10 Years Later Read online

  “Fine,” John said with an evil smile. “If you won’t tell us about a bad first date, then we’ll talk about high school.”

  I almost choked on my own spit. “High school? What about it?” Heat filled my entire body as I attempted to fight back the rush of pure adrenaline that always came from speaking live to the hundreds of thousands of people who listened each morning.

  Tom nodded, his eyes gleaming. “A little birdie told us that your ten-year reunion is happening this weekend. Are you going?”

  Damn it. How’d they find out about that?

  My mind instantly flashed to the two guys I associated with my high school days, my father and Dalton, and my stomach turned at the thought of them both but for different reasons. As I silently wondered which of my coworkers had ratted me out, John cleared his throat impatiently, forcing me to answer.

  “Yeah, I’m going. Of course,” I said, as if there was any other choice in the matter.

  They both oohed and aahed like immature teenage boys. “Hoping to see a special someone, Cammie?” Tom asked, his over-whitened teeth practically blinding me as he smiled.

  My cheeks warmed and I knew I was blushing. I wished I could stop it because the moment they saw that happening, they’d attack me like sharks circling their prey. Anything for a good show, especially if it meant embarrassing me.

  “Oh, she’s blushing! Look at her cheeks!” Tom yelled as John jumped in. “Okay, Cammie, no one turns that shade of red if there isn’t a story to tell. Tell us! Who is he?”

  “Am I red? I’m not red, am I?” I sputtered, attempting to bullshit my way out of this uncomfortable topic. “I’m just excited to see everyone! I swear,” I lied, and prayed they wouldn’t call me on it.

  “There isn’t one guy that you’re hoping will be there?”

  “You didn’t have a crush on anyone back in high school?”

  I averted my eyes, trying to keep what little secrets I still had to myself. “Nope. I didn’t even really date in high school.” That statement was the truth, and I found myself growing more nervous with each second that passed.

  “I think you’re lying, Cammie,” Tom teased.

  John nodded. “She’s definitely lying, Tom.”

  “I swear! I was more hung up on boys in bands than I was on boys I actually went to school with.” That wasn’t an entire lie. I did have a crush on one guy from a boy band for most of my teenage years. Who didn’t?

  “Maybe someone from Cammie’s high school can call in and tell us who you think she’s excited to see,” Tom suggested. “’Cause there’s definitely something she’s not telling us!”

  I sucked in a quick breath, but then remembered that no one from high school knew about me and Dalton. Except my best friend, Kristy, and she’d never throw me under the bus by calling in to the show.

  “No one’s going to call because there’s nothing to tell.”

  I said the words, praying they’d be true as I stared at the phone line buttons, watching all of them flashing simultaneously. Glancing out the divider window, I noted an intern sitting at my seat, fielding the phone calls in my absence. He didn’t look particularly enthused, so I figured none of the calls coming in were about me.

  The guys bantered back and forth, the conversation flowing effortlessly between them due to years of working together. They quickly moved from “worst first dates” to “high school crushes.”

  “What about you, John? Did you have a crush on someone in high school?” Tom asked, as if he didn’t know the answer.

  “Uh, yeah. I married her, dummy,” John said sarcastically, because anyone who was a regular listener already knew that he was married to his high school sweetheart.

  “Lucky bastard,” Tom whispered into the mic. “Enough about John, we want to hear all about your high school love, or obsession, or reveal your crush with us on the air. Call us or text us with your stories.”

  “But let’s get back to Cammie.” John looked up at the computer screen and his eyes lit up. “Uh-oh, hold on a second. We have a caller from your high school on the line. Hello, Debbie, are you there?”

  Crap.

  “I’m here,” a girl said with a giggle, and I narrowed my eyes, trying to place the name with a face from my high school years.

  “Okay, Debbie, did you go to school with Cammie?”

  More giggling. “Uh-huh.”

  “All right.” John lifted his eyebrows and mouthed wow at me, but I was too busy freaking out. “So, are you going to the reunion this weekend?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for anything! I can’t wait!” she practically screamed into the phone.

  “Sounds like you’re excited to see a special someone too. But, Debbie, let me ask you this. Who do you think Cammie is dying to see there?”

  “I think she’s excited to see David Lampson. I know I am,” she said breathily, and I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped.

  “Ooh, is that him? Are you excited to see David Lampson?” All eyes turned to stare at me.

  “No! I mean, no offense, David, if you’re listening, but not really. He wasn’t my type.”

  David was definitely all looks and no brains, which had always been a turnoff to me. I liked good-looking guys as much as the next girl, but I needed more than just a pretty face. Call me crazy.

  “Any other guesses, Debbie?”

  “Um, I’m not sure. I don’t remember Cammie dating anyone, but she did hang out with the baseball team and stuff, so maybe it’s one of them?”

  “Thanks for the call, Debbie.” John pressed a button, disconnecting her. “Have fun tomorrow,” he continued, speaking as if she were still on the line. “So, Cammie. The baseball team?”

  “I hung out with the guys on the team because I played softball. All the girls did. It was like a sports bonding thing.”

  “Oh, I bet you bonded, all right,” Tom added.

  “Seriously?” I shot back, feeling ridiculous.

  “Just tell us who it is,” he insisted, and I knew they weren’t going to give up anytime soon. “Or at least admit that there’s someone you want to see.”

  I glared across the desk at them. “Fine.”

  “I knew it! There is someone you can’t wait to see!” Tom shouted, his hands waving in the air.

  I shrugged and said noncommittally, “There might be someone.”

  “Does he know?” John asked.

  “Does he know what?” I smirked, wanting to make the guys work for any information I would be forced to reveal.

  John gave me a frustrated glare, urging me to play along. “Does he know that you can’t wait to see him. And that you love him?”

  “I do not love him.” I breathed into the microphone, already exasperated with this conversation. “And no, he probably has no idea. I’m sure he’s forgotten all about me,” I admitted, the small truth escaping from my betraying mouth.

  Tom shook his head wildly. “No way! Any guy who could forget about you is an idiot, Cammie.”

  “Yeah,” John chimed in. “I’d be counting down the days until I could see you again.”

  “Ten years is a lot of days to count,” I said with a smile.

  “I don’t know about you, John, but I want to hear about this guy. What’s he doing now?”

  My heart raced as beads of sweat formed on unmentionable parts of my body. “I don’t know what he’s doing now. I don’t even know if he’ll be there or not.”

  “You didn’t keep in touch over the years?” John prodded.

  “Nope.”

  “You’re hopeless, girl.”

  “Trust me, I know.”

  “Let’s look him up online. What’s his name?” Tom winked, and I felt my face completely drop as I stayed silent.

  John’s face brightened. “Cammie, let’s try to find him. It will be fun!”

  “Fun for who, exactly?” I choked out as I secretly plotted their deaths.

  “For everyone listening, obviously.”

  “Are we done yet?” I wh
ined, wanting this to end.

  All this talk about high school, about who I liked and who I hung out with, was starting to bring me down. Tom and John had no idea how much it hurt to mentally go back to a time that wasn’t filled with only pretty memories. It was a time when I experienced the most painful loss of my life, and even after all these years, just thinking about it broke my heart all over again. I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe.

  “Cammie, we’re just worried about you,” Tom said with a giant smirk that didn’t match his concerned tone at all. He was good at his job, which was essentially acting.

  Sucking in a quick breath, I attempted to play along. “Why are you worried about me?”

  “First of all, Los Angeles, Cammie is a really pretty girl. And for as long as we’ve known her, she’s been single. So we used to think there was something wrong with her, but so far, we can’t figure it out. We think she’s pretty normal.”

  I felt my cheeks flush with warmth again and wished I could hide behind something, but there was nowhere to go. “Because I’m single, there has to be something wrong with me?” I rolled my eyes before glaring at Tom.

  “It just doesn’t make any sense,” John added.

  “Maybe I just haven’t met the right guy yet? It’s not that easy to find your match in LA, you know,” I admitted as the honest truth spilled from my lips.

  “You’re getting old, girl,” Tom said with a chortle.

  “I’m not old!” I shouted. “Oh my gosh, I’m twenty-seven! And we’re in Los Angeles, not Kansas! Twenty-seven is not old!”

  “It’s kinda old.” Tom looked at John.

  “She is almost thirty,” John said before making a shuddering sound.

  “I hate you both,” I spat out. “So much.”

  “We knew it!” they shouted in unison.

  I stood up from the desk and removed my headphones, placing them down gently under the microphone, signaling to them that I was done being picked on for one morning.

  “One more thing, Cammie,” Tom said, and I turned to face him. “Are you bringing a date to the reunion?”

  I leaned back toward the microphone. “Yeah.” I paused before adding, “My best friend, Kristy.”

  “All right, Los Angeles, keep those calls and texts coming!” John called out before pushing the button that started the next ninety seconds of commercials.

  Tom pulled off his headphones and sent me a knowing look. “I should send an intern to follow you around with a recorder for the show on Monday.”

  “Don’t you dare!” I shot back. “I love this job, but I can’t have someone recording me at my freaking ten-year reunion.” I glared at him, knowing that these two would do pretty much anything for their listeners.

  “So, who’s the guy?” John said as he took a bite out of a jelly doughnut, the powdered sugar sticking on his chin.

  I decided to level with them. “I haven’t seen him since graduation, okay?”

  “Really? Like since the day of graduation?”

  “Yeah. And talking about him is killing me. You have to stop. Please.”

  I hoped that little bit of information and my honest feelings would be enough to get them to lay off of me for now. If they somehow found out about Dalton and mentioned his name for all of LA to hear, I’d shrivel up into a ball and die right there on the radio station floor.

  Then they’d really have something to talk about.

  Shut the Hell Up

  Dalton

  Sitting on stakeout in an unmarked police car with my partner, Tucker, I turned up the volume on the radio dial.

  “Why do you make me suffer through this shit every morning?” Tucker asked as he took another sip from the biggest coffee mug I’d ever seen in my life. I swore it was the size of a Big Gulp. How he drank at least two of those every day and didn’t keel over from a heart attack was beyond me.

  “Old habits,” I lied, acting like listening to this show was nothing more than continuing what I’d done since I was a kid.

  “Then let’s make new ones.” He reached for the radio, and I smacked his giant Neanderthal hands away. Tucker was a hulk of a man at six feet four inches tall. It was a wonder he was hired to go undercover; it wasn’t like the guy could hide very well. But he was good at his job, despite his size.

  “Don’t touch my fucking radio. I drive, I pick the station. You can choose what we listen to when you drive.” I glared at him, pretending to be pissed, but enjoying the opportunity to give him a little shit.

  “But I never drive!” he shouted, and I laughed because it was true. As long as we were partners on this case, I drove and we listened to this radio station. End of story. “And we’re not even driving now,” he added under his breath, sounding a bit like he was pouting.

  “Cammie, Cammie get in here.”

  The sound of her name flowing through the car speakers caused me to sit up taller in the driver’s seat. I instinctively reached for the volume button again and clicked it up two more notches.

  “Ah, man. Here we go.” Tucker rolled his eyes like a little bitch, and I smacked his shoulder with the back of my hand.

  “Shut up, or so help me God . . . ,” I threatened.

  “Why don’t you just call her already? Let’s go down to the radio station and arrest her,” he said, and I couldn’t hear anything that Cammie was saying.

  “I can’t just call her after ten years. Now, shut up so I can hear what she’s saying,” I growled.

  “Yeah, I’m going. Of course,” she said, answering a question I could only assume had to do with our ten-year reunion this weekend.

  “Hoping to see a special someone, Cammie?”

  My stomach clenched as I waited for her answer, hoping that she might mention me. It was a foolish thing to hope; of course she wouldn’t say my name. But that didn’t stop me from wanting it.

  “Oh, she’s blushing! Look at her cheeks!”

  “Okay, Cammie, no one turns that shade of red if there isn’t a story to tell. Tell us! Who is he?”

  “Am I red? I’m not red, am I?”

  I could still picture her face and the way she would avoid eye contact when she got embarrassed or uncomfortable. A smile tried to find its way to my lips, but I shoved it back.

  “I’m just excited to see everyone! I swear.”

  “There isn’t one guy that you’re hoping will be there?”

  “You didn’t have a crush on anyone back in high school?”

  “Nope. I didn’t even really date in high school.”

  I turned the radio back down. As much as I loved hearing Cammie’s voice after all these years, it killed me to know that she didn’t give a shit about me. Hearing her say it out loud for everyone to hear was a little soul crushing, even after all this time.

  “Tough break, buddy,” Tucker said in his thick New York accent.

  “I don’t know what I expected,” I admitted, feeling defeated.

  “You figured that the chick you can’t get over might still be hung up on you too,” he said, his face smug.

  “I guess.”

  “You guess? Don’t play it cool with me. That’s exactly what you expected. You’ve been hung up on this broad for years. And you’d like her to be just as hung up on you,” he said with confidence, his assumptions not entirely wrong.

  “Wait, what did that chick just say about the baseball team?” I turned the volume up on the radio dial, much to Tucker’s annoyance.

  “So, Cammie. The baseball team?”

  I held my breath as I waited for her to respond, the heat creeping into my cheeks. Still jealous after all this time—what an asshole I am.

  “I hung out with the guys on the team because I played softball. All the girls did. It was like a sports bonding thing.”

  “Oh, I bet you bonded, all right.”

  “You didn’t play any sports back in high school, right?” Tucker asked, drowning out the sound of the radio again, not that I minded so much at this point.

  I check
ed my side mirror to make sure no one was walking up behind us, tapping the top of the steering wheel as I rested my hand on it. “Nah. We couldn’t afford it.”

  My parents never had extra money, so instead of playing sports like the rest of my friends, I had to get a job to help out as soon as I was old enough. I pretended that it didn’t bother me and that I didn’t care, but I did. I sometimes wished for a more carefree life, but it wasn’t in the cards for me. This was the shitty hand I was dealt. I could either fucking cry about it, or make the best of it.

  “I can’t imagine that. Not playing. Being on the football and the baseball team are some of my best memories.” Tucker practically sighed as he gazed out the window, apparently lost in his glory days.

  I rolled my eyes and let out a little snort. “If those are your best memories, I’m glad I didn’t play.”

  Tucker glanced at me, his brown eyes narrowing as he frowned and took a sip from his stupid giant coffee mug. “What are you trying to say?”

  “I’m just saying that if your best memories came from a time when you were like fifteen and sixteen years old, that’s pathetic, man. Your best memories should happen after high school.”

  “Says the guy who can’t get over his high-school crush. Your argument is null and void.”

  He had a point, and I grimaced. “Shut up.”

  Tucker let out a belly laugh and it echoed in the car, blocking out all other sounds.

  “Seriously, Tucker, shut the fuck up. I want to hear this.” I glared across the seat at my partner, who wore a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “What’s he doing now?”

  “I don’t know what he’s doing now. I don’t even know if he’ll be there or not.”

  “You didn’t keep in touch over the years?”

  “Nope.”

  “Maybe she’s not even talking about you?”

  “But she said she didn’t keep in touch. We never kept in touch,” I said, the tone of my voice far more hopeful than it should be.

  “Well, maybe she hooked up with a bunch of guys in high school, and you were just one of them.”

  Tucker kept talking, saying the stupidest things I’d ever heard as I fought off the urge to punch him in the mouth. The idea of Cammie hooking up with other guys during our senior year made my blood boil. I suppose that could have happened, but I found it hard to believe. She had been in such a dark place that year. The smile she used to wear every day became a gift that she rarely opened. It was a rarity our senior year, and although she gave it to me often, I hated thinking she shared it with anyone else.