Chapter 11: Camille - Love On Time

My eyes sting as I try to force them open, the bright morning sunlight blinding me through my closed eyelids. A dull thumping ache pulses at my temples, and the memories from last night slam into my chest. It was exactly what it looked like. My vision comes into focus when I slip my glasses on, and I take in my surroundings, noticing that I’m alone in the room. Drew must have snuck out earlier, giving me the privacy to wake up on my own terms. Just as I let out a breath, the rich, comforting smell of coffee takes over my senses. I look over to my nightstand and find a steaming mug waiting for me. He must have just dropped it off, minutes before I woke up. Feeling a deep wave of gratitude, I reach out and take a small, satisfying sip. A warmth washes through my body the second the caffeine hits my system. As I set the mug back down, a folded-up piece of notebook paper catches my eye. I pick it up, recognizing his handwriting immediately.

* * *

Back at Ivy’s suite, Cooper sneaks out to get ready in the guys' room with the groomsmen, finally leaving us girls completely alone. The other bridesmaids are a mix of Ivy’s friends from college and her nursing program, and they are all kind and welcoming. They start off by making a massive batch of Liquid I.V. mocktails, forcing them into our hands to rehydrate us after drinking all afternoon in the sweltering ninety-degree sun.

I couldn't be more grateful. Hopefully, the electrolytes will help me avoid a brutal hangover in the morning, but honestly? Right now, I’m craving a night of total, reckless fun. I just want to let go and be entirely in the moment. It’s not every day I have a huge group of people dragging me out to party. Being a librarian doesn't exactly bring a wild crowd running to your doorstep, so tonight feels rare and thrilling.

After washing the sand and sunscreen from my skin, I style my hair into loose waves. I take my time on my makeup for once, blending out a dark smoky shadow that accentuates the bright blue in my eyes. I decide on a mini, thin-strapped black bodycon dress that dips low at the chest, hugging every curve. I throw a classic denim jacket over my shoulders and, to stay true to my own style, I lace up my favorite black high-top Converse.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I take in the rest of the room. All of us girls are coordinated in black, creating a perfect frame for Ivy. She’s in a white mini dress and a hair clip with a small, bouncy veil. She looks stunning. We look cohesive and hot, and a thrill runs through my veins.

Our Uber pulls up at our first stop in town, a karaoke bar overflowing with summer tourists. We push our way through the dense and boisterous crowd, eventually claiming a tall table near the center of the room. Ivy orders a round of tequila shots to start the night out right. We lean against the high-top, talking and taking in our surroundings as a couple terribly screeches out a pop song onstage.

“Are you ready for tonight?” Ivy asks, yelling directly into my ear over the roar of the crowd.

“I’m ready,” I smile, adjusting the hem of my dress.

“Good, because it begins now.” She smirks.

A big group of guys flood our table. The second they arrive, Cooper snatches Ivy up by the waist, pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss as if being away from her for a few hours were a crime. Alex and Christian crowd around me, pulling me into warm, welcoming hugs. Over their shoulders, my eyes find Drew. He flashes me a soft, slow smile, and I return the gesture, the air between us suddenly feeling a little tighter.

He’s wearing a tight white shirt that hugs his arms and chest just right. And that stupid backward hat that makes my knees turn to jello. He looks so good it hurts.

Seconds later, the group of old high school friends walk into the bar, engaging in laughter, pulling me back into the present.

“Line 'em up!” Cooper yells to the bartender, ordering another round of shots for the table.

Two shots of tequila in an hour? This is going to turn bad very quickly if I'm not careful.

Just as the fresh glasses reach our table, the announcer’s voice booms over the microphone. “Up next, we have a special bridal duet! Give it up for Ivy and Camille Benson!”

My head snaps toward Ivy. She instantly bursts out laughing.

“No, no, no!” I shake my head furiously, a sudden wave of hot embarrassment creeping up my neck. This is my nightmare, stage fright mixed with a large crowd will result in me emptying the contents of my stomach all over the stage.

“Oh, come on, Cami.” Cooper teases, shoving a glass into my hand. “Toss that shot back and get your butt up there!”

Needing the liquid courage, I do exactly that and toss the tequila back in one swift motion. I swallow hard, praying the alcohol kicks in fast enough to numb my crippling anxiety. Ivy reaches her hand out across the table, her eyes sparkling.

“Ivy,” I whine, letting her drag me into the sea of people.

“Cam, trust me. Just have fun,” she says, leaning close as we head toward the steps. “Confidence is sexy, so go up there and just let go.”

Her words hit me like a splash of cold water. She’s right though, this is exactly what I came here to do. I need to put myself out there. I need to stop hiding.

“What if I don't even know the song?” I cry out as we reach the stage stairs.

Ivy climbs the first step, throwing a wicked grin over her shoulder. “Trust me, you know the song.”

The entire group makes their way to the front of the stage, and my heart drops to my stomach. A wave of nausea rises, and my nerves start to overwhelm me as I stare out at the sea of faces. Sensing my panic, Ivy leans in and whispers in my ear, “Just look at me, okay?” I give her a slow nod. She turns and gives the DJ a confident nod to start the track. The speakers rumble, and the loud, upbeat tune of ABBA’s Dancing Queen begins to play.

I stifle a laugh, shaking my head. Only Ivy would choose this song. She flashes me a wide, encouraging smile, and I can't help but smile back. And then, I just do it. I open my mouth and belt out the lyrics right alongside my best friend—the girl who came into my life and changed it for the better. The bar goes wild, cheering and whistling as the energy in the room shifts.

“That's my girl!” Cooper yells from the front row.

“Go, Cami!” The bridesmaids scream in unison, sending a wave of confidence straight through me.

Ivy and I lock hands, facing each other and swaying to the beat as we pour everything we have into the lyrics. Feeling a sudden surge of boldness, I nervously sneak a glance out past the stage lights. My eyes find Drew. He’s standing right there, his fingers lightly resting against his lips, with the biggest, most captivated grin on his face. He isn't looking at anyone else. As the final chorus of the song rings through the speakers, Ivy suddenly kneels in front of me, holding her hands up for me to grab so she can twirl me around her. She is intentionally giving me all the attention for the big finale. It is the most selfless, beautiful thing she could do at her own bachelorette party.

The song strikes its final note, and the entire bar erupts into applause. Ivy jumps up, throwing her arms around me as we laugh and take a bow together.

“You guys killed it!” Cooper buzzes, and we all stumble out of the karaoke bar to make our way to the next destination.

I’m on a total high, feeling proud of myself for doing something so far out of my comfort zone. I can't seem to take the smile off my face. My mood has completely transformed.

We hand our IDs to the bouncer outside a packed, exclusive nightclub, the muffled hum of loud music and the glow of flashing strobe lights greeting us every time the door swings open. Once we make it past security, our group heads straight for the bar. Desperate for water, I down a full glass before ordering a margarita on the rocks. I finish it in a few thirsty swallows. Before I can even set my glass down, a bunch of the bridesmaids pull me out onto the crowded dance floor with them.

The alcohol is buzzing through my veins now, making me feel wonderfully light, my mind emptier than it has been all week. My only goal is to have fun and dance with these girls. I’m swaying my hips, running my hands through my hair, feeling out of control in the best way possible. We all drop it low, our movements guided entirely by the pounding bass.

Sudden heat presses up against my back. A solid body slides into my space, wrapping two hands around my waist and effortlessly matching the movement of my swaying hips. I turn my head slightly over my shoulder, finding Christian dancing into me. His eyes are dark and wanting.

“I was expecting our first dance to be at the reception,” he says, lowering his head to whisper in my ear. “But this is so much more fun.”

“Well, lucky you,” I say. I lean my head back against his chest, the alcohol making me feel as if I'm floating. Feeling wanted sends sparks racing through my whole body. Christian slides his hands down the lengths of my bare arms, guiding my waist till I’m pressed flush against him. But the contact doesn’t do what it’s supposed to do. Feeling his body harden beneath mine, a sudden wave of tension locks up my muscles. His touch causes a twisting knot of nausea to roll straight through my stomach. I feel like I'm going to be sick. Realizing I don't want this, I turn smoothly to face him, stepping out of his hold and creating distance between us. I keep swaying to the music, but now I’m dancing for myself, and only myself.

My eyes instinctively fall to the bar, as if my mind knew where to find him. He’s leaning against the counter, watching me with a dark, burning stare. Anger and desire radiate off of him, sending a shiver down my spine. I purposely turn my body at an angle toward him. A sudden thrill jolts through my chest. I let my hips sway to the bass of what feels like the sexiest song I’ve ever heard. I keep my eyes locked on his as if I'm giving him a private show. For a moment, the crowded dance floor disappears around me, leaving what feels like only the two of us in the room. He hasn't taken his eyes off of me as he carefully scans every inch of my body.

A slow, knowing smile lights up Drew's face, his throat bobbing as he wets his lips. He knows exactly what I’m doing, and I know exactly what he’s thinking. I flash him a small, challenging smile back, a rush of euphoria exploding through my veins.

It’s 1:00 AM by the time we leave the club. Drew has a steadying grip on my arm so I don't collapse on the sidewalk as we walk out into the cool night air. Ivy and Cooper had disappeared sometime during our final hour at the club, and the bridesmaids had already caught an Uber back to the estate. Christian and Alex stroll out the double doors, laughing.

“Here’s her bag,” Christian says, tossing my purse to Drew. He pats him firmly on the shoulder. “Good luck, Romeo. She’s all yours.” The second they walk away, I try to escape his hold and stumble as I do.

“Easy,” Drew murmurs, swiftly catching me and pulling me back into the safety of his chest.

“I’m fine,” I lie, my voice muffled against his jacket.

“Cami, you almost face-planted into the pavement.” Drew chuckles softly.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don't." He says, his voice low.

I let out a heavy sigh, deflating against him. “I know.”

We make it back to the estate, still feeling the dizzying buzz of the alcohol, but I'm sober enough to walk in a relatively straight line. Drew swipes his keycard to our room, throwing the door open. I collapse onto the edge of my mattress, clumsily wrestling with the laces of my Converse. Drew kneels down on the floor before me. He gently takes over, unties the laces, and helps me slip out of them. I reach for a pair of pajamas, lying at the top of my open suitcase. His dark eyes track the movement of my fingers as I reach for the zipper of my dress. He swallows hard, suddenly rising to his feet and spinning around to face the opposite wall, giving me privacy to change.

“You don't have to turn around,” I whisper in the dim amber light of the small lamp on Drew's nightstand.

He pauses, his shoulders rigid. “Yes, I do.” He takes a slow breath. “You're still drunk, Cami.”

A sharp tug pulls tightly in my chest. He only turned around because I'm drunk. He thinks I want a barrier between us, which is so far from the truth.

Fully dressed, I walk over to the mini fridge and pull out a cold bottle of water. Losing my balance on my way back to my bed, I start to tumble toward the ground when Drew lunges to catch me, but the quick movement carries us both down. We crash onto the mattress together.

Suddenly, he is hovering over me. As our eyes meet in the dim light, the air is sucked straight out of the room. I swallow hard, my chest rising and falling from the adrenaline coursing through my body. He is dangerously close to my face.

“Why do you still look at me like that?”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn't move a muscle, his weight still hovering above mine. “Like what?”

“Like you want to kiss me?” I breathe.

“Because I do.”

My eyes fall to his lips, wanting to eliminate the small gap between us. I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Unable to take the agony of the distance any longer, I lean up, tilting my mouth closer to his to let him close the final gap. But he doesn't.

“Cami.” He whispers, voice torn and ragged. “Not like this.”

I freeze, pulling back slowly with pure embarrassment from the rejection.

“I don't want you to regret it in the morning.” He lets out a heavy breath, staring into my eyes. “I’ve waited too long for this moment. I’m not going to let it happen while you're drunk.”

He slowly pulls himself off me. The cold chill of the air conditioning hits my flushed skin the moment his body leaves mine. He thinks about kissing me? For how long?

Before I can process the weight of this realization, he slips into the bathroom to get ready for bed. I crawl beneath the warm covers, my head spinning in circles as I lie completely still in the dark. My chest tightens, tears threatening to fall. A few minutes later, the bathroom light cuts out. I hear his mattress creak as he climbs into his own bed across the room.

For the second night in a row, a silence stretches between us, unbearable and agonizing.

“Drew?” I call out softly.

“Yeah?”

“You should have fought for me,” I whisper, my voice finally cracking under the weight of the confession.

There is a long pause in the darkness. The pain of our past fills the space of this small suite. Maybe he’s fallen asleep. I’m about to turn away when his reply cuts through the room.

“Trust me, Cami… I know.”