoes. The bruises disappear from Shelby’s face, and he seems to be back to normal.
He’s been looking for a place to move, but whenever we’ve gone to check one out, they’re never okay. Either too expensive or sharing with sketchy people or not in a good part of town. I told him he can stay here, and I want him to.
And it’s slowly becoming a place where hecanstay. Over the course of a few evenings, I managed to get the drywall up and texturized and primed it for painting, so the place doesn’t look like a complete disaster anymore—it just looks vacant, with little furniture and no flooring to speak of yet. Everything takes me three times as long as usual, but it’s getting done eventually. In other words, things are going well.
