Page 26

CHAPTER 26

Cami

I’m bent over my notebook, planning like my life depends on it. It’s just a few days before our scheduled day to find Charlie a hobby and I think I have our every breath scheduled at this point. I want to make sure we can get in as many hobbies as possible. It’s hard to get an entire day from him where he doesn’t have another team obligation, practice or a game, so I’m taking advantage of his day off.

I’m also trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach, which have only grown since we started all of this, and it’s the strangest feeling. I don’t usually experience this when I spend time with him. He’s a friend, there’s no place for these feelings where he’s concerned. In fact, I can’t remember the last time spending time with a man gave me butterflies. It’s like this has just all of a sudden gone from something I was reluctantly agreeing to, to something I look forward to and I’m not sure when the switch flipped. Maybe it’s the way he seems to know me so well or how he provided silent support at the ballet. Maybe it’s the way I felt when he kissed me, like electricity was coursing through my body, or the way all of it has felt so natural, if not a little awkward at times. The longer we pretend, the less it feels like we’re pretending, and that’s what I was afraid of.

Knowing that I can’t go any further down that line of thinking, I chalk it up to our friendship getting stronger and decide to put it out of my mind for now. I scribble out the last few ideas I have to fill our afternoon and look down at my list. Arguably the one I’m most excited about is competitive dog grooming. I had no idea this was even a thing that people did. I mean I knew there were dog shows, but I didn’t consider that there was an entire portion strictly for dog grooming. The only problem is, I need to borrow a dog.

I’ve always wanted a dog, because they’re cute and cuddly and the best companion when you feel lonely. However, living in a teeny tiny New York apartment doesn’t make for a whole lot of space to house a four legged animal. It hasn’t ever felt right to bring one to live with me when they wouldn’t get a backyard, or at the very least space to experience the zoomies. If they had the zoomies in my little one bedroom they would certainly break something.

I call a few different groomers in the city before finally finding one that will let us come and help them with one of their clients. I smile as I cross the item off of my list, feeling proud of myself. My mom always poked fun at my inability to be organized, but I’m proving her wrong with every bit of planning I do. I consider sending this perfectly timed out day to her with a note that says “In your face, Mom!” but that seems a bit juvenile so I toss that idea and keep moving.

* * *

Today better go well because I deserve an award for the amount of planning I’ve done. I’ve been up almost all night preparing. A banner is hung in the living room that says “Happy Hobby Day!” and I have a schedule printed of our plans hour by hour, starting promptly at eight this morning. I used the same brown butcher paper I’m using for wrapping Christmas presents for the sign, and I grabbed some red, white, and blue craft paint from the store in order to give it some New York Rangers spirit. I know Charlie is going to freak when he sees how serious I’ve taken this, but I can’t find it in myself to be sorry. Not only is this going to be so much fun, it’s going to be great for social media content.

Which is what this is all about. Right ? Right.

All around the tiny apartment I have set up stations for each hobby we’re going to attempt. Everything but the dog grooming and flower arranging is going to take place here in this shoebox. I have three tables set up in the living room for painting, calligraphy, and soap carving, and a scrapbooking station at the small table in the kitchen. The knitting station is in the bedroom, because you have to curl up in bed while you knit. It’s a requirement to be comfy for that one.

Each station has the materials needed laid out, along with any tools we might need. Smocks, carving knives, paint brushes, scrapbook paper, the list is endless.

I place our printed and laminated schedules on the coffee table in the living room, then sit down on the loveseat with a deep sigh. I did it. Now I just need to wait for him to arrive.

* * *

“Hey, Cam.”

I feel a pressure on my shoulder, a hand I realize, and I try to peel my eyes open but they feel impossibly heavy. The hand shakes me a little and I reach up to rub the sleep away, blinking rapidly to clear my vision. Charlie’s tall broad form stands above me, his dirty blond hair covering his forehead, and he reaches down to brush my hair out of my face.

All of a sudden, I realize that I’ve been asleep when I should have been awake. I didn’t even hear him knock on the door, or unlock it and come in for that matter. I shoot up to sitting, looking around frantically for the schedule. He jolts back in surprise and carefully sits down next to me like I might jump him at any given minute.

“What time is it?” I ask, panic clear in my voice. He gently places his hand on my knee and begins rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

“You looked like you needed the sleep so I waited a little bit before waking you. It’s not been that long, maybe forty-five minutes.”

“What?” I grab my phone frantically, see that the time reads eight fifty in the morning, and stare down at my hands. My moms voice is suddenly playing on a loop in my mind.

You’ve always been the disorganized one.

We should let your sister handle the planning for this one, Cam.

A girl your age should be working off of a calendar, honey.

You’re never going to find someone who wants to marry you if you can’t remember when and where the date was supposed to be.

“I can’t believe I did this.”

“Did what?” he asks. I had practically forgotten he was there, lost in my own thoughts.

“I can’t ever seem to do anything right. I plan this whole day out and I can’t even execute it on time. I freaking fall asleep and it all goes to shit. What is wrong with me?”

Charlie startles, I guess at my outburst, and I slump further in my seat.

“You cussed,” he whispers.

“Oh.” I close my eyes and cringe. “Of course I did. I didn’t even realize I was doing it.” And if that isn’t a paradigm of my life. I am constantly disappointing people without even trying. Making mistakes I don’t even see coming.

He reaches out and places his hands on either side of my face, turning it to look straight into his sapphire eyes. I startle at the sudden unexpected contact. The calluses on his hands from days of handling a hockey stick should feel rough and uncomfortable, but they don’t.

“Cami, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You are perfect. Your hair is perfect.” He reaches up and takes a strand of blonde hair between his thumb and pointer finger, rubbing it between his fingers, twirling it, then placing it carefully back behind my ear. “Your brain is perfect,” he says as he leans forward and places a gentle kiss to the middle of my forehead. “It comes up with the best jokes and the smartest ideas.”

I look up at him, stunned by his words and the physical contact.

“Your eyes are perfect.” He brushes his thumbs under my eyes as they flutter. “These lips are far too perfect.” His thumb presses into the middle of my bottom lip and swipes. A shiver escapes me as I desperately try to not let his touch affect me. “But most importantly.” He cups my face with his palm. “Your heart is perfect. It’s kind and loving and sees the good in people. It seeks for ways to help others and meets needs. I could care less about your ability to plan something down to the very second when you have a heart like this.”

I have no idea how to respond, so I take a deep breath and nod.

“Now, let’s look at your schedule and see what we can move around to make this work, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, we’re a little more than a half hour behind. It looks like you have an hour for lunch. What if we grab sandwiches and eat them while we walk to our after lunch spot? That should make up the time.”

“That…should work.”

“Good. Now, I’m not so sure about all of this,” his eyes slowly slide from the top of the page to the bottom, reading all of the things I have planned for the day. Watching the way he takes it all in, and the way the corner of his mouth ticks up about halfway down the sheet, takes me out the self deprecating spiral I had been in and brings me back to the moment.

“We’re really doing this professional dog groom thing, huh?”

I nod hesitantly, still feeling a little off, and he smiles at me. I’ve seen Charlie smile many times over the years, but seeing that smile directed at me? Because of something I’ve done? I’m a goner. I lunge forward and wrap my arms around his large body, burying my head against his chest.

He seems a little shocked for a moment, but quickly recovers and starts rubbing his hand up and down my spine soothingly.

“Thanks for doing all of this. I appreciate it more than you know. Means a lot,” he says into my hair.

“Thanks for telling me I’m perfect.”

“Anytime.”

“I’m going to quote you on that. Next time Alana and I are trying to plan where to eat and you’re the tie-breaker, you have to vote for me. If I’m perfect, then so are my dinner choices.”

His chest moves beneath me when he chuckles softly and I pull back to look at him. His eyes twinkle in a way I don’t think I’ve seen in the over ten years that I’ve known him.

“Okay, well we might as well get started then, I brought you a coffee.” He hands it to me, then nods his head towards where the sign I made hangs. “The banner was a nice touch.”

“Ugh, I wanted to see your reaction when you walked in.” I scrub my hands down my face and reach out for the coffee he places gently in my hands. “Thanks.” I pick up the laminated card with our schedule and make my way to the station for our first activity.

“So, painting is first. I was planning on posting everything we’re doing today on my Instagram story and tagging you so you can repost it. Does that work?”

“Do you think Alana will see?”

“She’s still blocked from my stories but not yours, hand me your phone.” I take his cell from his hand and navigate to the Instagram app and block his sister from viewing his stories. “There, now she won’t be able to see them. Once they’re expired I’ll fix it so she can see them again and won’t suspect anything. She’s not on social media that much right now with how busy they’ve been, but better safe than sorry.”

He nods and takes the phone from my hands.

“You’re going to have to show me how to repost.”

“I’ll help you, grandpa,” I say and pat his back a few times. He rolls his eyes and scoffs at me.

I hand him a plain white smock to protect his clothes, and he pulls it over his head. Despite the fact that I bought him an extra large, it still looks comically small on him. I spin him around, tying the straps in a bow on the center of his back, and work hard to hold in my laughter. He looks so out of place in this too small smock in my too small apartment. It’s endearing.

I grab my own smock, pink with hearts obviously, and turn so he can tie mine for me. Then I reach for my phone and open the app, clicking on the plus sign to add a story. I move so I’m in the path of sunlight streaming in from the window and hold down the button to record.

“Hi everyone.” My voice is an octave higher than it normally is and Charlie chuckles next to me out of frame. “Today we are helping my favorite guy find his new favorite hobby.”

I turn a little to get him in the frame with me, and instead of just standing there he slides up behind me and wraps his arms around my middle. He rests his head on my shoulder and turns his face towards me, placing a loud kiss on my cheek.

I giggle, forgetting for a second that I’m recording a video, but recover quickly.

“We’re starting with painting, so naturally he had to suit up. Give us a spin, Charles.” I double tap to switch to the back camera on my iPhone and point it at him. He gives me an exasperated look, but turns regardless.

“My name is not Charles.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I flip the camera back to me. “We’ll keep you updated on how it goes. For now, drop any hobby suggestions in the box on the screen. Maybe we’ll give them a go.”

I end the video, then type to add Charlie’s handle and a box for people to drop their ideas in before posting. He hands me his phone wordlessly, and I go through the motions of showing him how to repost on his stories.

Then, we get to work.