just be… done?
The waitress came back with their food. Cold tea sloshed and spilled onto the table but no one moved to clean it up.
Cameron bit his bottom lip and focused his attention on anything that wasn't Imogen. He picked up his burger, already falling apart, and before taking a colossal bite out of it, muttered, "No."
The words left his mouth but he pondered how large the part in him was that didn't want to be alone and how large the part of him was that told Imogen what she wanted to hear.
She seemed appeased, anyway. For the moment.
"What?" he snapped, his mouth full of food. She watched him with eager eyes as he ate.
She shrugged at him and smiled. "I just wanted to see if the food was any good."
"So why don't you find out for yourself?"
"I thought you said you weren't hungry."
He glared. "I changed my mind."
"Don't you have any other moods besides annoyed and angry?" She cocked her head to the side and studied him.
Cameron rolled his eyes and took another bite out of the burger. "Do you do anything else besides pester people?"
Imogen laughed and took a sip of her tea. It was cold and made her throat constrict. "Depends on what your philosophy in life is. See, you call it pestering, but someone like Todd, for example, might call it being friendly."
"How many times are we going to establish that Todd is a madman? He's on your level. Of course he's going to call you friendly. Crazy people don't know they're crazy and crazy people don't know when other people are crazy."
"You speak highly of your friends. Perhaps that's why you have so many of them."
Cameron's face dropped. Ouch. She pinned him.
Not for long.
"Something about me is charming. I can't seem to get you away from me. Tell me what it is you see in me so that I might change it."
"I wish I knew."
She knew exactly why, but Imogen would be damned if she was going to tell Cameron just yet.
"Yeah, well I wish you knew, too."
Cameron's long, slim fingers wrapped around the dark red plastic cup and brought it to his mouth, where he took a long gulp of iced tea. Condensation fell from its sides and settled into a small pool on the table.
Hostility seemed to roll off of him in waves, even in his most simple of actions.
"What do your parents do, Cameron?"
He set his glass down and shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he laughed. "Just like it doesn't matter what I do, or what you do, or what that waitress over there does," he pointed. "All of it is pointless."
"Come on," Imogen kicked him on the shin under the table. "Tell me."
"Um, ow ." He made a face and kicked her back.
"Ow!" She pealed, grabbing hold of her aching shin and banging her knee on the table as she brought her leg up. "Come on, tell me. Tell me. Tell. Me."
Cameron looked around hastily, afraid they were being watched. A scene would be just what he needed right now. "Okay, okay. Jesus. My mother's a sex therapist and my dad is a psychologist. Now would you shut up?"
"Interesting."
"Not really." Cameron stabbed his fork into his french fries and Imogen drew her brow. "When you're thirteen and your mother catches you…" His voice quieted and he made a loose fist with his hand at the same time he made eye contact with her. Imogen watched as his face reddened ever so slightly. Realization hit her and she was caught between amusement and sorrow for him.
"Well," he continued, "it's not a fun experience having to memorize both male and female anatomy afterward only to be followed up with a mature and responsible," he air-quoted, "conversation about sexual intercourse. Top that off with my father trying to talk to me about how it made me feel to be caught and how it made me feel to have a sex therapist for a mom and blah blah blah. It made me feel like shit, is what it did."
Imogen's jaw dropped. It wasn't at the fact that Cameron's story was a bit embarrassing, though entertaining, in a way, for her that surprised her, but rather that Cameron, knowing it or not, had actually
The waitress came back with their food. Cold tea sloshed and spilled onto the table but no one moved to clean it up.
Cameron bit his bottom lip and focused his attention on anything that wasn't Imogen. He picked up his burger, already falling apart, and before taking a colossal bite out of it, muttered, "No."
The words left his mouth but he pondered how large the part in him was that didn't want to be alone and how large the part of him was that told Imogen what she wanted to hear.
She seemed appeased, anyway. For the moment.
"What?" he snapped, his mouth full of food. She watched him with eager eyes as he ate.
She shrugged at him and smiled. "I just wanted to see if the food was any good."
"So why don't you find out for yourself?"
"I thought you said you weren't hungry."
He glared. "I changed my mind."
"Don't you have any other moods besides annoyed and angry?" She cocked her head to the side and studied him.
Cameron rolled his eyes and took another bite out of the burger. "Do you do anything else besides pester people?"
Imogen laughed and took a sip of her tea. It was cold and made her throat constrict. "Depends on what your philosophy in life is. See, you call it pestering, but someone like Todd, for example, might call it being friendly."
"How many times are we going to establish that Todd is a madman? He's on your level. Of course he's going to call you friendly. Crazy people don't know they're crazy and crazy people don't know when other people are crazy."
"You speak highly of your friends. Perhaps that's why you have so many of them."
Cameron's face dropped. Ouch. She pinned him.
Not for long.
"Something about me is charming. I can't seem to get you away from me. Tell me what it is you see in me so that I might change it."
"I wish I knew."
She knew exactly why, but Imogen would be damned if she was going to tell Cameron just yet.
"Yeah, well I wish you knew, too."
Cameron's long, slim fingers wrapped around the dark red plastic cup and brought it to his mouth, where he took a long gulp of iced tea. Condensation fell from its sides and settled into a small pool on the table.
Hostility seemed to roll off of him in waves, even in his most simple of actions.
"What do your parents do, Cameron?"
He set his glass down and shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he laughed. "Just like it doesn't matter what I do, or what you do, or what that waitress over there does," he pointed. "All of it is pointless."
"Come on," Imogen kicked him on the shin under the table. "Tell me."
"Um, ow ." He made a face and kicked her back.
"Ow!" She pealed, grabbing hold of her aching shin and banging her knee on the table as she brought her leg up. "Come on, tell me. Tell me. Tell. Me."
Cameron looked around hastily, afraid they were being watched. A scene would be just what he needed right now. "Okay, okay. Jesus. My mother's a sex therapist and my dad is a psychologist. Now would you shut up?"
"Interesting."
"Not really." Cameron stabbed his fork into his french fries and Imogen drew her brow. "When you're thirteen and your mother catches you…" His voice quieted and he made a loose fist with his hand at the same time he made eye contact with her. Imogen watched as his face reddened ever so slightly. Realization hit her and she was caught between amusement and sorrow for him.
"Well," he continued, "it's not a fun experience having to memorize both male and female anatomy afterward only to be followed up with a mature and responsible," he air-quoted, "conversation about sexual intercourse. Top that off with my father trying to talk to me about how it made me feel to be caught and how it made me feel to have a sex therapist for a mom and blah blah blah. It made me feel like shit, is what it did."
Imogen's jaw dropped. It wasn't at the fact that Cameron's story was a bit embarrassing, though entertaining, in a way, for her that surprised her, but rather that Cameron, knowing it or not, had actually
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