Hey guys, this story is complete and utter fluff; so if you like that kinda thing, read on, and if you don't, I recommend that you find another Fanfic. (I'm kidding, right - who doesn't like fluff?)
Note: this flick takes place somewhere between the 3rd & 4th G.G. books, 'kay?
Warning: there is a little bad language in this flick - but I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle - we're all grown-ups now, aren't we?
Anyways, enjoy!
Cammie's POV:
"You've got to tell Zach," Macey said, sunning herself on the park bench.
"It's not as simple as just 'telling him'," I replied, sprawling on a neighbouring bench. "There's a lot more to it than that."
She lifted her designer shades off her perfect nose, shoving them back into her tangled black hair. (I know, I'm as surprised as you are - about the hair thing.)
"There doesn't have to be Cam. Just tell him how you feel and leave the rest up to him. At least you can live your life without regretting you didn't say anything."
For a second I looked out to see, remembering. Remembering the way he kissed me that summer. Remembering the way he looked into my eyes on the train. Remembering.
A seagull cawed loudly, jerking me out of my reverie.
I lounged back, fingering my white eyelet lace sundress anxiously. "I can't. I can't tell Zach. Not yet, at least."
"Can't tell me what, Gallagher Girl?"
And there he was.
Just like that.
Standing there, looking as hot as ever, in board shorts - and nothing else - was Zach.
Why doesn't it surprise me that he's here? I thought. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he always seems to turn up in the most unexpected places - and at the most unexpected times.
I got to my sandy feet and sidled up to him. Macey silently slipped away, but not before giving me a 'go-for-it' look.
I inspected him. His tan, broad chest and washboard abs were a sight to behold. He caught me looking.
"What Gallagher Girl? Like what you see?" He flexed his muscles, grinning cockily.
I ignored him, glowering. I'm not in the mood for this.
He smirked, green eyes dancing mischeviously.
"So, now that you've finished checking me out - back to before; what can't you tell me?"
I twirled a strand of my dirty blonde hair with my fingers, averting his gaze.
He stepped closer.
"Do you know that I really hate secrets?"
I begrudgingly looked his way. His eyes were a little more serious.
"Now: I'm gonna ask you again; what can't you tell me?"
His eyes smouldered. I lost my train of thought.
"How I feel," I blurted.
Oh fuck. You've really done it now Cam.
I scuffed my toes in the golden sand, looking down. Looking anywhere but at him.
Why did I have to say anything? Why did I have to let it slip?
"And how exactly do you feel?"
I studied his expression. He looked serious, intent.
The waves lapped softly at the shore.
I blushed, embarrassed, giving no answer.
"Why're you ashamed? I'm surprised that you've managed to withold your feelings this long. I'm surprised that you've refrained from kissing me 'til this point."
I stood there, shocked. Why was I expecting him to be sensitive at all? Then a whole new emotion set in - anger.
"You're so pathetic!" I raged. "You think you're God's gift to women, don't you? Well, you're not. And whatever effect that you do have - it doesn't work on me."
He cocked an eyebrow, unconvinced. "It doesn't?"
"No," I said, defensive.
"Oh really? Then, seeing as you are so sure, you wouldn't be swayed at all by this."
He closed the gap between us and pressed his lips to mine firmly. I tried to remain indifferent, but with hormones and all, and with the fact that he was, well, Zach, this was rendered impossible. On tip-toes, I reached up around his neck, bringing him closer to me. I felt him smile. "I knew you liked me."
Mouth lingering on his, I simply said, "shut up."
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-Tess