Look at You

Chapter 16

16

Big Al's is better than we remember it. We sit in silence for the first time all day, gorging ourselves on crispy breaded chicken, one large cup of Frank's hot sauce balanced between us.

"Oh my god." Cam finishes first. "It's so fucking good."

I nod because that's the only thing I can do right now. One, because I'm still knee-deep in the chicken. And two, because the way Cam says fucking makes me forget my own name.

When I've taken my last bite, I tell him, "Best birthday ever."

He finds my eyes, smirks, then shakes his head. "I don't understand why you didn't tell me."

I shrug, wiping chicken dust off my jeans. "Not a big deal."

"Well fine, but we're celebrating later. With cake or beer or something."

Alice's voice from this morning is suddenly in my head. Do not forget to invite Cam to your dinner tomorrow. Seriously, Simon or I'll do it myself.

I have explicitly decided not to invite Cameron to my family and close friends birthday dinner for a few reasons. The first being my family's birthday traditions are more than mildly embarrassing. The second being I don't want to freak him out and make him think that I think we're much closer than we actually are, because we're not that close, really. I see him for coffee and sometimes go to happy hours with him and that's all. We're friends. Not intimate- birthday-dinner friends.

But of course, I didn't say that to Alice this morning. I just nodded and gave her a half-hearted sure thing, which means I need to do my best in keeping her away from Cam for the next 24 hours. Or she'll do it herself.

"Beer," I say. "Lotta beer."

I'm already on my third. I don't know if it's because he has to drive everywhere, but I suspiciously outpace Cam whenever we're drinking. He only drinks beer, and I've really only seen him do it a handful of times. But he isn't one of those people that's weird about it. He lets me slug Blue Moons without a judgmental word, phrase, or look in his eye. It's refreshing.

"Sounds like a plan."

The Penguins are up by 3 at the start of the third period and it's hockey, which means they're going to win. I'd be willing to part with this stadium and hit a bar, and by the dull look in Cam's eye, I'd say he is too.

I turn to face him.

"Would you want to—"

"Yes. Let's go." He's standing before I can even laugh about how in sync we are. It apparently doesn't faze Cam, who is busy picking all my 20-ounce beer cans up off the floor. I reach down to help him, but he swats my hand away.

It's much easier getting out of the stadium than getting in. We fly down the steps and out the back door of the arena and land directly in front of the parking lot where Cam parked. He's six steps ahead of me because his legs are longer and he's not wearing a real jacket. When he reaches the car, he pulls open the passenger side door before weaving around to get in himself.

The heat's already blasting by the time I buckle in. "Where to?" I ask, like he knows Pittsburgh.

He puts one hand on the back of my seat as he turns around to back out, even though he has a backup camera. "Don't know, figured we'd stop someplace that looked interesting. Sound okay?"

"I love a little spontaneity."

He chuckles, brushing my shoulder as he puts his hand back on the wheel.