CAMERON

I've never gotten myself on a flight so quickly in my life.

"I'm hopeful it will be fine," Garrett says.

"Believe me, she's bluffing. There is no way a full-grown human being with common sense puts something that's not theirs on a bet," Layton scoffs from the other row.

Common sense? I doubt Amy possesses any. If she does, she'll prove me wrong by detaching herself from the man she's supposed to forget and dismiss from her life.

"Why will she do that, though? Shouldn't she be taking revenge on Jake, not you?" Layton asks, and I tense inside.

"Perhaps it's because you're his best friend, I believe. She thinks you're involved in it, and to be honest, you are. You were aware that Jake had Erin while he was with Amy. You even accommodated both of them in your home before Amy moved to Portland. If she finds out, she might plan revenge against both of you, my friend," Garrett points out, while there's this ticking of time in my head, crawling me towards fear with gravity.

Truth always operates in two ways: either bringing enlightenment or constraining one's emotional well-being within the cage of guilt.

Garrett is correct, even though I can't vocalize it, I concur. The regret I harbor is that, during those periods when Jake brought Erin to me, I ignored the negative aspects of him, playing oblivious to the fact that he was causing real harm to someone, simply because I hadn't yet met Amy. Moreover, I was captivated by his kindness towards me, unable to fathom that Jake could do wrong in any way.

It has been a tormenting two-plus hours, and when our flight lands back in Portland, it's two minutes past ten at night. Luckily, we didn't have to wait or get a cab, for I demanded Harper to pick us up. I had talked to her before we boarded, and that's when she told me Amy was co-hosting Deeja's Halloween party, and what's more concerning is that it has been shifted to my house, where she promised to gift men she kisses my fucking car.

My thoughts fizzle out as Harper comes over, throwing herself into my arms.

"How are you?" She mumbles in my ears, so no one can hear, although the boys are already getting into the car, and the buzz of the atmosphere could swallow coherent discussions, so we are safe.

"I swear I will go mad," I exhale a breath, and she pulls out of the hug, looking at me with concern.

"Cam, maybe it is the time to come clean to her," she suggests sadly, "Tell her everything. The girl hates me. It's easy to tell her behavior doesn't have anything to do with Jake; we both know she's always being pulled towards you more than him. She just doesn't find the safety and assurance she wants from you because of me and your history, and that's what is causing all this chaos. If only she knows you gross me out." She wiggles her eyes playfully.

I am dumbfounded for a moment but think it through.
"I can't risk this for that. The slightest moment she talks, you and I are done. I can't lose you again. It doesn't matter if I love her or not; that is not worth losing you, again." I accentuated.

Harper steps back a little, her eyes blinking. "You love her?"

My brain contradicts the words that slipped out of my mouth.
"What? No!" It was an ordinary mistake. I do not mean it like that. "It was an error. A miss of words. You should know better," I add and head for the passenger's side.

I can't possibly love. I am incapable of falling into that unrealistic emotional trap that naive people fall into.

"Cameron," she calls persistently.

I am having this conversation right now or ever.
"Let's go, Harp,"

"Cameron?"

When I pull open the door and she's still standing there, I look back with disapprobatory eyes and tell her, "I will hold you responsible if I lose my car. Get in and drive."

She huffs and sighs, rolling her eyes but gives in and circles over to the driver's side.

"Hey, Cameron?" "You are looking good as every day," Rose and Bree say in unison as I get into the car.

My eyes flick to the rearview mirror and I flash a smile at them in response. The boys are squeezing into the back seat with Harper's two girlfriends.

Harper steps on the accelerator, switching lanes on the freeway.

She is fast, trying to win against time. My anxiety rises with every second, wondering what crazy thing Amy is doing right now. I know soul-shattering nervousness now, the narrow depth it could make one travel to. I experience it all through the drive as we stop at every traffic, and I worry we won't make it.

On the outside, I maintain composure, nodding along as the boys and Harper outline the plan to evacuate the house once we arrive. However, inwardly, I don't absorb any of the details; my mind is preoccupied with how Amy consistently gets on my nerves. Hopefully, I'm not assigned a task; otherwise, I'm certain I'll be the one responsible for the plan's failure due to my lack of awareness.

Upon arrival, I knew I was doomed when we couldn't find a parking space even outside the gate, and I promise I do have a massive driveway.

The time says; 10:27.

"This is sick," Layton remarks at the amount of cars.

"Of course, everyone would come to Cameron's house," Garrett jokes, laughing along with everyone in the back, but just like me, Harper knows the risk.

The locked rooms there hold memories of our family. They have been that way for years. I never invite many people because I do not want that privacy breached, but now I have the entire school in my house, and the possibility of horny students breaking down bedroom doors is over a hundred.

The amount of unfairness Amy has slapped me in the face with for this night alone is burdensome to take in. One, she threatens to kiss seven men. Two, she's intruding on my privacy, three, taking it into her hands to be responsible for my possessions.

I can't wait; I have to go.

"Just stop here," I say, and compliantly, Harper begins slowing down, but before she can stop completely, I jump out of the car.

My chest pulsates, blood rises to the top of my throat, and I can smell it. The house is filled with so many strange faces, wearing strange outfits.

Argh, Amy. I don't want to hurt her, not physically at least, but she's stepping on my toes. Mind you, this is the girl who left me and said she didn't want anything to do with me, but all of a sudden, this is the result I got.

Reaching into the living room, I proceed to examine different people in costumes for her. There are assholes and drunks doing the wrong things with my furniture. It's irritating. In normal circumstances, I'd kick everyone out, but for this moment, my priority is finding Amy.

What could've caused her to do this?

"Hey," I feel a tug at my hand over the loud music, and I look over, hoping it was her, but it's Harper. She is here fast; she must have found someone to park the car for her. "She's on the patio," she says when she pulls me lower by the arm.

I charge forward towards the double doors, but she makes another grab for me, her hand landing on my bicep.

"What?" I ask over the loud music bouncing and vibrating through every object and human's pores.

"At least, tell her you and I aren't together," she says in my ears.

"She doesn't believe me." She's so goddamn stubborn I reply in her ear also.

"Just try." As Harper says this, my expression falters; I found Amy. She has spotted me, and all that I can see on her face is the hunger for retaliation, her eyes shifting between me and Harper who is embracing me.

A lot of wrong things are happening; one of them is that she's taking off her clothes, which seem to be the only normal outfit here, except for mine and Harper's. My panicked eyes look over to the clock on the wall; the disco lights make it hard to tell, but I am sure it's past 10:30, for I've wasted time searching for her around the house.

She's left standing now in lingerie, her perfect body not anyone's to look at; I gulp at the fire igniting in me. Her pink plump lips quiver, those dear lips I've only thought to be mine, and distant clouds her demeanor.

"What is she doing?" I hear Harper ask as a hush fills my ears.

Fright replaces irritation when I notice the seven tables, with seven men lying shirtless over them. My stomach growls; the temperature in the room seems to drop.

Hell no!

I have a heightened urge to kill someone this night, and Amy multiplies it a millionfold when she crawls over one of the seven tables in between the open legs of the first man lying there, her butt cheeks out for everyone to see. I look around, there are excited people smiling everywhere.

This is the biggest disagreement I've ever had with myself; two instincts are screaming at me. One is to get out of here before I mess up everything, and the other says, screw it; my fists are thirsty for blood.