Chapter 38
Shay-Lee
C amilo was still fast asleep when I stepped out of the shower, and seeing him spread on our bed like a dead man was somehow charming. Fixing the collar of my shirt, I then sprayed a bit of my cologne on my wrist and neck, all while watching him shift in his sleep. I had to get up first for work, but regardless of that, Camilo was never much of a morning person. To say the least . When we were in high school, that man could sleep through an apocalypse without batting an eye, hence why finally seeing him sleep soundly was such a heartwarming relief.
He’d been meeting with Blaire for only a few weeks, but the change was already noticeable. I wasn’t saying he was cured. Fuck no. Camilo had far too many wounds on top of scars from all layers of his life that needed to be treated, and it wasn’t going to happen overnight or even over a year. Healing takes time. And God be our witness, did Camilo have a lot of healing ahead of him. Growing up with an abusive father, losing his sister to a brutal tragedy, and living through the aftermath only to witness his own mother’s suicide. The following years were one long struggle to survive on his own while being tossed from one prison cell to another. And that was just his childhood. I mean, since high school, he’d lost Iván, was framed for a crime he didn’t commit, and only got his freedom back thanks to a deal made with the devil. The last four years were clearly the last straw, as not even Camilo could handle so much.
He’s only human, after all.
One could look at us and almost laugh because between Camilo and me, it was as if we were competing over who had the most fucked-up life. But whatever. He was finally starting to heal, and that was the only thing that mattered. While Blaire did write him a prescription for some medication that seemed to help, the biggest change was him going to see her nearly every day. I think what also helped was him working with me on my fashion show. Vito loved the idea of a “dancewalk” instead of a catwalk when I pitched it to him, and since I’d received the green light, Camilo was fully on board. He left his shitty job at the cardboard factory, and after that, we cast our models together, who were basically dancers, and he started working on choreography. It sounded wild; I knew that it did, but dancing was also a part of his recovery. Camilo was definitely a confident man, and yet, years of facing this horrible world almost entirely alone, taking one punch after another, left him with a lot of self-doubts. He had zero faith in his talent, and it hurt me personally. Why? Because he was a genius when it came to dancing, and at last, he was starting to see it, too. He was learning that there was another way of living life, even if it felt like a hard fetch at times.
I was just done with making myself a shot of espresso when Camilo’s phone rang from where it was charging next to our bed. Taking my coffee with me, I went over there to shut it off so it wouldn’t wake him up. I grabbed the device while downing my shot in one go, and the brew of my expensive coffee made me a bit less irritated when I saw the name on the screen.
“That little cockroach,” I muttered after sending Oro to voicemail. That nuisance of a human being was calling and texting Camilo every now and then, telling him how much he missed him, just like the parasite that he was. Ugh . I would have called an exterminator to get rid of this problem if not for Camilo reassuring me I had nothing to worry about, as Oro was just some bored kid. And while I wanted to argue and say that a twenty-year-old hooker was anything but a kid and that I did a lot worse when I was much younger than him, I didn’t. Camilo was going through a rough time, and I wanted to make his life as easy as possible. Besides, Oro could call Camilo all he wanted, and it wouldn’t change a thing, as my man, who was just waking up by the sounds coming from him, was a sucker for me and me alone.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I greeted him while putting his phone down.
“What time is it?” he asked, voice heavy with sleep.
“It’s early, go back to sleep.” I leaned down to give him a small kiss, and he grabbed the back of my head and kept me there. I nearly dropped my glass in surprise, yet got a hold of it and kissed him back. Not minding his morning breath, I submitted to his mouth, allowing his tongue to explore me before he tugged on my bottom lip.
“Then come back to bed.” He moved his hand to rest on my wrist, his fingers softly caressing my skin. “It’s cold without you.”
Aww.
“I have to go to work, but how about we eat lunch together? I’ll come by the studio.” We rented a small studio not far from Renieri’s headquarters, where he was working on the choreography for the show.
His hand still held on to my wrist, almost like he was scared to let go. It was cute as fuck.
“Sounds good.” He moved his hand away to tuck it under his pillow. “Lock the door after you, and drive safely.”
“I always do.”
He snorted. “Tell that to someone who doesn’t know you.”
“Asshole.” I slapped his chest and got up.
After placing my empty glass in the sink, I grabbed my things and moved toward the door. Before getting out, I turned to look at him one last time; he was too big for our bed, so much so that his feet hung over the end of the mattress. Maybe I should start looking for a new place for us? As lovely as it had been living here for the past couple of weeks, I think it was time for us to move forward and get a fresh start in a place that had a bed big enough so Camilo’s cute feet wouldn’t stick out.
With my arms full of takeout food I’d bought for Camilo and our little modeling crew, I made my way back from the restaurant to my car. Assuming they were probably starving after dancing for hours, I decided to make a small stop at Camilo’s favorite vegan place in the city. It served this awesome crispy quinoa dish that even I, a proud carnivore, found delicious. Since my arms were occupied with the takeout paper bags, I tried coordinating a move to grab the keys out of my pocket. Yet, in the process of doing that, I screwed up.
“Fuck,” I swore as I lost my handle on one of the bags. I tried stopping it from falling to the ground by doing a weird dance that probably made me look like an idiot when someone came to my rescue.
“Thank you,” I breathed out, thankful that no food was spilled and that I didn’t need to go back and stand in line again. Yet, my smile slowly wore off as I focused on the hands that still held my paper bag, and I looked up.
“What the fuck?” I snarled in Jordan’s face while taking a step back, nearly stumbling on my feet.
“Watch it, or you’ll drop your food.” He tried reaching toward me when I snatched my other food bag from his arms and held it close to my chest.
“Who gives a shit? Get the hell away from me.”
“Shay-Lee.”
Looking around the conveniently empty parking lot, I held my head high. “I’m this close to calling my private security—”
“I already know that you lied about that,” he said, cutting into my words.
Caught off guard, I gaped at him. “How do you know that?”
He shrugged. “I checked.”
My eyes widened, and angry, I held my bags so hard they might have ripped. “You’re spying on me now, too?”
Jordan stopped walking and pointed at my arms. “Seriously, Shay-Lee, you’re about to rip those bags. Just let me help you.”
“I. Don’t. Care. Psycho.”
His jaw twitched, but he looked more annoyed than angry.
“You’re not actually scared I’ll hurt you, are you?” He frowned, and when I kept a straight face, he held both hands in front of him. “For God’s sake, Shay-Lee. I just want to talk. I swear that’s all.”
“Why?” I barked.
“Jeez, I don’t know.” He looked around before going back to me. “Maybe ’cause we’ve been together for two years, and breaking up sucks?”
My eyes locked with his, and even though he didn’t seem intimidating and more like his usual pathetic self, I still had no intention of having a conversation with him. “I will never go back to you.”
Looking at the ground, he huffed. “You think I don’t know that?”
His voice was so sad it almost made me pity him. Almost .
“You think I don’t know I never had a chance to begin with?” He kicked some dirt with his shoe, then raised his head up.
Seeing the clear acceptance on his face was… hard.
“I just wanted to know if we can still be friends?”
“Friends?” My brows pulled close as I recalled a conversation I’d had with Camilo not long after Jordan and I broke up. “Aren’t friends supposed to trust each other?” I challenged him with a raised chin as his confusion grew. “Camilo told me about what you said to him. About how you doubt my dad ever abused me, Jordan. It was one thing to throw a bottle at my face, but finding out you’ve been with me for two years, only to think I lied the whole time?”
His mouth opened and closed several times before he squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed hard. “I should have never said that, but that night— fuck . I don’t think that way. I swear.” He then bit on his bottom lip and shook his head. “If you’d just let me apologize… I’ll be able to explain.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t care about your apology.”
Ignoring the pain on his face, I began walking back to my car. When I reached it, I placed the bags on the hood before pulling out my keys.
“Please, Shay-Lee. There are things I need to tell you, things that weigh on my conscience.”
“Sucks for you, then.” I huffed, opened the door, put in my bags, and sat in the driver’s seat, ready to close the door, when Jordan stopped me by putting his hand on it.
“Please.” His voice was on the verge of breaking.
Furious, I glanced at his hands that clenched to my car before moving my attention to his stressed face.
“If you don’t remove your hand, I promise to break your fingers. And knowing me, you know I’m not joking.”
With his jaw clenched and his lips pressed close, he held my stare for a moment longer before he stepped back. The second he was far enough, I closed the damn door and drove from there.
The whole ride to the studio, Jordan’s words continued to bother me.
There are things I need to tell you, things that weigh on my conscience.
What kind of things? The fact that I was curious about what he had to say pissed me the fuck off. But then again, maybe I was being too harsh on him? After all, I was the one who’d cheated. But he was violent, too. I reminded myself of that small fact only so I wouldn’t feel so damn guilty.
He wanted to be friends , which was fucking impossible. First of all, exes could never ever be just friends. Whoever came up with that lie was a lying asshole who was either delusional or a cheater. Second, Camilo would never agree to it. He hated Jordan and had warned me about him more than once .
These annoying thoughts kept stressing me, making my head heavy, until I reached the studio. Thankfully, the second I looked inside the room through the small window at the door to see Camilo dancing, all that background noise faded away. Standing in the hall, takeout bags in my hands, I stepped closer to the door until my nose was nearly smeared against the glass and watched in awe at how he moved his body. I couldn’t hear the music, as the studio was soundproof, but I didn’t need to hear it in order to know the rhythm. Camilo’s body just spoke the music with each move. The other dancers surrounded him while he stood in the center, probably teaching them the choreography. He just did this spin that ended with him dropping to the floor and doing some intense breakdancing before he rose back to his feet and turned to face the other dancers. My heart missed a beat just from seeing this little, and excited, I walked inside the studio.
The second I entered the room, all eyes were on me, and I immediately held the food bags high.
“I brought lunch.”
Mia and Beau, two of the dancers/models, took the bags from me, and finally, my hands were free to greet my perfect man.
“Hey, Llorón,” he whispered as he came to hug me, and my eyes darted to his shirtless bod.
“You’re such a slut.” I pinched his right nipple while ignoring his sweaty skin. “Dancing shirtless.”
Camilo laughed before he cupped the back of my nape and planted a big kiss on my lips.
“Says the skank.” He then glanced at where the rest of our crew was. “What did you get us?” he asked after letting go of me and moving over there to check for himself.
“Just some quinoa bowls and garlic bread.”
“Fuck yeah,” Camilo cheered while taking two bowls out, one for me and one for himself. And as he went over to the other bag, probably for some delicious vegan garlic bread, I took a second to appreciate this moment. We’d had many days like this already. Ordinary days . Days I savored every minute of because living life, my life , the way it should be lived felt so damn good.
After spending my entire lunch break at the studio with Camilo and the others, I went back to Renieri’s headquarters. I’d just stepped out of the elevator on my floor when I received a text. Pulling out my phone and swiping it open, a big smile spread on my face.
Camilo: Did you drive back safely?
Ignoring his unjustified fear about my amazing driving skills and instead of typing a simple yes, I took a quick selfie of myself and hit Send. I watched the three dots pop on my screen, telling me he was typing back before I received another text.
Camilo: Fuck.
Camilo: You’re gorgeous.
“ Hey, Shay-Lee,” Tiff—another designer—greeted me as she came out of the fabric room.
“Hey,” I called back, and once she passed me in the hall, I went back to my phone to see Camilo had texted me more.
A lot more.
Camilo: You’re so pretty.
Camilo: I fucking can’t with how pretty you are.
Camilo: I love you so much.
Camilo: Say it back already.
Camilo: Shay-Lee.
Camilo: Llorón.
Camilo: Tell me you love me already.
Unable to hold back a laugh, I snorted.
Me: You’re sooo desperate.
I got inside my office and kicked the door closed, my eyes fixed on the screen .
Camilo: I am.
Camilo: 100% desperate for your ass.
Me: Pig.
Camilo: Not my fault seeing your face makes me horny.
I slumped my ass on my chair.
Me: Contain yourself.
Camilo: You’re too cruel.
Me: Hardly.
Camilo: I have to go, but I don’t want to.
Me: Just go.
I laughed because he was always so silly while texting. He was also the sentence-breaking type, which I was obsessed with. And right before I was ready to put down my phone, he sent me a selfie that he’d taken in the mirror. Still shirtless and with a sexy baseball cap on, he held his phone in both hands.
Me: Is that a thirst trap asshole?
Camilo: Depends.
Camilo: Did it work?
Shifting in my seat, I adjusted myself.
Me: Maybe.
Me: Didn’t you say something about going back to work?
Camilo: You’re right.
Camilo: Love you.
Camilo: So fucking much.
Camilo: See you tonight.
His texts, as simple as they may be, filled me with butterflies. Lovestruck, I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair. I love him so much .
After being lost in thoughts for a couple more minutes, which included going back to that damn thirst trap, I reminded myself I also had work to do. Opening my eyes, I pulled closer to my desk when I noticed there was an envelope waiting for me on my computer. It had no name on it, so curious, I picked it up and opened it. All that it had inside was a small flash drive and nothing more. After double-checking there wasn’t anything else in it, I got up from my chair and peeked my head out of the office.
“Hey, Cole,” I called our mail guy, who’d just passed in the hall.
“Yeah?”
“Did you leave an envelope on my desk?”
He shook his head. “Nope.” He then scratched his cheek. “Why? Need anything?”
“No,” I said and thanked him. For privacy, I closed my office blinds before going back to my desk. Somehow, this whole thing felt odd. Typically, Cole was the one giving us our mail, and when it came from different departments, there was always some sort of stamp on it. I picked up the envelope again, and nada, it was smooth. Maybe it was from Jordan? Another one of his desperate attempts to reach me? Well, there was only one way to find out. With a shrug, I sat back in my chair and opened my laptop. Picking up the black flash drive, I examined it shortly, then plugged it in.