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    Suddenly, I get it. The truth isn't always a snake; not always is it a bad thing. Maybe it's a contextual thing. Sometimes, it can be a bad thing but right now, it's the most liberating thing in the world.

I should've been this honest with him before now, but then hindsight is such a wonderfully amazing thing.

"You are?" I ask.

"How have you not known?"

"I think I have, but I've been denying it. Well, until now. To acknowledge it is to accept my feelings, and my brain didn't want to do that," I admit. "But I don't want to deny it anymore. I can't."

"Then don't."

I hold his gaze, and those hazel eyes are the most beautiful things on this planet right now. It's weird how the mood can change with just a moment, just one bout of honesty.

"With everything that's happened, is now the time?" I question.

His eyes close and his forehead rests against mine. His scent invades my nose like an army, but this war is welcome, and my soldiers stand down. I want to have everything in my senses surrender to him, and drown in Cameron. Yet there's something in my brain stopping me.

"For once in your life, Kenna, go with what you want. Ignore your common sense, and just go with what your heart is telling you. You've gone through enough shit, it's time to take something for yourself."

"You saying that because you know what I want?"

We both laugh at that.

"I can't deny I'm biased, but if you tell me it's not time for us, then I'll respect it." He stands properly and rubs a hand across the back of his neck. "I wanna tell you something."

"Hm?"

"When we were in your cake shop the other day – well, the day of your wedding. Luke told me something, and I kinda... I think you should know."

I remember it now, as my family left the shop, Luke whispered something to him. I didn't hear what it was, I just brushed it off. But now I'm intrigued again.

"Okay," I answer.

"He told me that he gave us his blessing," Cameron says. "That he knows we're in love and we should be together."

For a second, his words take me by surprise. Luke saying that is not something I can imagine, but then, I guess he's older and more perceptive than he used to be.

"Wow, that's... surprising coming from the guy who literally roleplayed the bad cop routine on Elliott when he heard we were together," I tell him.

Cameron laughs. "I remember that."

"Shut up! That was humiliating!"

We both let the memory roll and laugh with it, but after a while, I turn serious.

"For what it's worth, I agree. Suppose we're like the star-crossed lovers cliché, right? Something always keeping us apart. Other people, life, crap situations, more life, and more people. Will it ever be our time?" He sighs. "I kinda see it as now."

I look at him; this is the most honest he's ever been with me. Growing up, he was always the annoying but hot big brother's best friend thing, and then I had Elliott. We were just friends, and he never really had much to do with me. Then we were grieving together, and it was intense, emotionally fuelled. He was honest with me after he saved me, but not in words. I guess now is the time for words, because words can hurt and change everything, and they haven't had their moment until now.

Just like me and Cameron.

When you look at stars in the night sky, you're technically looking back in time; or at least, the light they're showing us set off a long time ago. In a way, we get to see their time again, and stars unknowingly get two times to shine. In a way. Cameron and I had one chance six years ago, but life just didn't want us to be together, but now is our time. He's not wrong.

The little voice in my head is ringing, but it's nothing but my brain telling me it's a risk. After Courtney, will I get hurt? After Elliott, will it end in tragedy? But the thing is, I know Cameron like I knew Elliott – sort of – and I know he'll be open and honest about it. We're older than Elliott was, and we've shown we've matured. Cameron isn't Courtney, and this situation is so different. If we don't take risks in life, we'll never get a good payoff.

"Kiss me," I tell him.

"You... are you sure?"

I nod.

He stands in front of me, my instructions leaving a tiny echo between us. His hand reaches out, ever so lightly cupping my jaw and under my ear.

All I can hear is the loud thumping of anticipation in my chest, the threading pulse in my ears and the jaggedness of our breathing beats between us. His eyes keep looking between my lips and eyes, and I can't help but look at his lips as they part ever so slightly, and his hand as it quakes by my jaw.

Part of me wants him to hurry up and kiss me because all I want to feel is his lips on mine, but I also want to savour this silence in which it's just the anticipation blooming like a flower between us.

It's strange because as I part my lips and get ready for when he finally closes the gap, I realise we've kissed before. Many times that night, actually, but this is different. This kiss will be under the truth that we're both in love with each other. This won't be heightened by the grief, confusion, anger and high emotion we had that night. This kiss will be wanted, and while it's high on the emotion, the emotion now is not the same. The truth is out between us, and it's been emotionally driven, but this is overriding all of that because we discussed that to get to this.

His hand tightens on my jaw, enough to keep me in place, but not enough to hurt. The way his skin feels on mine in this moment is everything. The tingles are like that moment the spring sun feels on your skin after a bitterly cold winter, and the way I feel under his gaze and touch feels like this is where I'm meant to be after six years of waiting.

Finally, finally, he moves in and our lips connect, and it's the final destination on the map. My eyes close, and I instantly get lost in him. The plant mint smell of him gets stronger around me, his touch tightens and feels perfect, and all I can feel is this kiss. Cameron's lips taste like a mix of lemonade and red velvet, and it's suddenly my favourite flavour. I move my hands around his neck, while his moves to my waist. Our bodies press together a little more as our kiss deepens. I open my mouth and take in his taste even more with my tongue. My pyjama top rides up ever so slightly, leaving his fingers to spread the rays of spring sunshine on my skin. I'm suddenly under his control, needing more, wanting more, but unsure if this is where this is heading. I wouldn't mind if it did, but I don't know if this is too fast.

He moves away ever so slightly, flushed pink and taking in a breath. His lips are glistening, and I instantly want to lean back in for more.

"If we kiss anymore right now, I will want more," he warns.

"And that's fine with me," I whisper.

His eyes turn darker with hunger. Without saying anything more, he kisses me again. This one is a hungry kiss with a plan. Cameron's hands hold my face, his tongue laps mine, and his breath comes out ragged. It takes me a second, but I give him back the same appetite; this is what six years of pent-up feelings and unresolved crap does to people. It builds and builds until one day it just crescendos into a piece so abstract you don't know what to make of it.

Is this too much, too soon? Does it matter? We've never been conventional so why start now? Will we regret this after? Who cares?

His hands start to explore under my top, but then he changes tack and gestures for me to be in his arms. A few awkward manoeuvres and a breathy giggle later, he gives up on the idea and I take his hand to lead him into my room.

He stops at the foot of my bed and reads my eyes like a dog-eared novel he's reread over and over. It steals the breath from my lungs; never do I want to be looked at any other way again.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks.

"I'm sure. I love you, Cameron."

A satisfied smile ghosts his lips before he leans in again. "I love you too."

Unsure how to continue, I kiss him and reach for his shirt, tugging it awkwardly up his body. He takes the hint and pulls it off him, revealing his partly muscular body. As he throws the shirt to the floor, my eyes spot the small few freckles over his stomach. They were something I noticed six years ago, and they intrigued me then. My hand moves, fingers reaching out and touching them as if they were a dot-to-dot drawing.

He shudders under my touch. Our eyes meet, and I can tell that was pleasure for him.

In retaliation, he pulls at my top, taking it off me with ease. I don't wear a bra to bed, so immediately, I'm laid half-naked to him and his eyes drink me in like I'm a piece of expensive, impressive art in a museum.

Usually, I'm self-conscious about my naked body, but my arms don't instinctively move across my exposed stomach as he looks at me. His eyes radiate as he takes me in, and I feel like the most beautiful thing in the world that's worth more than the most expensive art.

"You're so gorgeous," he whispers before stepping forward again.

His words travel down my spine, forcing my arms to pull him to me, magnetising our mouths together again. He reciprocates, tugging at my pyjamas until they're in a pool around my feet. When he pulls away, I move onto the bed while his eyes stay on me, taking in every inch with tantalising need as he takes his jogging bottoms off. For a split second, I take him in, seeing how physically ready for this he is now. Cameron's changed in the past six years. Of course he has, but he's still the way I remember him. Still muscular, but not too muscular, still tanned, and still breathtaking.

Without skipping a beat, he bends down, takes his wallet, and pulls out a condom wrapper. I scramble up the bed until I reach the pillows, leaning on my elbows, and watch him clamber over until he settles between my legs. Our bodies are still way too far apart for my liking, but there's nothing wrong with taking this slowly. Even though my body is betraying me by wanting him so much, I'm aching to just pull him closer until there's nothing between us.

"Presumptuous, aren't you?" I tease, nodding towards the condom in his hand.

He smirks. "I'm a confident man. I see a naked woman as beautiful as you, and I know I have to."

I snort as he leans down and teases my jaw with a kiss. "Then you're lucky you're all right with words."

"For the woman I've loved for a long time, I'm a poet."

I laugh and kiss him back. "I'm holding you to that. There better be a damn good poem coming my way."

He kisses my neck. "There'll be plenty of words when I'm done with you." Each kiss he plants between his awful attempt at flattery paints a new piece of art on my skin, making the watercolour come to life as he kisses downwards on my body.

"That was shit. I hope you're better at this."

"You know I am."

"A lot can change in six years, Cameron."

"My feelings for you haven't."

"I'll give you that one."

He keeps kissing my skin, setting off more and more pieces of art, not just on my skin, but on my nerves. The pleasure is blossoming before he's even reached his destination. I lean back on the bed a bit more as he finally sets off on his destination, looking at me for consent.

I nod in response, to which he gives me a smile of smugness. He's the cat that got the cream, and we both know it. He moves my legs apart even more before his fingers and mouth build my pleasure.

My head falls back, and a moan escapes my lips as he treats me like a one-of-a-kind artwork meant just for him, and it's exactly where I've wanted to be for a long time.

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