A/N - a little bit of mature content in this chapter but i tried to keep it at a T rating; any problems let me know! thank you to Cotton Candy Mareep for the wonderful feedback on my other chapters. please read and enjoy - reviews are love!
Chapter Six
Cam knew what happened before he even opened his eyes. That tight feeling in his lower abdomen and the protruding member of his intrusive morning wood. Lillian was still fast asleep, practically squashed up against the wall after having moved around during the night. He could slip out now, without her noticing, but that would not get rid of his erection. Or, he could remain in bed, wait for it to die down, then get on with the day…
No, that would take too long, and he didn't want to risk Lillian noticing; even though he twitched at the thought of her delicate hands and tongue performing things he had only ever dreamed about…
He felt ashamed of himself as soon as the thought entered his mind. Did he see Lillian in that way? Without a doubt, yes; he recalled how she had reached out to him during the night, pulling him closer, and how his stomach had swooped at their contact. Innocent, yet exciting. He hadn't felt this way about someone, ever. It was pleasant but scary at the same time. He watched her sleep for a moment. Maybe he should kiss her first, before he went off on these wild sexual fantasies about her. He then began to worry whether she would kiss him back. Girls could be very confusing. Perhaps he should straight up ask her.
He heard movement on the floors above him. Better yet, he could ask Laney for advice – she was a girl, she would know what to do.
Cam glanced at the clock on his bedside table, telling him it was almost six o'clock. Stretching, he began to climb out of bed, taking care not to awaken Lillian. However, his efforts were all for nought, because as soon as the big hand hit the number twelve on the clock, Lillian began to stir. Obviously, her body had learnt to get up early every morning without fail. As she stretched and yawned, Cam hastily tucked his unrelenting erection into the waistband of his shorts, pulling on a pair of lounge trousers in the hopes this would be enough to disguise his arousal.
"Good morning," Lillian mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.
"How did you sleep?" Cam asked her conversationally. As she sat up, the duvet fell away from her and the t-shirt rode up her legs, revealing a large amount of creamy white thigh. This did not help matters.
"Very well, thank you." Completely unaware of the effect she was having on him, she looked down at herself and hurriedly pulled down the hem of the t-shirt. "Um, I don't suppose you could fetch my clothes from the kitchen? I think they will be dry now, and I'm not really decently dressed…"
Automatically, he looked down at her legs, to where she gestured. Damn it. "Yeah, sure," he said, much calmer than he felt. He dashed into the kitchen area, yanking Lillian's clothes off the airing rack, and hurried back to his room before anyone set foot downstairs.
"Thanks," said Lillian gratefully when Cam handed her clothes to her. She dithered awkwardly. "I, ah, need to get changed now…"
A blush crept up on his cheeks. "Sorry. I'll be… out here…" His voice trailed off as he left his room, leaving Lillian to undress. This brought a more prominent red blush to his face.
One of these days, he will know how to act normally around the girl.
Cam waited until Lillian had left the café – though not before Howard offered her a plethora of breakfast food, which she politely declined, and Laney had hugged her at least twice – until he dressed back into his normal clothes for the day and pulled Laney to one side.
"What's up?" she asked him, her brow crinkling with concern.
"I need some advice," he murmured awkwardly. He made sure Howard was out of earshot. The man was such a gossip that Cam would not have been surprised if all of Bluebell knew his business by the next morning. "It's… about a girl."
"Lillian?" Laney guessed straight away, her eyebrows raised. She sat down at a table and gestured Cam to sit opposite. "What about her?"
He didn't reply straight away. Was it just him or was it too warm in the café?
"You like her, don't you?" pressed Laney. "Come on, we've been friends for years, you can talk to me about anything."
Cam loosened the collar of his shirt. "I just want a girl's opinion on the matter, that's all."
Laney waited patiently for him to carry on, her fingers laced together on the table in front of her.
"I do really like her – though I didn't at first – and – and I just want to know how to… impress her," he finished lamely. He felt beads of perspiration form on his forehead and took off his hat, setting it down in front of him.
"In what way?"
"Uh…" He thought for a moment and raked a hand through his hair. "Gifts. Like, I don't know how to act when I'm with her, or know what to say or do." He sighed exasperatedly. "I just – I just want to kiss her. Do I need to ask her?"
"No," said Laney at once. "You need to know when the right moment is for you to kiss. Asking her will completely ruin the moment, and kissing her before she is ready to will end badly."
"So, I need to know when the right moment is," he reiterated. "How?"
"By her body language, chemistry between you, the situation," said Laney, counting them on her fingers.
"Oh, so not much then?" he said sarcastically.
She glared at him. "You wanted to know, and there you have it. Honestly, once you get past the first kiss, the rest gets easier. Now," she said briskly, "in terms of gifts, you need to know her personality. Drop subtle questions about what she likes and doesn't like by asking her opinion on things. That way, it won't be obvious that you're about to present her with some lavish gift. Girls like to be surprised. Oh, and don't be too full-on," she added, then smiled.
It was a lot to take in. "I wish I had taken notes now," grumbled Cam, standing up. He glanced back at Laney. "Thanks, though."
She nodded courteously and hurried off to help her father with the dishes for the day. Cam jammed his hat back onto his head and wandered to the town square. He spotted Ash from where he stood. He hadn't seen his best friend in a couple of days and needed to straighten out the thoughts whirring about in his mind, or at least stop thinking about Lillian for more than five minutes.
"Hey, Cam," Ash called cheerfully. "How's things?"
"Good, thanks." Cam leant against the pickets of the fence, watching the cows and sheep scamper around the pen. He was struck by a sudden thought. "Hey, I don't suppose I could buy some milk off you today?"
"Sure thing." Ash brushed his hands on his overalls and made his way to pails of milk that stood in a box in the shade. "What is it for?" he called back.
"A present."
"For a lady?" Ash returned and waggled his eyebrows. "Who is she, eh?"
"L-Lillian." Cam stumbled on her name for a second. "I want to make her a dessert."
Ash raised an eyebrow. "You got a thing for her, huh?"
"I suppose you could call it that." Cam narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why do you ask?"
"You and nearly every other guy. I saw Kana and Mikhail give her a bunch of flowers the other day."
"Really?" asked Cam, his heart hammering. "What for? They didn't buy them from me."
Ash laughed. "Probably because you were closed, like you are nearly all the time. And for the flower festival, of course."
The flower festival. How could he have forgotten? He practically lived and breathed flowers. Yet something else he had to make up to her.
He turned on his heel and started back to the café.
"Where are you going?" Ash shouted after him.
"I have some errands to run," Cam called back.
And a pretty girl to see, he thought to himself with a smile.
Admittedly, the pudding could have been better. It flopped forlornly to one side and jiggled on the dish as Cam walked with it to Lillian's farm. Howard had offered to help but Cam decline, firmly deciding that by doing this on his own, it would be that bit more personal. He had also assembled a bouquet of gerberas and wrapped them in patterned oilpaper. Overall, he was pleased with this affect. He just sincerely hoped she liked pudding.
Lillian was watering her tomato vines when Cam entered the boundaries of her farm. She hadn't seen him; she bent over the vine and examined the growing tomatoes in her hand, before inspecting the onion bulbs. Her work outfit was smeared with soil and her hair tied up into a knot on the crown of her head. When she stood up straight and saw Cam approaching, she hastily wiped the sweat from her forehead and straightened her pinafore, trying to look slightly decent.
"Hey," he called, trudging up the dirt path. "I have something for you."
"So I see," she called back, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "What's the occasion?"
"I missed the flower festival. Here." He handed her the bouquet, hand trembling slightly, though relaxed as she looked gratified. She sniffed the petals appreciatively. He opened his mouth to mention the other flowers she received but decided against it, knowing full well she would retort that it was none of his business. And rightly so.
"And that?" she asked with a nod to the blancmange.
"I made it myself; just a random present for no reason." He blushed but hoped she would think it was the heat of the sun rather than shyness that brought colour to his cheeks.
"Ooh." She peered at it, intrigued. "Bring it inside – I was just about to take a break from work."
She made her way back to the house, Cam in pursuit, and he couldn't help but notice that she seemed remotely unabashed about their night together, and the close proximity to how they slept. Then again, he hadn't expected her to mention anything, like it was a big deal, but couldn't help but feel mildly disappointed. In a way, he wanted to know how it was for her: comforting, pleasant, awkward, or otherwise.
"Put it on the table," Lillian called from the sink as she washed her hands.
In doing so, Cam also sat down, realising that he was in her house for the first time. It was very cosy: a large bed stood next to the wall, there was a bookcase crammed with all sorts of interesting books and the house seemed to carry a permanent aroma of cooking and coconut shampoo. Lillian's slippers sat next to the bed; pink and fluffy with pom-poms at the front. It was definitely a girl's home.
Lillian returned with two spoons and sat next to him. "Try it with me?"
Truth be told, he was begrudged to try his own cooking, but took the spoon anyway, scooping off a section of the pudding and placing it in his mouth. Lillian had already eaten her spoonful and he watched her expectantly.
"How is it?" he asked before eating his own bit.
"Spectacularly disgusting," she said flatly, then flashed him a grin and laughed at his offended expression. "Don't take it personally; I don't particularly like pudding that much."
He relaxed and ate the bit of pudding he was holding. Surprisingly, it wasn't as bad as he had expected it to be. "So why did you eat it?"
She shrugged and tapped the spoon on the wooden table top. "I dunno… you made it especially for me, so I wanted to try it."
Taken aback, he stared at her. If someone placed a chocolate party cake in front of him, no matter how much he liked the other person, he would not so much as try a crumb. He wondered if this was her politeness, or because she liked him. She hadn't said anything of the sort of course, but she was very difficult for him to read.
"That was… nice of you," he said at last. He set his spoon down next to the nearly-empty dish.
She smiled at him but it vanished quickly. Getting up, she made her way over to the radio, and twiddled the knob until she found the weather channel. A crackly voice filled the room.
"… sunny all day today… and tonight there will be a thunderstorm, carrying over to a typhoon tomorrow…"
Lillian tutted and turned the radio off. "Typical. As if there hasn't been enough bad weather." She seemed to be talking to herself more than Cam.
"I always liked thunderstorms," he said conversationally, stretching.
"I don't," she replied flatly. "All the loud claps of thunder…" she broke off and gave a shiver.
He opened his mouth to speak just as she said, "It's a good job I've got Big Ben here to protect me."
Of course – she had been referring to the great St Bernard cross that she had bought from Grady to help her herd the animals. Slightly crestfallen, he toyed with the remnants of pudding, wishing he had to courage to ask her out again. More so, he wished he could stay here with her, and be her protector, holding her delicate body against his as the storm raged outside.
She picked up the dish and took it over to the sink, where Cam followed her. "Please, let me wash that."
Surprised, she stepped back, and allowed him to do so. When he finished drying his hands he turned to where she was stood. A pale bit of something was stuck to her cheek.
"Um…" He reached out and was inwardly glad when she didn't flinch away. "You have some pudding on your face…" Using his thumb he wiped it away, feeling the soft texture of the peachy skin against the calloused pad of his thumb. Even though the remnant had been wiped off, their eyes met, and entranced, kept contact with her face. She looked up at him and he realised how much taller he was than her. Petite, with those round blue eyes and hair the hung in loose waves around her shoulders, her beauty seemed to hit him at once. How could he have ever thought her irritating? More to the point: how could he have ever disliked her as greatly as he had done?
"You have really pretty eyes," she whispered, her own sparkling as he looked deep into their depths.
"Thank –"
But suddenly her lips were on his, gentle, the luscious pink that reminded him of crushed raspberries, and tasted like pudding and mint in one, kissing him with a tenderness he had not experienced in his near-twenty years of living. Fireworks exploded somewhere in his brain, his stomach swooping sickeningly, his arms dangling by his sides until he finally regained use of them, his fingers tangling in her hair. Getting over his initial surprise he kissed her back firmly, one arm snaked around her waist the way he had imagined it countless times before he went to sleep at night. How long they were stood there, swaying on the spot and their lips finally meeting, he did not know, and he did not care. For now, all that mattered was that he had this sweet, troubled girl in his arms. He would have felt as if this were a dream, a cruel image designed to torment him, until he heard doleful mooing from the cows outside, and cluck of chickens, bringing him back to the real world. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, massaging her tongue with his, and she moaned against him, the sound reverberating off his lips. It was the closest to heaven he had ever been.
Eventually, Lillian pulled away from him to draw breath, her mouth moist from their passionate kiss. She smiled at him and it stayed in place.
"I've wanted to do that for a long time," he murmured in her ear. He pulled her close so that her head rested against his chest.
"Hmm, me too," she agreed.
Silence fell upon them; yet not the usual awkward, bitter silence it once had been. Now, they could stand in the quiet atmosphere of her house, enjoying the presence of their bodies against each other. Any trace of their previous animosity had evaporated and had been replaced by the chemistry between them that seemed to almost crackle with electricity.
For a second time, she pulled away from him. "I've been growing some roses with the seeds I bought from you. Do you want to see them?"
He smiled down at her. "I'd love to."
Taking his hand, she led him outside to the sweltering heat, and down to the area below the pasture. There, in a row, were growing shrubs of red roses. Buds had appeared, leaning greedily in the direction of the sun's rays. Only on one of the plants had a green bud exploded open to reveal the rich red petals inside that had begun to peek out.
"They're not as nice as the ones you grow," Lillian said quickly, "I mostly grow vegetables and the like. A bit of variety, you know?"
"They're beautiful," he told her. She flushed. "Would you like to take a walk with me?"
The question slipped out easily and this time he didn't stutter or blush. Nodding, and still holding hands, Cam led her away from her farm and to the stream. Every now and then they caught each other's eye and smiled shyly. She was beginning to feel at ease with him, more than she had done with anyone else, though tried to remain stoic and sensible. After some time, Cam laced his fingers through hers, allowing them to feel that little bit closer. Ducks were waddling in the shallows of the stream when they got there; Cam led Lillian down the embankment and they sat cross-legged on the short grass, their fingers dancing together as if participating in a mini wrestling match. The clouds overhead were beginning to look overcast.
Cam saw her eye the sky wearily. "What is it you don't like about thunderstorms?"
She hesitated. Could she explain why, without saying too much? Why the claps of loud thunder frightened her, in conjunction with the memory they brought, without telling him exactly why? Even though she had escaped her old life, she had been a fool to think that nothing in Bluebell would remind her of it. Or would it be better to simply tell the truth?
"Tell me why you came to Bluebell and I'll tell you why I don't like thunderstorms," she said simply. A truth for a truth, she decided.
He eyed her suspiciously. "Okay, then…" He cleared his throat. "I was on my own a lot; my parents had separated, and had this ongoing battle over who would get custody of me as a child, so, to make things easier, I moved in with my grandmother in the country. She lived away from the city, and was old and frail, so I looked after her. Long story short, she passed away, I set about selling her house and came here. My parents didn't speak to me much, and last I heard, they had found new partners and started new families so I guess I wouldn't have been missed much." The last part sounded bitter yet he betrayed no emotion in his face.
"Oh," was all she said. "How come you like flowers as much as you do?"
"Uh-uh," he said, wagging a reproving finger at her though smiling. "I'll answer that when you answer my question."
She sighed. Here goes nothing. "My mother remarried. He was a rich man but ill-tempered, and despised me. He had another daughter around my age and he felt as if I was a threat to her; apparently she did, too. Whenever I had misbehaved as a child, my stepfather would enter my room at the opportune moment a thunderstorm had begun and thrash me for my 'bad' deeds. We lived in a large house so my mother never heard – but the thunder covered up what he was doing. I learnt to hide under the bed as soon as I saw those accursed grey clouds roll across the sky, waiting, hoping that he would forget…" Lillian broke off as her voice cracked, fear flooding through her again. "After a while he would continue beating me for no reason – my bed hadn't been made, I spoke through their radio program, and so on. My mother never found out."
Cam stared at her, aghast, and disgusted that a grown man could do that to a child – or do that, full stop. It was a sickening thought, imagine a five-year old Lillian cowering, waiting for that large hand to make contact…
Lillian wasn't looking at him. Instead, she pulled at the grass, apparently unaware of what she was doing. "So, why do you like flowers so much?" she asked in a lighter yet firm tone, making it clear that he was not to pass comment about what she had told him, and that she didn't wish to discuss it further. She had told him, that was that, and he understood this straight away.
"When my grandmother became frailer and couldn't leave the house as much, she began showing me around her back garden. It was filled with the most beautiful flowers I had ever seen – some I had never heard of. She began teaching me about them, and flower arranging, and when she became too ill I took over caring for them."
"That's wonderful," said Lillian sincerely. She squeezed his hand. "You really loved her, didn't you?"
He nodded, a lump in his throat. "I used to joke that she was the only woman for me. I wasn't interested in girls much. She would laugh at that. Howard is nice; a strong father figure, and a lot better than mine ever was."
She leant her head against his shoulder. "We've sure found better lives here, haven't we?"
He looked down at her. "We sure have."
Their gaze met and their lips soon followed, kissing in the warm grass and hazy summer sun, until the first fat droplets fell from the sky.