Nights I can't run back [tag; Atticus]

The Southern Carolina sun set gracefully behind the horizon near an hour ago, cooling the usually hot air around them. Deep blue eyes watched as the red and golden yellow flames crackled gently, reminding her of youthful summer nights with her father. Mingled in with the laughter of children she nearly felt young again, reminiscent of her teenaged years when life had been simple. Semi-full lips curved at the corners as she smiled softly to herself as the memories flooded back as if the moment had so recently happened. What it was to be young with little worry of the world? A concept she wished now that she had taken for granted. She wished more now that she had lived recklessly in her youth so that her adult life seemed more grounded. She had found her career of course but there were moments she thought she had missed out on. Things she wished she could do over of simply do to scratch off her ever growing bucket list.

Neatly manicured hands rose to play with the soft locks of her blonde hair as her eyes followed the children as she ran. Grace had been kind over the course of the summer to allow her room in the unused guest house. Her own home was near done with renovations and she could honestly say she would miss being with her friend. Cam had grown used to the routine and the company, especially with Charles traveling as much as he did. She saw him, in the distance, as he talked amongst the older kids and her gaze lingered for just a moment before drifting on. It had been awkward since he return home from summer camp. She’d taken to hiding away in the library when he was around the estate and if he happened to enter a room she was in, she would promptly make her exit. The curator wasn’t versed in how to handle the affections of a teenaged boy and she highly doubted anyone would give her sound advice.

Cameron had worried less when she discovered he would be attending camp but that worry found its way back not too long into summer. Now, she tried her best to dissuade him from advancing farther by simply avoiding him. The woman knew she would need to speak to Atticus about his ever growing infatuation but found it safer to allow the subject to go untouched. She worried about the age difference, the reaction of his closest friend and that of her husband. She worried that her words would break the fragile emotional standing she believed all kids his age to have. He had not known love to gaze at her the way he often did, but, one would think otherwise. She assumed he had jot lived through heartache and disappointment to know his feelings were simply fleeting. Nevertheless, she avoided him because she just wasn’t ready to broach the topic.

The glass of wine she had been nursing all night was rested in the grass next to the log where she sat. Delicate hands reaching out just over the flames to warm them despite the southern heat doing a fairly good job already. It seemed Cam needed her hands to keep busy and holding a glass did not justice. She stiffened as the tension in the air around her seemed to thicken, her deep blue gaze watching as Atticus drew closer. Her deep plum color lips gave way to display straight white teeth as she smiled, “Atticus.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment as her eyes moved back to watch the flames as they danced, “I do hope your summer has been lovely. Your mother told me of the summer camp you attended during the beginning of break…”this was safe conversation, “..did you enjoy it or did being away a bit longer make you wish for home. “it was better if she not look at him, better if she was simply honest about how inappropriate everything was. But, how? How was she to shatter him, knowing, she would still see him. That he would pop up on occasion with those deep brown eyes so full of questions. Her hand rose once more to push the curls from her face as she finally looked at him. “I have to say I do wish we had the option when I attended school.” Once more she looked away from him out towards the sky.

“So, have you decided on after school?” this was safer, not as heavy with the possibilities of destruction. “I’m not sure if I told you or if it was Ophelia but I traveled nearly two years after school. I chased behind what I believed to be a divine experience. “ she smiled, “I had found my calling quite quickly in art. But the travels have left a greater impression than the pieces, just seeing art immersed in its culture has a stunning impact on the mind.” Once more her hands were held out as she took a deep breath, the silence filled with the sound of the fire just at her feet. “Will you travel as your sister did as well or go straight into school?”

It was the best kind of summer evening in South Carolina.

They had spent the day— Atticus’ family, their friends, all of the kids— on the expansive back lawn overlooking the marsh, enjoying a cloudless sky that sucked in every last ounce of sun before eventually giving way to night. Atticus figured it had to be his favorite thing about that time of year.  The stretched out days had the ability to trick you into thinking that time itself could move slower. For dinner they’d had a low-country boil, sprawled over plastic lining on the picnic tables near the water, and then the dads had sparked up a bonfire despite the lingering heat already in the air.

“Here, catch!” Atticus wound up to throw the baseball to where Thomas was hesitantly running backwards, his arms outstretched. His friend was categorically uncoordinated but Atticus didn’t mind. Someone had left the muggle item at his house at some stage (Lila he figured) and he had obsessed over trying to figure out how it worked.

Wiping the residual sweat from his brow, Atticus made his way over to the fire where it had come into full swing, sparking the darkness of the sky with bright orange. He had noticed Cam sitting there long before then— admittedly he’d been showing off a little— but he approached as casually as he could muster. “Hi,” He replied to her saying his name in that way unique to her that made his heart feel like it might explode in his chest.

“Haven’t thought much about it,” Atticus let out a deep breath. Truthfully, he'd been avoiding thinking about life after Ilvermorny altogether. "Really?" He wasn't sure why but he assumed that she'd been in South Carolina for her whole life, like most of his mother's friends. "Where did you go?" His interest was piqued. For Atticus, traveling had never had a huge appeal, he much preferred the comfortability of his home, but after camp his tune was beginning to change. He'd met so many people from so many areas that he otherwise would have not given much thought to.

"You sound like my family," Fifty questions. Atticus looked over his shoulder from where he stood facing the fire back to Cameron with a grin. "S'more?" He pulled up a stick, keen to change the topic. "I make the best in Charleston," He started spearing a few marshmallows either way. "Hows the summer been here?" Atticus asked, his gaze lingering her for a moment too long on her before turning back.

Being near him should have been as hard as it felt. Her uncertainty on the matter only grew louder as her eyes drifted towards his frame. He wasn't facing her and that relaxed the woman just a bit as she watched him ie the glow of the flames in front of him. He reminded her so much of the boys she had gone to school with, admittedly the times had been different but naturally, all boys seemed to be the same. There were variations in men making them different from one another but Cam had lived long enough to know at the root of them, they were mostly all the same. She often wondered what it was that she had done to spark Atticus's sudden interest in her. She hadn't noticed at first that things had shifted between them. But if she thought back on it she could remember the dinner when she had, how she had caught his gaze across the table. She could remember how her mind had gone blank as he stared at her in a way that reminded her of her youth. The woman had tried to ignore it, the lingering stares and subtle brushes against her that would have been disregard had she not known the truth.

She could feel it, whatever it was, in the air around them as he stood at the fire and she shifted her gaze back to the night sky. "You should consider it." She nodded and her golden locks sway in motion, "I did. I went to Italy and Rome. There was a stop in Paris." She smiled fondly at the memories, "Some of the greatest moments of my life were spent abroad. Being immersed in a culture different than your own can change who you are." It had changed her. She had always been the southern bell, the most poised with just enough ambition to still be considered ladylike. Traveling had allowed her the room to find out who she was outside of the ranch life she had come to be familiar with. "I will always recommend a year of travel, it can be good for the soul."

She laughed softly, resting her hand at her collarbone. "Well, I suppose I will take that over simply sounding like a stranger." She said with a hint of amusement in her words. Family, yes that was more along the lines of how he should view whatever relationship he believed them to have. "Best in Charleston? Well, how could I pass up the best S'more I'll ever have?" She asked as a neatly arched brow rose as if to punctuate her question. Her gaze drifted towards him as the question was asked, "Better than I had hoped." There it was again, that gaze that lingered. That told her that nothing much had changed in their time apart. She looked at the fire, brows knitted tight, "I had a lot of time to think." She said cautiously, shifting in her spot as she reached for the glass of wine. "Atticus..." She glanced up at him, "will you sit with me please." She inclined her head just slightly before taking a sip from the glass.

"I think we should have a discussion concerning..." Her lips pursed as she considered how she wanted to approach things, "...how you may feel towards me." Cam looked over at the boy with lifted brows, "I get the sense that you may want something more than what is possible. If I am wrong I do apologize for my assumption." Though she knew she was right, she could still feel whatever it was behind his eyes when he stared at her. "It's just we haven't had the proper time to speak since you've come home." Mostly due to her cowardice, even now it threatened to make her take back her words and forget the matter altogether.