❥ . ⋆ Chapter Four

     Thunder rumbled as Cam and Ansel approached the side door of the Crashdown Cafe.  It was easier to go through that door than the front since the large glass doors were locked and her dad was the only one with a key.  Cam paused and sighed, glancing up at the dark sky.  "Well, good night."

     "Wait," Ansel says quickly and his eyes widen like he's surprised himself.  "Listen," he clears his throat and tries to explain himself.  "Listen, Cam, you've been somewhere else all night."

     Cam softly sighs again, this time looking at her converse on the concrete.  "I know.  I'm sorry," it's quiet between the two for a moment, then Cam lifts her head and starts wondering out loud.  "Ansel, do you ever wonder if—"

     Ansel watched her wave her arms around as she tried finding the right words.  "Do I ever wonder what?"

     "When you see me, do you do you feel things?"

     "Yes, of course.  I feel things," his eyebrows turned upwards as he flashed his most sympathetic smile.  "Where is this coming from?" he asked Cam, taking her hands in his.

     Cam let out a heavy sigh.  "Forget it.  I don't know what I was talking about.  I'm just gonna go get some sleep."

     "All right," Ansel gently dropped her hands and brought her in for a hug.  Out of all days, this was the day she chose to wear a crop top.  His eyes flickered over the area he placed his hand, on her lower stomach, shocked that he was touching her bare skin.  But that wasn't the only interesting thing.  "Cam, w—"

     "Oh!" she had been lifting her arms to wrap around his neck, but she quickly dropped them to pull her shirt down.  Trying to clear the confused look on Ansel's face, she cleared her throat.  "Good night, Ansel."

     She quickly walked inside, leaving Ansel alone outside.  "Good night, Cam," he said softly before turning away from the diner and house.

     Cam walked up the stairs, leaving her coat on the hanger by the door in the employee room.  It was so silent, you could hear a pin drop, except it was only on the outside.  A million questions were running through Cam's head.

     A soft voice scared her. "Cam."

     Her head snapped to the direction of her window, and she cursed softly under her breath.

     Tim was standing outside her room, where her balcony looking area connected to a lower part of the roof.  Cam liked to go out there at night to look at the stars.  "I have to talk to you," he said.

     Cam calmed down, dropping her keys on her nightstand.  "The window is open."

     Tim's eyebrows cocked up.  "You're inviting me in?"  Cam nodded, and took off her shoes, placing them by her nightstand as Tim came in her room.  "I can't imagine how you must feel right now.  I mean, I've thought about telling you a thousand times," he confused.  

     "You have? Me?" her eyebrows furrowed.  Tim smiled, turning his gaze to her tile floor and chuckled.  "What?"

     "Sorry," he brought his gaze back up to meet her eyes.  "I just, uh I just keep picturing you in that dress with the, uh the cupcakes on it."

     "What?"

     "Forget it," he waved one of his hands after untucking it from his jean pocket.  "It was a long time ago."

     "Oh, my God," Cam sighed, sitting down on her bed.  "That's right.  I can't believe I actually wore that thing!  I had that dress in kindergarten," she smiled at the memory, rubbing her eyes softly with her hand.  "I didn't know you until the third grade.  Did you, like, read my mind or something?"

     "No, I don't read minds," he chuckled.  "When I healed you, I made this, I don't know.  This connection. And I got this rush of images.  An image of that dress flashed into my mind and I knew how you felt about it."

     Cam bit her lip.  "How did I feel about it?"

     Tim chuckled again, but this time with a wider smile.  "It was the single supreme embarrassment of your life.  But your mom made it for you.  She was so proud of it.  She never made a dress before.  So you wore it for her sake."

     Cam couldn't hold back her smile.  "Wow."

     "I've never tried this before, but maybe I could make the connection go the other way so, you can see, you know, that I'm still me," he sat down in front of her at the foot of her bed.  "But I have to touch you."

     This is crazy.

     "Do whatever you want," she found herself saying, preparing for whatever he meant.  She assumed he was going to place his hand just where he had when he saved her, and that's what he did.

     "Now, just take deep breaths and try and let your mind blank out," he said, though he was unsure of it himself.  This was the first time he was trying anything like this with anyone.  He was nervous, to say the least, and was extremely careful because he didn't want to hurt her.

     Cam found comfort in his touch as he gently laid his hand on the same spot he did before, which now was known to anyone who looked at Cam's lower stomach because there was a glowing aqua coloured handprint there.

     I could feel everything he was feeling.  I could feel his loneliness.  For the first time, I was really seeing Timothee Evans.  I saw me as he saw me.  And the amazing thing was in his eyes, I was beautiful.

     "Did it work?" he asked, searching her face for an answer.

     Timothee Evans has put a force on me.  It's like my whole life changed in an instant.  It's just so ironic that when something like this finally happened to me it was with an alien.

     "Hey," Noah approached Cam the next day at her locker.  

     "Oh, hey, Noah," she sighed.  "Have you seen my book bag anywhere?"

     "No, I haven't," Noah admitted.  "Um, can I talk to you for a second?  What's up?  Because I'm your friend and I'm Ariana's friend too so if you lie to Ariana, it's sort of like lying to me."

     "Noah, what did Ariana say to you?" Cam said.

     "Well, frankly, it's vague," he admitted.  "I mean, everything needs to be put through the Ariana filter.  But she said something about how she found blood on your order book.  What's going on?"

     "Noah, Ariana's a total drama queen.  You know that.  Nothing is going on," Cam sweetly smiled at her friend. 

     "Okay, well, look," he said.  "All I care about is that you're okay.  So, you are, right? You're okay?" Noah wanted a real answer.

     "I'm okay, all right?  And whatever happened is over now?  Totally over."

     "Okay," he nodded.  Cam nodded and was about to keep the conversation going when they got interrupted.

     "Miss Parker," a teacher cut into their conversation.  "The sheriff needs to ask you some questions."

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     "Afternoon, Miss Parker.  Your father said it'd be okay if I talked to you," Cam never felt completely comfortable around Ansel's dad when he was in Sheriff mode.  He had a habit of digging his nose too deep into every case, which was worrying since nothing ever happened in Roswell.  "I'm sorry to have to show you these," he pulled out large pictures from a dirty orange folder.  "This man was found dead with no apparent cause of death except that.  What do you make of that mark?"

     Cam didn't hesitate in lying.  "I've never seen anything like that before."

     "Ansel he saw a similar mark on your stomach," the sheriff insisted.

     "He was wrong.  I'm sure.  Ansel's got a pretty wild imagination," Cam crossed her legs as she sat uncomfortably in the wooden seat.

     "Yeah," the sheriff wasn't buying it.  "I'm gonna need to see for myself, Cam."

     "I'm sorry, what?" this could go one of two ways and Cam being Cam, chose the second.  "You're asking me to lift my shirt up for you?  Is this even legal?"

     The sheriff dropped his pen onto the desk, surprised that Cam said that.  "Well, I mean I can bring in a female teacher if you're more comfortable-"

     Cam waved her hand, uncrossing her legs and standing up.  "Come on, Sheriff," she lifted her shirt to reveal a perfectly fine and tan stomach.  "As I said," she spat, sitting back down harshly in the seat, annoyance written all over her.  "Ansel has a wild imagination.  I wonder who he takes after."

     "Cam-"

     "I mean I told you that I spilled ketchup and I said that, like, a thousand times," she continued.

     "Cam, please."

     "There's no mark," Cam furrowed her brows for extra emphasis.  "That you should be searching for."

     "Yeah, well," Sheriff licked his lips and returned back to his reasoning.  "The mark faded on the corpse too."  Cam's jaw slightly opened, and she gave one of her sassiest 'are you serious?' looks yet.  "What do you know about a kid named Timothee Evans?"

     "Timothee Evans?" she asked.  The Sheriff nodded.  Cam shrugged.  "I don't know him all that well."

     "Was he one of the kids at the Crashdown that day?"

     "No."

     "I see," the Sheriff played with the pen he dropped onto the desk, twiddling it in between his fingers.

     "Can I go home now, Sheriff?" Cam asked, rubbing her gloss covered lips together.

     "Just one more thing.  Somebody turned in this book bag," he leaned back and pulled a book bag from under the desk.  "It's yours, isn't it?"

     Cam only nodded, taking the bag before rushing out the door, her brown locks flowing behind her as she walked with force.

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note
sorry for the hiatus im back