28. Mission
Iwake up after only an hour and a half of sleep. Cameron’s alarm clock tells me it’s not even one in the morning. Stef found a way to slither into my dreams, keeping me tossing and turning under Cameron’s protective arms. I appreciate him pretending to sleep, there is no chance he could stay down.
I turn once more, leaning my head against Cameron. I pull his covers over my shoulder. Cameron’s chest rises with a heavy inhale, and he tightens his arm around me. “What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“Stef harassing me at the Christmas party.” Thanks to my sleepiness, the truth escapes. Rather harshly.
Cameron bolts upright, causing my head to fall flat on his pillow. “Tell me that you’re joking. Tell me you’re kidding, or I’ll have to kill him.”
I sit up and rest my chin on his shoulder, my hand over his heart. “I’m okay.”
He latches onto me and turns so our faces are inches apart. “Don’t try to comfort me. That’s my job.” He looks away from me. “I need a hit.” He swings his legs over the bed, but I grab his arm.
“Kiss me instead. I can be your hit.”
He lets out a throaty laugh. He leans in and kisses my cheek. To my disappointment, he still walks to his bong.
“Seriously stop,” I urge him.
He sighs, dropping the bong. He opens his desk drawer and pulls out a vape pen.
I hop out of his bed and grab the pen from him. His shoulders sink, and he looks sad. “Why won’t you let me smoke?”
“It’s not the solution.”
“You weren’t saying that before, were you? When you thought it was hot. This is how I cope.”
“This is different. I didn’t mean to make you anxious. I’m okay. I promise. I’m going to report him.”
Cameron rakes a hand through his hair. “He still touched you.”
“I came to you so I could relax. So I could forget about what happened tonight. Put the vape down and hold me while I attempt to sleep.”
“You think I’ll fall asleep?” Despite his words, he comes back to his bed.
After many moments of silence, I trace my finger over his wave tattoo. “Won’t you tell me what this means?”
“Tomorrow,” he says.
“Come on, we both won’t be falling asleep anytime soon.”
Cameron lies facing the ceiling, one arm linked with mine. “Ocean. It’s for Ocean.”
“Your cat?”
“My sister.”
A chill sends goose bumps down my arms. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”
He throws an arm over his head and tucks it under his hair. “I don’t.”
I prop myself up on an elbow and slide my hand under his shirt, hopefully offering some kind of comfort. I kiss his cheek. “Tell me more.”
He smiles tightly but it fades quickly. “When I was around five years old, my mom started trying to get pregnant as per my request for a sibling. Three months in, my parents succeeded. It was a miracle she even had me though, so my dad didn’t want to get too excited.” His eyes meet mine. “The doctors told her she had a hostile uterus. Not being able to fully support a fetus. Whatever the fuck that means.” He looks back to the ceiling.
I think my gaze is making him nervous, so I lower my head to rest against his shoulder.
“Despite my dad’s worries, they both started thinking of names by the second trimester. My dad choosing ones like Richard and Samantha with my mom choosing ones like Ocean and fuckin’ Countertop.”
I laugh and give him a kiss. He returns it with force, unwilling to let go. I have the sad task of pulling away. Based on what I have already heard, I have an idea of where this story is going, and he needs to know I’m right here with him.
I trace a finger along the outline of his abs.
“My dad got to name me,” he goes on. “So, my mom got to name her Ocean. After where she was conceived.”
“They had sex on a beach?”
He giggles because he’s adorable. “Bedroom sex gets boring if it’s all you’re doing. Anyway, Ocean was living comfortably in my mom for another few months until…she—” He exhales and takes a second before he continues. “She slipped and fell down half a flight of stairs. Gave her a concussion and a broken leg, in addition to a goddamn miscarriage.”
The beating of my heart quickens, and I have to place my hand over my chest to settle it. “Oh my God.”
He licks his lips. “It was really bad, and it took long as shit for my parents to recover. Once I was old enough to understand, I told myself I’d get a tattoo for her. Eighteenth birthday I finally got one. We’ve had our cat for nine years. Her name is why my mom said she was basically my sister. Because she kinda is. Poor replacement, but you have no idea how my parents craved that baby. A little girl.
“Those years between Ocean and the cat, my mom slipped into a depression. Drugs, alcohol. They almost split up, subconsciously blaming each other for what happened. My uncle urged them to get therapy. It got them closer in the end, and they’re both on antidepressants. Mom calls them her damn happy pills. Man, after that they never tried again. It kind of killed their spirit.”
My Cameron. My sweet boy. He has a permanent mark on his skin for a sister he never got to have. I wasted my time in high school wondering where my perfect guy was, all while ignoring the one I had beside me all along. My heart aches to know he spent so much time loving me when I paid no mind.
“They work,” I say after too much silence.
“Yeah, they’re way happier now. So am I. Just anxious as hell.”
“Me too.”
Cameron lets out the slightest moan. “Do me a favor.”
“Anything,” I tell him.
“I’m getting all hot and bothered with your hand making circles on my skin. Can you either remove your hand or move it lower.”
I burst into laughter. My cheeks warm at his request, but I can’t move my hands. He’s so comforting. “You move it if you want,” I challenge, surprised at myself for saying such a scandalous thing.
Cameron covers my hand with his and pushes it down. He smiles at me, his cheeks a beautiful, soft pink.
Lucky me that Tamara stayed this weekend. I’m on a mission today. She and I meet for brunch, and I spill everything that happened at the Christmas party. A heavy focus on how I think Brazely is behind it. Makes all the sense in the world seeing as she is the most possessive person I have ever met in my life. And obsessive.
“You really think she’s the mastermind behind Stef’s behavior? Maybe he’s just a pig.” Tamara asks me.
“He is,” I say. “But she sucked his face off, which I found pretty disgusting and suspicious.”
Tamara raises an eyebrow and shrugs. “She’s a proud lesbian. It is suspicious. Men repulse her—she’s told me that much.”
I bite my tongue to keep from laughing at her deadpanned comment. “Are you going to talk to her?”
She pinches the bridge of her nose and releases a heavy exhale. “I have to. It’s my fault. Kissing you in front of her definitely didn’t help. I was stupid for hoping it would. It just provoked her more.” She looks at me and gives me an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not. It only puts more targets on your back. I cannot believe she joined forces with that sex addict.” She is silent for a moment, then groans. “Lainey, if I confront her, would you come with me? Just as moral support? You can be out of sight. It’s just, we were in love once, and at this point the only way to end this is to be frank with her. I have no idea if I could go through with it alone.”
“Sure. I have to be invisible. I don’t want to die before my wedding.”
Tamara shoots Brazely a message that she will be stopping by soon. To no one’s surprise, Brazely responds quite enthusiastically. Part of me feels bad, she’s probably assuming Tamara has finally come to her senses and wants to take her back. Boy, is she in for a rude awakening.
She leads me through Brazely’s floor, and we stop in front of a door with a piece of caution tape pasted onto it. Her and her roommate’s door tags hang just below it. I give Tamara an encouraging nod and speak softly. “Don’t back down. It’s better for both of you that you do this.”
Tamara nods to me, a hint of uncertainty in her expression. Despite that, she knocks as I retreat backward until I am hidden behind a wall.
The door opens, and Brazely’s voice is something I have never heard—kind. “Hey, Tam. Do you want to come in?”
“I can’t, sorry. I just need to get something off my chest.”
Brazely steps out into the hall. “Okay. I’m really happy you reached out. I’ve been thinking about?—”
“Brazely, I need you to understand that we’re not together anymore.”
Silence.
Tamara goes on. “And it really should not matter to you which girls I date or befriend.”
Brazely scoffs. “I don’t think I know what you mean.”
I have hid myself in the “L” of the hall, so I can only hear what’s going on.
“Lainey. Leave her alone. She’s done nothing to you.”
“I am leaving her alone.”
“The Christmas party says differently.”
Brazely heaves a sigh. “What did she tell you I did?”
“You and Stef need to back off.”
“But I?—”
“I didn’t come here to argue, I came here to get a message across. We broke up. I don’t love you anymore. Lainey is a friend of mine. If you want to stay in my good graces, you have to give me space and stay away from my friends.”
Brazely’s words come out strained and sad. “You kissing her at the pier was just to hurt me, wasn’t it?”
“No. I was hoping you would get the message that I had moved on. That you can stop texting and calling. I don’t hurt people just to hurt them.”
“What the hell do you call this then?”
It’s Tamara that lets out a sigh now. “You have to move on. I am going to have friends, and I am going to date other people. So are you. Whether man or woman, you cannot interfere with that. You cannot scare them away because you refuse to accept reality.” There’s a beat before she speaks again. “Please.”
A sniff on Brazely’s end. “Did Lainey tell you to do this to me?”
“No. This was my idea because I think we both need closure.”
“Looks like you already found some a long time ago,” Brazely retorts bitterly.
“You need it then. I don’t want to cast you aside. I would much rather you accept this and we be friends, but I cannot associate myself with someone who wants me to be so unhappy.”
“I don’t want that.”
“Then stop scaring off my friends. Excuse me now, I have to leave this conversation here.”
I hear Tamara’s footsteps and a door opening and closing. Assuming it is Brazely, I step into the open, linking an arm through Tamara’s.
“You did great,” I tell her.
We hit the door, and I check behind me. The sight sends shivers down my spine. A Jane Doe walks toward us in the hall, and Brazely stares directly into my eyes still outside her door. My heart sinks. I push the door to the stairwell open, and we disappear down it. Heartbroken Brazely is even more lethal than jealous Brazely.
Rest in Peace to myself.