Imagines: Not Only in Your Dreams

The announcer starts the panel, inviting the Viners to walk in and have a seat.

“Cameron Dallas!” the announcer exclaims, and the crowd goes crazy.

You hold your breath as Cameron walks in, and your heart melts in your chest. He’s taller and looks stronger, with more defined arms. He’s not the skinny boy from high school; he’s a handsome man now. He wears a plain white shirt that looks great against his tanned skin. His hair strikes you as soft and well cared for. His smile is dazzling and lights up the room. He waves his hand at the crowd and sits down.

You can’t believe he’s there. The announcer introduces the others—you hardly notice—and quickly starts giving the audience the chance to ask questions.

A gorgeous brunette holds the microphone and looks up at Cam. “My question is for Cameron.” He smiles politely at her. “Would you go out with me tonight?”

Your jaw almost touches the floor. Wow, that girl is blunt.

Cameron chuckles and scratches the back of his head. “We’ll see how the night goes.” He winks at her and everyone cheers. A pang of jealousy crosses you, and you take a deep breath. You have no right to be jealous; he’s not yours.

The questions keep coming, and many girls shout I love yous to Cameron and the others.

Now it’s your turn to ask a question.

You move forward to the microphone and swallow. Your hands are sticky, your heart is on the brink of failure. He’s going to see you. The moment has come. Will he remember you?

“Hi,” you whisper shyly into the microphone.

Cameron looks at you without expression, just his usual polite smile.

Your heart falls and you bite your lip to avoid getting emotional. He doesn’t remember you. You knew that was a possibility; why does it hurt so badly?

“My question is for Cam, I mean Cameron,” you correct yourself.

Cameron narrows his eyes at you. There is a moment of silence that feels like an eternity.

You lift your gaze to look straight into his eyes. “It’s not a question, Cameron. It’s a delayed confession, I guess.” He looks confused. “I love you.” His eyes widen. “And I mean it, it’s not a fan love thing. My feelings for you were born way before all this.” You motion at the crowd. “I am in love with you. Gosh, it’s a relief to finally say it after all this time.”

The place falls dead silent.

“That’s all,” you finish nervously.

The announcer steps up to fill the void. “Well, that was intense. Cameron, do you have anything to say to this brave girl?”

Cameron smiles. “I’m flattered,” he says politely. Your chest tightens. “She’s a beautiful girl.” His compliment hurts because he’s talking like you’re just a girl in the crowd.

The announcer grins. “And I’m going to ask the question everyone has in mind right now. Do you know this girl?”

You stop breathing right there.

Cameron glances at you, then says, “No.”

Your heart falls to the ground and tears fill your eyes, blurring your sight.

“I wish I knew her, though. She seems like a sweet girl.”

You’ve had enough. You turn your back to him and start walking away through the crowd. For a moment, you wish this were like a romance movie and that he would chase after you.

But, of course, he didn’t. Why would he?

Tears stream down your face. The quiet murmurs of people and the soft music seem like too much. You want to run away from there, but don’t want to look crazy.

It’s done. You should go. You did what you came to do. You were publicly rejected, but you have finally let him know of your feelings. You can move on now. Rejection feels terrible and devastating, but it’s closure. You can do nothing about it. You can’t force someone to like you, much less love you.

You wipe your tears away and let yourself get distracted by the amazing costumes and displays around you. You’ve never been to Comic-Con before and you regret it because it’s certainly entertaining. Eventually you start to smile at some of the funny costumes, and the bright and colorful surroundings distract you. You’re still smiling when you hear someone call your name from behind, though, figuring it’s your imagination, you ignore it. Not until you feel a tap on your shoulder do you turn around.

A blond guy with a bright grin on his face stands there. “Hi. Can you follow me?” He extends his hand.

You frown. “Do I know you?”

He shakes his head. “No, but you need to follow me now.”

“Why would I?” You take a step back.

“You don’t take risks, do you?” He sighs. “He said you’d be like this.”

Your frown grows bigger. “He?”

The guy runs his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, Cameron.”

Your heart starts hammering against your ribs. “Cameron?”

“Yeah, he sent me to get you,” the guy explains tiredly. “Which was not easy, by the way. This event is huge.”

“But what—why—”

“Just follow me. Leave the questions to him.” The guy takes your hand and pulls you to walk behind him.

Is this guy telling the truth? Why would Cameron send for me? He said he didn’t remember you. He broke your heart in front of everyone.

Curiosity and anticipation get the best of you. You cannot help but follow this stranger, even though you’re skeptical about Cameron being behind it. You face a door where a giant guard is standing. The guard gestures at you, and your guide says, “She’s with me.”

That’s all it takes for the guard to step aside. You enter a maze of dark hallways with what look like dressing rooms at the sides. You are breathing erratically. Your heart is about to jump out of your chest. Your mouth is dry and you bite your lip nervously.

The guy stops walking and lets go of your hand. “Go.” He points to a door at the end of the hallway. “He’s waiting for you.”

You nod and head in that direction.

What does he want? Why did he send for you? Maybe he thinks I’m sort of an obsessed fan or something, you think, but you push through your negative thoughts.

You knock on the door and then hear his voice: “Come in.”

It’s real. He’s actually there on the other side of the door. . . .

You open the door slowly, as if waiting for him to shut it in your face and say again he doesn’t remember you. But then you see him and nothing matters anymore. You forget his public rejection. You forget all those years of silent love. It all goes away when you meet those beautiful eyes, those mesmerizing eyes that got your attention back in seventh grade.

Cameron leans against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. His brown hair looks softer than ever and nicely styled. Those plump lips form a sincere smile and your heart gives out.

“Close the door,”

he commands softly.

Shaking, and without looking away, you close the door behind you.

“Lock it.”

You swallow but do as told. He stares at you and it becomes so hard to breathe. You’re alone with him in a small room. You weren’t prepared for this. You don’t know what to say. You said enough. You can’t stand his fervent gaze, so you look away.

But then it happens.

He calls out your name, drawing out each syllable slowly.

He remembers your name. He actually remembers it. You’re about to ask him why he said he didn’t remember you out there, but he speaks first.

“Why are you here?” His question catches you off guard. “Why?” He sounds angry, and you have no idea why.

“I just . . .” But even when he’s keeping his distance from you, it’s hard to articulate words right now. “I came to . . . I needed closure.”

“Closure?” He clenches his jaw. “Closure on what, exactly?”

“On . . . you, us, I—”

“Us? There was no us.”

That hurts. “I know that. I—”

“No, wait. There was no us because you fucking disappeared on me.” You’ve never heard Cameron swear before. “You vanished. You didn’t even leave a note, something. There was no explanation, there was nothing. I just went to your house on Saturday morning to watch some TV with you—as usual—only to find an empty house with a SOLD sign. Do you have any idea how I felt? I was pissed, frustrated, and desperate. I looked for you until I realized you didn’t deserve it.”

This stuns you. “What?”

“Yes, you heard me right. You didn’t deserve it. You left me with no explanation. You didn’t care about me, because if you did, you knew I’d be worried. You left like I was nothing.”

“That’s not true,” you say, needing to defend yourself. “I left because I needed to let you go. I was tired of one-sided love. I—”

Cameron laughs with irony, “One-sided love? You never said anything to me. Never. How can you talk about one-sided love if you never told me a thing? You couldn’t know if it was one-sided until you asked me about the way I felt.”