Reclaim - Aly Martinez Page 0,17

so, so, so sweet.

I couldn’t accept it though. Ramsey and I had made a deal years ago not to take handouts from strangers. It was easier to keep our secrets that way. If we weren’t in need, nobody asked questions.

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry. I had a really big breakfast.” Technically, the bowl had been really big, but the leftover cereal mixed with the dust from the bottom of the bag inside said bowl was a different story. Still, my body’s built-in lie detector did not accept half-truths and my cheeks went up in flames.

He eyed me curiously. “You sure? You gotta be hungry by now.”

“I'm positive.”

That should have been the end of it. He could eat his lunch and then we’d be back to normal. Just two normal kids hanging out at a creek, running a racket on worms.

Only the speed in which his smile disappeared as he tucked not one, but both sandwiches back in his bag wasn’t normal at all.

His whole body deflated as he mumbled, “Okay. Never mind.”

I narrowed my eyes and stared at the side of his face. What exactly was happening?

Was he…disappointed? Judging by his Stegosaurus backbone, he could have benefited from eating both the sandwiches himself.

I grabbed my backpack and sat on it so my wet bathing suit didn’t get muddy in the dirt. “You can eat, ya know?”

He kept his gaze trained on the ground. “Nah. It’s okay. I’m good.”

“Cam, you literally just said you were hungry. Eat.”

“I’m fine,” he snapped, and it was so unlike him that it was jarring.

Wow. He was disappointed. Like, actually pouting because I didn’t want to eat the sandwich he’d brought.

No. The sandwich he’d made.

For me.

That he must have made at the crack of dawn because he was already at the creek, complete with bug spray, at an ungodly hour waiting on me.

Damn, why did all of that make me feel like I was a jerk for not taking the sandwich?

This was why I didn’t have friends. I didn't understand my own feelings, much less anyone else’s.

We sat there in total silence for what felt like an eternity.

Him staring at the dirt.

Me pretending to pick at my fingernails just so I had somewhere to look that wasn’t at him.

All of it super awkward.

None of it worth ruining both of our days over.

Besides, Ramsey couldn’t get mad. He took food from Thea all the time. Camden wasn’t really a stranger anymore.

And I was hungry.

And he was hungry.

And there were two perfectly good sandwiches sitting right there.

I sighed. “On second thought, maybe I am hungry.”

His whole face lit as if it were Christmas morning. Moving fast, he retrieved them from his bag. “Which one? The peanut butter and jelly probably tastes better, but I’m awful at spreading the peanut butter, so I think I tore the bread a few times. The turkey is good too though, but I don’t know if you like sour cream and onion chips. Especially not on your sandwich. I thought about just going for regular turkey, but we were out of mayonnaise, and it seemed too plain.” Grinning from ear to ear, he thrust two baggies toward me. “Anyway, I’m not picky. So whichever one you want, I’m good with the other.”

I bit my bottom lip. Deep down, I didn’t want either of them and not because of anything to do with torn bread or sour cream and onion chips. It was because taking his sandwich felt a whole lot like charity.

I didn’t know the situation with Camden’s life. I’d gathered they didn’t have a ton of money and his grandparents were hard on him. But I knew myself and if I was going to take a sandwich from him and not choke on every single bite, I had to feel like it was tit for tat.

“What’s your favorite kind of sandwich, Cam?”

He shrugged. “Whatever. I’m easy.”

“No. You gotta tell me. Or I’m not taking either one of those.”

He slanted his head to the side with confusion that was so cute it made me even more uncomfortable. “Why not?”

“Because you’ve been doing a lot of nice things for me and it’s freaking me out. Just answer a question for once, would ya?”

“I like doing nice things for you.”

Dang, he was smooth.

“Not an answer,” I said firmly.

“Okay, okay. Fine. I think my favorite would have to be chicken salad.”

I curled my lip and finally looked back at him. “Ew.”

He laughed. “Hey, you asked.”

“Well, I’m no chef, so do you like anything else?”

“I guess ham