CHAPTER SIX
ARIELLE
Cam showed up at my house Friday morning with twenty pink roses, an iced caramel coffee, and the exact breakfast sandwich I ordered when I was pretending calories did not exist.
They usually knew how to soothe me too.
My mother let him in before I could decide whether I wanted to see him. I heard her laugh downstairs, then his voice, then her calling up that I had company like I was twelve and some boy had come to ask permission to sit on the porch.
I pulled my bonnet off, checked my reflection, and immediately hated myself for checking.
I should’ve been allowed to have pillow lines.
Still, I smoothed my hair before opening the door.
Cam stood on the other side holding the flowers in one hand and a white bakery box in the other. He wore gray sweats, a black hoodie, and the expression he used when he knew charm had already gotten one foot inside.
“Happy birthday, beautiful.”
I leaned against the doorway. “You’re early.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t say thank you.”
“You were about to.”
“I wasn’t.”
He lifted the coffee. “You want me to leave with this?”
I took it. “Thank you.”
“See?”
I stepped aside because my mother was somewhere downstairs listening hard enough to hear paint dry.
Cam sat the roses on my dresser, looked around at the outfits spread across my room, and smiled. “So, the tornado came before or after you picked a dress?”
“I have a system.”
“You have clothes on your printer.”
“The printer isn’t part of today.”
He sat on the edge of my bed like the night before hadn’t happened. For a few seconds, I wanted to let it be that easy. Sit beside him. Open the box. Laugh at whatever he bought. Take pictures of the flowers before they started dying.
Instead, I stayed by the dresser. “Where were you Monday?”
His smile faded, not completely. “Good morning to you too.”
“I asked last night.”
“And I answered. Domo’s.”
“Was Sade there?”
Cam rubbed one hand over his beard. “Ari.”
“That’s yes or no.”
“She came through with two other people because we were going over the brand schedule.”
“At one in the morning?”
His eyes sharpened. “Who said one?”
I hadn’t.
Cam recovered first. “We were working late. You know how events go.”
“I know how you say work when you don’t want questions.”
“And I know how you get when you see a pretty girl near me.”
My fingers tightened around the coffee cup.
Not an answer. A mirror turned back on me.
“You think this is because she’s pretty?”
“I think you let stuff get in your head. Then, you show up already mad and act like I did something because you feel something.”
“I didn’t act like anything. She told me to ask you.”
“Sade likes attention.”
“So do you.”
He looked at me for a long second. “Who put that in your head?”
I almost said Kye. I didn’t.
“It’s not hard to notice.”
Cam leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’m not cheating on you.”
Instead, I noticed how carefully he said it. No extra details. Nothing I could test.
“I need more than you telling me I’m insecure every time something looks wrong.”
“I didn’t call you insecure.”
“You didn’t have to.”
His face softened. “Come here.”
I stayed where I was.
“Arielle.”
He only used my full name when he wanted me to feel how long he had known me.
I crossed the room and stood between his knees. Cam rested his hands on my hips. His thumbs moved over the T-shirt I had slept in.
“I’m sorry I made you feel stupid last night,” he said.
Not for what he did. For how I felt.
I heard the difference and still let him pull me closer.
“Your event wasn’t the place to talk,” I said.
“You’re right.”
That surprised me enough to look down at him.
He smiled a little. “I can admit when I’m wrong.”
“Once a year. Must be my gift.”
“There she go.” He kissed the center of my stomach through my shirt. “I wanted today to start good.”
“Then, tell me the fucking truth.”
“I am.”
He looked up at me without flinching.
Cam had beautiful eyes. Warm brown with long lashes that made him look more honest than he had earned.
I sat the coffee on my dresser before it spilled between us.
Cam’s hands tightened at my hips when I leaned down and kissed him. I meant for it to be quick. A birthday kiss. Something soft enough to prove we were okay without requiring me to say it.
He kissed me back like he knew exactly what I was trying not to ask for. His mouth moved from mine to my jaw, then lower, his beard brushing the side of my neck. My fingers slid into the back of his hoodie.
“Your mother downstairs,” he murmured.
“I’m aware.”
“She already don’t like me in your room with the door closed.”
I reached behind me and turned the lock.
Cam’s smile touched my skin. “Birthday behavior?”
“You talk too much.”
He stood, and I had to step back until the dresser pressed against me. The teasing left his face when he looked at me. Not the polished version from the night before. Bonnet tossed on the bed. Oversized T-shirt. Bare legs. No lashes. No careful angle.
“You still mad?” he asked.
“A little.”
“You want me to stop?”
I should have wanted another answer first.
Instead, I pulled him back to me. “No.”
The kiss deepened. Cam pushed my shirt up slowly, giving me time to change my mind, and lowered his mouth to my chest. I covered a sound with the back of my hand when his tongue found the place he already knew would make my knees soften.
“Quiet,” he whispered, smiling against me.
“Then, stop doing that.”
He did it again.
I bit his shoulder through the hoodie, and his laugh came out low.
He lifted me onto the edge of the dresser, spreading my thighs with both hands.
The familiarity of him was its own kind of weakness.
He knew when I needed teasing and when I needed to be held still.
He knew the exact pressure that made my thoughts scatter.
Cam reached into his wallet and held up a condom. “You good?”
I nodded, then caught his face between my hands. “I want you.”
He kissed me once before rolling it on.
When he entered me, slow and careful, my head tipped back against the mirror. His forehead rested against mine while he moved. We had to stay quiet, which made every breath feel louder. I held his shoulders and let my body answer for me.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
I did.
For those few minutes, there was no rooftop, no Sade, no deleted story. Just Cam watching my face like my pleasure was the only thing he needed to understand.
My legs tightened around him. He covered my mouth with a kiss when the first sound slipped out, and I came, holding him so hard, my nails pressed through his sweatshirt. He followed with his face buried against my neck, breathing my name.
We stayed still until the house sounded quiet again.
Then, Cam kissed the corner of my mouth and said, “Happy birthday.”
I laughed against his chest. “That was not my gift.”
“You sure?”
“Very.”
He tied the condom, wrapped it in tissue, and tucked it into the small trash bag inside my bathroom instead of leaving it where my mother could conduct an investigation.
By the time he came back, I had pulled my shirt down and fixed my face.
Sex had not answered it. It had only made the room warm enough for me to stop asking for a little while.
He handed me the bakery box. Inside was a small pink cake with PRETTY SINCE ‘06 written across the top in white frosting.
I laughed before I could hold it back. “This is corny.”
“You love corny.”
“I tolerate it from you.”
“Same thing.”
He stood and pulled a narrow jewelry box from his hoodie pocket. The bracelet inside was thin gold with four tiny diamonds.
“Cam.”
“Don’t cry.”
“I’m not.”
My eyes burned immediately, which made him grin.
“You cry over everything.”
“And you bring me stuff knowing that.”
He fastened it around my wrist. “Twenty looks good on you.”
“It’s been twenty for seven hours.”
“Still.”
For a few minutes, we were us again. He fed me frosting off his finger. I told him the cake writing looked crooked. He reminded me of my eighteenth birthday when I cried because the restaurant seated us near the kitchen, then laughed until I hit his shoulder.
Those moments were why leaving never felt as simple as people made it sound.
Cam didn’t only know how to hurt me.
He knew what made me laugh with food in my mouth. He knew I hated pulp, loved naps, and needed silence for the first five minutes after waking up. He could look at my face across a room and tell whether I was overwhelmed or just hungry.
Love lived in the details.
Unfortunately, so did lies.
By eleven, I was dressed for brunch in a chocolate-brown sweater dress and boots, with my birthday install falling in loose layers down my back. Kye had done exactly what I asked, then complained the entire appointment that my head was too big for perfection.
The four of us met at a restaurant in Cherry Hill. Nae arrived twenty-three minutes late with one earring on and apologized before she sat down.
“Amir poured milk inside my purse,” she said.
Kye stared at the damp corner of the bag. “He got something against Michael Kors?”
“He got something against peace.”
Jori slid a mimosa toward her. “Drink this before you start crying.”
“I’m not crying.”
“You look close.”
“So do you,” Nae said.
Jori’s mouth tightened.
I looked between them. “Can nobody fight at my birthday brunch until after the food comes?”
Kye lifted her glass. “To Ari finally turning twenty so she can stop saying she’s basically grown.”
“I have a job and tuition.”
“You live with your mama.”
“So do you.”
“Different. My mama lives with me.”
“In her house?” Jori asked.
Kye pointed at her. “This why nobody likes nurses.”
The laughter came easy. For a little while, we were twelve again at the cafeteria table, stealing fries and talking over one another.
Nae gave me a small perfume set she said Amir picked because he kept grabbing the box.
Jori gave me a planner with dates already marked for exams, our trip, and every birthday in the group.
Kye handed me a gift bag containing a silk pillowcase, emergency edge control, and a framed picture of us from eighth-grade promotion.
All four of us wore cheap matching sandals and smiles too big for our faces.
I held the picture longer than I meant to.
“Why you getting emotional?” Kye asked.
“I’m not.”
Nae laughed. “Your eyes shiny.”
“Because the restaurant lights are aggressive.”
“Let her cry,” Jori said. “It’s the most consistent thing about her.”
I kicked her under the table.
The screen lit beside my plate.
AIRBNB: Your payment method could not be processed.
I read it twice.
“Nae.”
Her smile disappeared before I showed her the screen.
“What happened?” I asked.
She picked up her phone too quickly. “My bank did something weird this morning. I already called.”
“You said it was paid yesterday.”
“It was pending. Then, they flagged it.”
“Why?” Jori asked.
Nae looked at her. “Because banks flag stuff, Jordyn.”
“You don’t have to snap.”
“You don’t have to question me like I stole it.”
Nobody spoke.
Kye reached for a piece of bacon. “Well. The food came so, technically, y’all can fight now.”
I shot her a look.
She put it down.
Nae rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry. I’ve been dealing with daycare and Malik. I’ll fix it by this afternoon.”
“How long is the reservation held?” Jori asked me.
“Until six.”
“I said I got it,” Nae repeated.
Her tone made me want to ask more. Her face made me stop.
“Okay,” I said. “Just let me know when it goes through.”
Relief flashed across her features so quickly, I wondered whether I imagined it.
Another notification slid across the screen.
PERIOD EXPECTED: 2 DAYS AGO
I cleared the notification before anybody could see it.
Two days wasn’t late-late. Stress changed things. Work changed things. Birthdays, bad sleep, hormones. I had been two or three days off before.
Nothing to worry about.
I put the phone face down.
Across the table, Kye was staring at Nae. Jori was staring at Kye’s wrist. Nae was staring into her drink.
All of us had something sitting just beneath our faces.
The server appeared with sparklers burning above a slice of cake, and the whole restaurant started singing. I smiled because everybody was looking.
For the pictures, it was perfect.