Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
So for me, there was nothing at all unusual about getting to know Cam through texts.
To my surprise - and unending delight, if I were being completely honest - Camden proved to be a quick and thorough responder. He also had the ability to finish his thought but pose the topic for another one so that the conversation never faltered, or fell flat on its face, leaving us both disappointed and unsure how to go on.
I hate to admit this, but I maybe became a bit obsessive about it.
Okay. Totally obsessive.
Teenage girl obsessive. Which everyone knew was the most intensive form of obsession. Fainting over rockstars obsessive. Throwing your panties on stage obsessive. Chasing down their tour bus obsessive.
Not that I faulted or stalked him, of course.
But I found myself perhaps too intent on our conversations. I would keep my phone propped up on the counter while I made dinner so that I didn't miss a single text. I yanked it out of my back pocket while grocery shopping, becoming one of those people that everyone hates who stands in the middle of the aisle, making passing impossible. I hated that person. But I became her.
Because of him.
I had even needed to lock my phone up in the nightstand in the bedroom when I had clients over because I knew that I would totally sneak looks. And while I likely wasn't the most professional of instructions - professional instructors had offices and didn't answer the door barefoot or up and leave town with no notice when she needed to - I understood and respected that people were spending their hard-earned money to get my undivided attention for the full hour they were in my apartment. So I knew I had to give it to them. And to accomplish that, my phone needed to be locked up.
The second that door was closed, I was rushing through my apartment, unlocking my phone, almost frantically swiping through to my messages.
Like a typical school girl with a crush on the hot guy at school who asked for her number.
Not that I had a crush on Cam, of course. We were just neighbors. Just people getting to know each other.
Sure, he was totally a hot guy.
But I had never been the girl who the hot guys went after. Not now. And certainly not when I was a teenager.
Back then, I was painfully shy, crushingly nerdy, my skin ravaged by a vicious case of acne, and a bit perpetually pudgy. The hot guys never noticed the acne-ridden shy girls wearing oversize clothes to hide their extra bits. Not when there were dozens of the girls with the perfectly tanned legs that went on for weeks, long, sleek, shiny hair, skin flawless and dewy, the Good Looks Gods smiling down on them every single day of their lives.
And now, well, my skin was cleared up, I had developed some people skills, and somewhere in my twenties, my weight naturally found its happy center - not skinny, but not heavy either, just average. Very, very average in every respect, that was me. But average was okay. Average girls got guys all the time. I just didn't. Mostly, these days, because I moved around too often. I was never in one place long enough to get to know someone well enough to let feelings grow.
Not that feelings were growing.
I mean... I guess they were.
But normal feelings. The kind of feelings people got because they got to know someone who was genuinely interesting and just as eager to get to know them as well.
But feelings nonetheless.
Maybe my feelings were exasperated by the fact that it had been so long since I had been able to get to know someone, since I had felt like I could let them get to know me. Just a little.
Full disclosure; loneliness had became uncomfortably familiar to me the past few months. A scratchy sweater that never softened from wear. That was what it was like. Something that could not be ignored, that was always there, annoying, niggling, reminding you that something isn't right.
It wasn't right to be so alone.
It wasn't how humans were meant to be. We're social creatures. To completely cut yourself off from others, to refuse to let anyone in, or simply not being able to, it was wrong. So it naturally felt wrong. It didn't matter how long you did it, you could never quite get used to it.
Or, at least, I never could.
I had never been someone for frivolous, surface-level interactions. What relationships I had with people - from platonic to more so - had always had a depth to them, a bond that couldn't be denied. Otherwise, I figured, what was the point?
There was always surface, though. Even to things that had depth. As such, Cam and my conversations had all started that way. Favorites. That was always an easy in. Favorite foods. Favorite movies. Favorite seasons.