“I’m not embarrassed it was you,” I say again. “I’m grateful.”

He shrugs, avoiding my gaze. “It’s fine. It was a lifetime ago. And I’m glad it was you.”

The breeze picks up and a stream of awkwardness grows between us, thick and roiling. Everything between Cameron Riggs and me has always felt at once insignificant and extraordinary. We were kids. It was only a crush. It was just sex.

I swallow thickly, knowing none of it was that simple.

“We should get inside before Lyle comes looking,” he says softly, turning to go. Something in his tone is off and once upon a time I would have known what it was, but right now, I’m lost.

“Okay,” I say quietly. But he’s already gone.

7

CAMERON

GIRLS LIKE YOU

I wake up too early on Saturday, with a headache and a text from Lyle.

LYLE: On my way back to LA, looking forward to the b roll

I don’t bother responding. We haven’t even begun, and I’m already exhausted by his shit. More than anything, I’m annoyed that I subjected myself to this whole thing. I’ve spent years distancing myself from Shelby and Lyle, and in one fell swoop, I’m tangled up all over again.

In the basest of terms, I was apparently her practice fuck. Not only that. I was her secret practice fuck. At least it was only once. At least by the time I was in my twenties, I knew better.

Know better. I just need to follow through. Put some professional space between us. Remind eighteen-year-old Cameron that she’s trouble for us.

It’s only one pilot, I tell myself. Just enough time to renovate some dusty old home and patch things up … between me and my dad? Me and my brother? Me and Shelby?

Pick a number. I have a whole lot of patching up to do and not a lot of time, which may or may not be by design. How much grief and destruction can I cause in only a few short months?

I roll out of bed, setting a pot of coffee to brew, and start the shower, immediately turning it as hot as I can handle, letting the water pressure work at my pounding skull and shoulders. It’s not that I drank a lot of whiskey last night, but I drank it for a long time.

I get out, dry off, and get dressed. By the time I pour myself some coffee, I’m calling my mom. She picks up on the first ring, even though it’s barely eight.

“Hey, kid,” she chirps through the speaker.

“Hey, Ma. I was thinking of coming out today. You gonna be around?”