Chapter 34

Henry trotted up the walk from his carport to his front door and confirmed what he thought he’d seen from the road: Cameron was sitting on his front stoop, leaning back against the door, eyes closed and a pair of headphones on. In her baggy pants and sweatshirt, she looked like a kid waiting for her parents to get home from work.

He nudged her playfully with his foot and her eyes snapped open, ready to slice through whoever was disturbing her.

So ... this isn’t a happy surprise visit then.

But they immediately softened when she saw it was Henry. She took her headphones off and put them in her backpack as she got up.

“Hey,” Henry said, slotting the key into the lock.

“Hey.”

“How long were you waiting? You coulda texted me, I woulda hurried if I knew you were just sitting here.” He opened the door for her and she went inside with a shrug.

“No big deal.”

She loped over to the couch and flopped face-first onto it, her Converse dangling over the edge. Her face was angled the other way, into the back cushions.

Henry knew better than to ask. Cameron wasn’t really a talker. But ... as long as he gave her some space, she seemed like she usually opened up a little bit. It’d been that way since the first night they’d met.

So he just went about his usual routine, changing into a more comfortable shirt and pants. Really, he was sort of flattered Cameron felt like she could come over here and just... be. He knew that took a lot of trust from her to feel that comfortable around him.

Or maybe just around Da Vinci.

That thought was only reinforced when he came back out of his bedroom to the kitchen. The cat had wormed his way underneath her arm, making himself comfortable — like he always did with her. Henry gave a small snort and started to get some stuff together to make for dinner.

He was a simple man with an Italian mother, so he always had some pasta and sauce on hand. He opted for that, taking his time.

“So,” he said, “there’s this kid in my third hour junior English class, he’s a real smartass, very scatterbrained. Comes in late sometimes, forgets stuff — otherwise, good kid, gets good grades. Pretty funny. Drew a picture of me boxing an alligator once. I dunno.

“Anyway, he comes into class late again today, like five minutes after the bell. And I’m like Nate, what’s the deal, dude. And he gets this shifty look on his face and he says, ‘uh, sorry Mr. M, I was ... fighting crime.’” Henry laughed. “Maybe not the best one I’ve heard, but probably the most creative.”

He snuck a glance back at the couch, but neither Cameron nor Da Vinci had perked up their ears or otherwise acknowledged him. He just shrugged and filled the silence with more mundane things about what had happened at school that day — dumb excuses students tried on him, a sadder aside about a student in his fourth hour class who had a very good excuse, inane directives from the administration, annoying parents.

The pair on the couch didn’t show much interest, but Henry just kept going anyway while he made dinner.

When it was ready, he prepared two plates, then, just as he was about to pour sauce on each of them, paused in the middle of some anecdote Paul had told him about one of his football players. From what little he knew of Cameron’s eating habits — besides that she generally chowed down like the wolf tattooed on her neck — she had extremely plain tastes. So he held off on the sauce.

The sudden silence, though, caused Cameron to stir, and he caught the movement of her head poking up in the corner of his vision.

“Yeah? So did he get to play?” she said, her voice soft and a little scratchy. Her eyes were ringed red and her hair was pressed against the side of her head.

Henry was shocked she’d even been listening. He was barely listening to what he’d been saying by that point. “Oh ... uh, no.” He shrugged. “Them’s the rules — gotta keep at least a C in all his classes.”

“That’s dumb.”

He shrugged again. He didn’t really care either way. “So ... you want something to eat?”

She nodded, still with that blank, vaguely dispirited look on her face, and got up, shuffling over to join him at the table. She declined any sauce, confirming his suspicions there.

He also noticed she covered her mouth when she was chewing now, like she was trying to make an effort to be more ... polite. He wasn’t sure what that was about, though it was a welcome relief.

Cameron asked him a few questions about his school, but other than that, didn’t offer much in terms of conversation as they ate.

She’ll tell me what’s up when she’s ready.

Henry was trying to remind himself that Cameron was here because she was clearly having a terrible day. Because if he didn’t keep that in mind ... it was otherwise a pretty great weeknight with his girlfriend.

He’d spent some time after dinner grading papers and she’d sat on the couch next to him with Da Vinci, a shitty sci-fi movie on in the background. Eventually he’d had enough of grading, and she was snuggled up against him now, his arm draped over the blanket that covered her, while they watched The Runaway Brain. They’d both seen it before, but she seemed to mind as little as he did.

Hanging out with Cameron was always different than hanging out with anyone else. He liked that. So much of the time they spent together — whether they were in great moods or bad moods — was quiet, without saying much. He felt like he’d gotten pretty good at understanding how she communicated, and it made him feel that much closer to her — like they had their own language they could speak in front of anyone.

Sometimes, though, words were necessary. Even for Cameron.

“Kendra’s moving out,” she finally said quietly, about halfway through the movie. The black-and-white flashed across the two of them on the couch while Henry took a second to process.

Shit, well, that definitely explains everything. Damn.

He wasn’t sure what he should say, though, so he tried to keep it simple to get her to keep going — kissing her head and pulling her a little tighter to him. “I’m sorry, Cam. Why’s she moving?”

“Cosmetology school in Sacramento,” she said, her voice not betraying much of any emotion at all, her mouth barely moving enough to enunciate the words.

Ah. Right. Makes sense. Did she ... not expect that to happen...?

Cameron went on. “I ... didn’t take it very well.”

At that, Henry was unable to keep a snort to himself, and even she laughed a little. However she’d reacted, he was sure she was underselling it. He kissed her head again, not really sure what else he could do.

“Are you two ... okay?” he said hesitantly.

She looked up at him and he could see she had a tear in the corner of her eye.

Okay so that’s a no. God knows what she did.

“I ... I know I shouldn’t be pissed,” Cameron said, separating from Henry and sitting up. “We ... we weren’t gonna live together there forever, you know?” She looked up at him, but it seemed like she was trying to tell something to herself, not Henry.

He nodded as sympathetically as he could. He knew how hard Cameron took things, especially big changes. “When does she go?”

“November.” She was absent-mindedly running her fingers along her wrist, then showed him why. “We got these,” she said, raising her wrist for him to see. The new tattoo looked a little raw still.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

She turned to him, her eyes gleaming a brighter blue than they normally did. Maybe it was how wet they were. Another tear dropped from the corner of one of them, and she nodded. He was pretty sure she didn’t mean physically.

Gently, he took her wrist and kissed it anyway, his lips lingering on the reddish skin beneath the little wolf.

He gave her a slight smile, hoping she’d return it — even just a little bit. She didn’t. Instead, she held up her arm a little higher.

“It ... it hurts here, too,” she said, pointing to the two wolves racing down the same arm.

Is that also about her and Kendra?

Henry held her arm delicately, and softly kissed his way down the length of the tattoo from her shoulder to below her elbow.

“And here,” she said quietly, not looking him in the eye, but pointing to the wolves on her other arm.

Henry complied, taking her far arm gently and kissing just as softly, just as deliberately, along its length. Her expression didn’t change much, but he could feel her start to relax a little bit.

“On ... on my back, too,” she said.

Moving the blanket to the side, he helped her out of her shirt. Her body always looked so compact, but powerful in its own way. He didn’t try to keep himself from marveling at the artwork adorning it, or the equally breathtaking canvas it was sketched on.

She didn’t seem to mind him soaking her in, either, but she lay down on the hardwood floor next to the couch to make it easier for him to get to every part of her bare back.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable?” he said as he straddled her legs, gently kissing the stars on her back, then the wolves — one by one.

She didn’t answer until he was finished with the tattoos on her back, and even then just pointed to the ones on her legs.

Henry was happy to help however he could — and certainly wasn’t going to say no if it involved kissing Cameron all over her slender body.

She angled up to let him slide off her pants and underwear, then lay flat again while he performed the same ritual on the vines, dragon, and wolf that covered her legs.

When he finished, she turned over — naked before him on the wooden floor — and pointed to the wolf’s mouth on her neck and the upper part of her chest. Her eyes still had a sadness to them, but were twinged with a hungry anticipation.

In truth, he felt it, too. Yes, her body was plenty on its own to make him want her anywhere, anytime. But right now, he was driven by the desire to help her feel just a little bit better — or at least a little less alone — however he could.