CAMERON

"Get up, dude," Garrett prods my back.

"I'm sleeping here for the night," I groan, burying my head under the pillow to block noise and any chance of my eyes opening.

"Bro, you've slept the night, you're about to sleep another one. It's seven. IN THE EVENING," he emphasizes, his voice grating.

"Okay. Go," I mumble, dismissing him.

"Serious Cam. You have a guest, and she's coming up," he keeps talking, making my hangover worse.

"Shut up, Garrett."

"Okay, at least I tried. Don't blame me for the condition she finds you," he heaves a sigh, and I sense the bed decompressing.

Great.

I willed myself to return to sleep as the door opened, assuring me of the coming silence I needed to follow.

"Come in. He's here," Garrett continues.

"Garrett, get out," I yell, frustrated. He's not close like earlier, he's probably talking to someone, but any bit of noise is excruciating and hurts my head.

After my outburst, a soothing silence follows, bringing me relief. I can go back to sleep.

"Cameron?" the soft, gentle, and timid voice plays in my ears, caressing my consciousness.

Amelia? Seriously?

Is the bottle of tequila I downed this potent to immerse me in illusion?

I peek with one eye open; the brightness, though dim, is brutal. I wince instantly and shut my eyes.

She's towering over me in black pants and an orange t-shirt that clings to her curves, a backpack on her back, her fingers fumbling around the strap of a tote bag. She looks apprehensive.

"What are you doing here? Or are you here with the cops?"

"I cooked... and I figured you haven't eaten since you weren't in any of your classes, so I brought it to you," she quietly lets out and I scoff at her naivety.

"So I look hungry to you?" She hurt me, and she wants to remedy that with food.

How smart, Miss Amelia.

"You look miserable," she replies.

For someone responsible for my wreck, she sure is having fun at my condition.

"I wonder whose fault it is," I sarcastically state.

She huffs loudly. I didn't ask her to put up with me; she brought herself here.

"Cam, please get up and eat."

"You should go back to your JAKE," I mock, accentuating his name. She chose him last night, defending him every time we had an altercation, even though he's the worst of humans. She has always used his good sides that he let her see, demoting and regressing my efforts to nothing, demeaning my emotions, and labeling me incapable of feelings. What would she know of me? If I could express my feelings, it would come in a massive book trilogy or more. I wish she knew I feel too, like any human, severely even. "Your pot of food wouldn't substitute for your permanence in my mind."

A hush falls as she offers no response.

Irritated with myself for caring, I release a breath, detesting this situation, but despite it all, I go on. I steal another glance at her.

She appears disheartened, eyes lowered to the ground, swallowing. Despite her declaration of not wanting me, here she stands, inflicting another pang in my chest; the sight of her is truly dismal.

"How did you even know I was here?" I ask, and her eyes fly to me instantly.

"Alex. He's downstairs. He came to get your key earlier," she mumbles, her eyes filled with tears. I didn't even say anything rude to her.

Fine, I guess I have to eat. "Okay, keep the food and go."

A wave of gloom momentarily passes over her face, but she tries to hide it.

"I-" She wavers, her lips hanging parted.

"Princess, I've told you I don't want to see you." How can she not understand that seeing her only exacerbates our situation? She wants me to quell whatever feelings I have for her, so putting distance between us seems like the best solution here.

"But we are housemates," she croaks. "You are not going to stay here forever. You have to come back to your house." She gnaws on her inner cheeks.

Gazing at her, she leaves me puzzled. I cannot comprehend her at all. What does she genuinely want from me? She wants me to leave, yet she wants me to stay. She consistently weighs both her mind and her subconscious, anticipating me to be the arbiter between them. But how can I be, if she herself can't decide? Why would she entrust me with that authority?

I've never been close to any girl to discern if this is typical behavior for them, nor can I read minds to discern Amy's thoughts that she expects me to automatically know. Which would have been truly advantageous in this circumstance.

"Will you let me kiss you?" I ask her straightforwardly.

A sudden shock manifests on her face, evident in the subtle tremor of her lips and the widening of her eyes. "Cam..." Her throat shifts, and her mouth is slightly agape.

She gives no answer for me.

"Will you let me lay with you?" I ask again. This time, her eyes close with a pinch, and she clenches her jaws, as though enduring the most physical discomfort.

"Will you let me touch you with no restrictions or regrets surfacing afterward?" I inquire.

"Cameron, you know that's not possible," she choked, looking heavenward, either praying or blinking those heavy tears away.

"Then I think you and I need space." is what's best for us.

"No, we don't," she retorts. "Don't even entertain that idea..." She grumbles, her eyes wide and filled with despondency. I rub my forehead, taking a calming breath. On top of my hangover headache, she arrives and inflicts an even harsher one. I am utterly sick.

"What's bothering you, Princess?" I grit, struggling to contain my frustration, wary that she might start shedding tears, making me out to be the bad guy.

"You and Harper have always been inseparable, but no matter how much I despised it, how it tore me apart, I never distanced myself from you. I didn't walk away. I stayed, I suffered, I endured hell for you, Cameron," she fires, her stare wild, and anger emanating from her. "In fact, I go to her house every day, listen to you two together, take care of her brother, and even assist her in selecting scarves and bags you bought for her so she can look good for you." She adorably clenches her free hand into a fist in the air as she grits in frustration. "If I have to endure that, you will too for me. I don't care, Cam. You will suffer for me too; you will endure it. God help me if I have to drag you out of here. I will." She stomps her small foot, her lips pressed in a hard line, and her hand balled into a fist by her side.

I'm struck by astonishment, my jaw drops as I watch her.

"You will get up, and we will go home now, together." She emphasizes.

"Okay!" Where did that courage come from?

"Okay?" She repeats my words nervously, gasping in surprise and blinking.

"I mean, you aren't kidding about dragging me and having me live the torture of seeing you with someone that's not me, are you?" I mutter, cautiously eyeing her.

"I am not." She shakes her head, her lips pressing to a thin line briefly. "But do not make it sound like that." She blows out a breath, apparently fazed and mortified under my amused gaze.

"That's exactly how it sounded. You threatened me. I guess it's one-one now." I point out.

"It wasn't a threat."

It sure was. I shoot a side-eye at her, and she looks away, twitching her lips.

She's adorable; I couldn't help but smile.

"Okay, I will come with you." I agree and sit up, blowing out a breath at the prevailing headache. "Somehow I knew you were coming to bail me in any circumstance. And I am right."

"Don't get too carried away. I felt sorry for you because you're homeless again," she scoffs, turning around and retrieving my shoes from the other side of the room. I laugh at her abrupt shift in perception.

"Anything you tell yourself to sleep at night, Princess." I wink at her, and she exasperatedly rolls her eyes and looks away, tossing the shoes at me. I groan, and my back lands on the mattress.

"Get up; let's go." She cautions, kicking my feet.