AMELIA

"Hey, love?" I hear the gentle voice in my ear and feel a hand brushing my hair.

My eyes open. Although the curtains aren't pulled back, the room is still bright. It is morning, and Jake is sitting by the edge of the bed, right next to me, already dressed and ready to leave for work.

My eyes squint, and I begin looking for the clock.
"Am I late for school?" I ask him, searching for my phone, but he leans over and kisses my head, calming me.

"You are not, love. It's still early. I didn't want to wake you up," he says and I rest my hand on his.

"You're up early."

"Yes, I have to go, but I will be home earlier too. I will make us a reservation for dinner," he announces, and my eyes light up. I prop up on my elbow.

When he was away, I dreamed of a fancy dinner with him, and it's coming true.

"Really?"

"Yes, this time, I will make it happen, there will be no obstacles," he assures, the back of his hand brushing my cheek. "I will see you later, okay?" he says and leans in for a kiss, but abruptly, I pull the sheets, shielding my mouth. He will be kissing my morning breath and I don't like that idea.

"I didn't brush my teeth," I defend, and his eyes narrow.

"I don't care."

"On the cheeks, please," I angle my head and jut out my cheek. Jake smiles, shaking his head, but he lets it slide and smooches me there.

"I love you," he says and gets up.

"I love you too," I beam, biting my lip while watching him leave the room.

As the door closes, I hurry out of bed and head to the bathroom. I need to fit in some shopping between my lectures for something to wear for Jake and I's dinner. There's a boutique near the campus, so it will be easy; I'll have to check reviews about their prices, though, to make sure I stay within my budget. I'm working on recovering the money I used to bail Cam out of jail, which came from my savings for a car.

While I'm wearing my makeup, my stomach is grumbling. I haven't eaten anything, and I'm on the call with Carl. He called to check on me, and I didn't know how to tell him this wasn't the right time, but of course, I didn't let back the part that I have dinner with Jake tonight, and that's the last thing we discussed. We said 'I love you' and ended the call.

Downstairs, I make some latte and put it into a thermal mug, grab some cookies Alex bought from grocery shopping the other day, and leave for the cab I called, which has just arrived on time.

Cam's car isn't parked in the driveway; I'm guessing he didn't sleep at home. He might probably be at that place where he gets to beat people.

Is it even healthy to fight every day? I wouldn't care though. He's an adult; he can decide what's right and wrong for him, and if he can't, he has Harper to do it for him.

Today I am happy; nothing can destroy my joy. It's going to be only Jake and our dinner that I will think of. Cam can go to hell.

I get into the car, and the driver takes off.

However, that expectancy of a good day I have is short-lived; I witness tragedy reflected in the eyes of my two friends as I get out of the cab at school.

Malia and Isaac are sitting by the stairs of the auditorium for our next lecture, and they rise immediately when they spot me.

What could make them this gloomy?

"Hey?" I stare at their faces in confusion. Malia is holding a piece of paper; I look over at it.

"It's Deeja's Hollywood-style Halloween party," she dismisses and hugs me instead.

"Why are you guys despondent and melancholy?" I ask, staring at Isaac who is towering over us, and he looks away.

Okay, seriously.

I pull out of the hug gently and shift my eyes between them.

"Tell me?" I press.

"Amy, have you seen what's trending in school?" Malia starts.

"What?"

Isaac holds out his phone to me, and there are the headlines, all saying Harper Clarke and Cameron Reynolds are officially dating.

I scoff, "I mean, obviously, they are close but not this close. Cameron won't date anyone."

"Amy, I think they made it official this weekend," she sympathetically says, and I shake my head because I am not an idiot.

"They traveled together to LA," Isaac explains quietly.

The evidence is everywhere but I don't want to believe it. I looked around; there were people passing, but none heard my silent cries, and no one knew of the girl who was losing it.

"That's not true. That headline is a lie." He came to me that day and put a bracelet around my hand. He called me his. "No way that is right." I exhale, wiping my face.

Malia's stare is sad and apologetic. But she didn't do anything to me. It is Cam; he is the cause of all my pain.

"Harper posted some stories to her close friends and it linked out. She and Cameron were together the whole weekend, they went to a basketball game, and spa, I can't list out the rest."

No, she has to. I have to know everything.
"What more?" I press, and she swallows, looking down.

"Dinner at a seafood restaurant and Hermes shopping," she mumbles, and all the time I stare at her lips moving, I feel a numbing feeling and emptiness, nothing can compare to.

"I am sorry, Amy. But you have to not listen to whatever rubbish he will say to you anymore," Malia adds, but I wasn't able to concentrate.

"I can't believe him. I don't understand why a person will do this," Isaac despairingly says.

"To sabotage a good thing. He wants to ruin what you and Jake have," Malia angrily answers. They said a lot of things more, but I wasn't able to hear them. Everything around me is mute; it is like I am alone in this world. The silence was too loud; it could turn me deaf.

"You sure he and Jake don't have some grudges between them?" Malia asks me, and my eyes widen at her until her question slowly registers in my head.

"If they do, why will he open his door to us?" There is this void in my aching chest, leaving me dizzy and disoriented; it is as if the ground beneath me has shifted.

"I don't know, but it doesn't make sense the game Cameron is playing. You can't go to your best friend's girl and play her head like this when you have someone you're dating secretly. What is he trying to achieve? He has a lot to lose, matter of fact."

He is just mean. He has always been.

Carefully, I put one leg in front of the other towards the balustrades, and my body slides down against it until I am curled up, burying my face in my arms.

"I hate him," I mumble to myself. "I hate him." Maybe saying it will lessen the searing in my chest and the whirlwind of emotions that are standing up to my fragile soul.