AMELIA

Lost and hopeless, I jog back into Deeja's driveway, desperate to ask someone for their phone.

There's this fucked-up game going on where people are upside down on a keg, chugging beer through a pipe. The crowd cheers like it's the best shit they've ever seen.

"Hey, can I use your phone? I need to get a cab," I ask some girl, tapping her on the shoulder. She turns around and gives me a once-over.

"I need to call a cab," she mimics my distress, and the rest of the girls burst into laughter.

Holding back my fucking tears, I exhale and scan the area. I spot some wasted guys leaning on a jeep. They look like they're about to puke, but I'm desperate as hell. I charge at them.

"Hey, can I use your phone?" I beg.

"What the fuck does she want?"

"She needs a phone, dumbass," some voice comes from inside the open car. A guy jumps out with curls covering his eyes, blowing thick smoke. He looks dangerous.

Feeling him sizing me up, my breath freezes, and I start backing away.

"Come on, I don't bite. I'll give you a damn phone," he laughs, chillingly, along with the rest of the assholes. My brain screams to run, but my legs are stuck.

He's shoved abruptly, landing on the lawn, scared shitless. "GET LOST," Cam growls at them, and the assholes scuttle back to their Jeep.

Now everyone's attention is on us like we're some fucking circus act.

"Let's talk, okay?" Cameron says, now looking and acting calmer.

Hell no.

I know a psycho when I see one. Cam's crazy. His mood swings aren't safe for anyone around him.

I bolt away from him and out the gate, hoping to find a cab. But he's following me. His long strides overtake me, and he reaches for my hand.

All my alarms go off, and I yelp.

"Okay. I won't touch you. But listen, Princess."

"Stop calling me that," I step away.

"Okay. Okay." He holds out his hands, surrendering. "I'm sorry-"

"What part? Getting me in trouble at my job or almost hitting me there?"

"I'd never hit you, I swear." He looks away, regrettably, breathing for a moment.

And that's my point. He's hot, then cold, then hot again. How the fuck can I ever understand him when his emotions are all over the damn place?

"I shouldn't have. I guess I am who I am." He mumbles, more to himself, but I hear it. Not it stirs my curiosity.

"What do you mean?" I try making eye contact to bring back his attention, and it works. He looks back at me, as though he just got back to his senses.

"I'm sorry I got you fired at your job." He says. "I talked to Harper; her parents are workaholics, and she has a baby brother. Her family is willing to pay you a hundred dollars for four hours of babysitting every day."

Harper?

I laugh so hard my stomach hurts. He stares at me like I'm out of my mind, and that's because he's lost it.

"You want me to work as a nanny for your-" I crack furiously. "Whatever she is to you?"

"I thought it was a good offer, and you won't have to overwork yourself." He dares to fucking mutter.

"Oh, Cameron. You're such a dick if you think I'll degrade myself that low for Harper." I grumble, feeling scorching in my chest.

"Having the easiest job is degrading? Or is it because I know her?" He scoffs with wide eyes.

"I. Will. Not. Work. Under. Your. Bitch. Final." I grit in his stupid face.

"So you'd rather let that offer slip because of your damn pride?" He fires back like I'm the one being fucking unbelievable.

"I hate you more than anyone I've ever come across." I spat and took off. Then a realization hits me, and I spin and spew, "Well, FYI I still have a job there. But you got an innocent guy fired who probably survived on the pay. I hope you're fucking happy." I hand him his guilt to fucking swallow, and he lowers his eyes to the grass between us. "You're so wicked, Cam."

His shoulders slump, and he doesn't say anything back. No point wasting my time here.

"I guess I'm trekking to a fucking hotel." I laugh at my misfortune.

"You're not going home?" I hear him ask behind me as I pass between his silent group of friends.

"It's not my home," I utter dismissively.

He keeps following, like what I do matters to him. "Jake is there. He won't like this idea, you know?"

I scoff, nodding sarcastically. Nice try.

"Jake isn't coming home tonight. He's in Cannon Beach for work. So perfect for me." I look back over my shoulder at him with the happiest smile while I am a mess inside.

"What?" He stops, blinking. "Cannon Beach?"

"I wish he'd take me with him away from you," I remark, looking down and up the empty street.

"For work?" He asks as though he has a fucking comprehension problem.

I'm depleted. I blanked him out, focusing on finding another way out of this mess. After a while, I sensed him retreating from beside me. When I looked back, there he was, glued to his phone screen, pressing it to his ear. It's like he conveniently forgot that he flat-out refused to lend me a hand with it just a few damn minutes ago.

Shameless human.