Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
CAMERON
T his is bullshit. Kamila has barely spoken to me during our class. In her defense, I haven’t said much either. I’ve also been very curt, can she blame me, though?
Yesterday’s conversation did not go the way I expected it to. I don’t know exactly what I was expecting, but it wasn’t her needing a break. The worst part is that I understand why she needs space. I know how she’s feeling. I know that her guilt runs deep as well as her fears. What I don’t think she knows is how to handle it properly.
“You’re dismissed. I will see you on Tuesday before Thanksgiving break.”
Class is over already?
Kamila and I split up the questions for our class work. It’s been hard not to look at her. She’s wearing one of those tight skirts that makes me want to drag her into a room and ruin that red lipstick with my mouth and cock.
I’ll never understand how this woman can wear a skirt at the start of winter in upstate New York, and I usually don’t mind it. Except that today, I do. She isn’t mine anymore. Meaning she can see and or sleep with whomever she wants. The thought makes me want to rip my own hair out. I decided to respect her decision because the second I thought she was ending things for good, it felt as though a bucket of ice water was poured over me.
Fuck, when did I start feeling this way about her? This situation is so much more complicated than solving it with a quick conversation. The core problem involves other people, other loved ones and there is an extreme lack of trust between us, that no matter what I say, I doubt she’d believe me. This isn’t the time to try and solve this. I can’t go down this rabbit hole until she makes up her mind about what our next steps are. There is no solving anything without her. In fact, she needs to be the one who decides when to have the conversation we’ve been avoiding.
I’m almost to my dorm when my phone starts to ring. Ethan’s name flashes on the screen. Weird time of day to call me, but I’ll bite.
“Hey.”
“Damn, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” His cheery voice sounds through the speaker.
“Sorry. What’s up?”
“Can’t a cousin just call to check in on another cousin?”
Not Ethan. “What do you need?”
“Firstly, I need you to stop being a dick, and secondly, I really am calling to check up on you. Good thing I did, too; sounds like something’s wrong.”
Silence is the only response my brother receives.
“Talk to me.”
I remain silent for a few more seconds, holding the phone tightly, trying to find the courage to have this damned conversation.
A few seconds later, I tell him everything. Every. Fucking. Detail. And shit, does it feel good to get that off my chest. If her friends can know, so can Ethan.
After I finish the recap of the last couple of months, there’s no sound coming from the other end. I pull my phone away, making sure that I wasn’t talking to myself for the past fifteen minutes.
“Ethan?”
“I fucking knew it. I knew there was something going on with you two when you came to visit,” he spits out. “I’ll admit, it was a lot more than I was expecting.”
“Same here.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he shouts.
I pause, making sure I heard him right. “What?”
“Why did you have to have sex with her, dude?”
Still confused, I hesitate. “Um, because she’s hot, and I’m insanely attracted to her?”
He curses under his breath. “No. Kamila and you, it wasn’t supposed to—” He halts mid-sentence.
Stopping dead in my tracks, I hold onto the phone even tighter. “It wasn’t supposed to what, Ethan?”
He sighs. “She was your best friend, Cameron?—”
“Emphasis on the was .”
“Shut up and listen. She was your closest friend, your confidant. You haven’t found anyone like her since then, and you went and fucked it up when you could’ve fixed it after two years. If you liked her, you could’ve just asked her out on a date.”
“That’s the thing, Ethan, I didn’t like her. I’m still not sure if I fucking do. She drives me insane half of the time. Sure, she’s a good lay?—”
“Oh, save me the bullshit Cam?—”
“Smith is also a really good friend?—”
“Not like she was. You can’t compare him to her?—”
“Enough.” This conversation is useless. “Ethan, she said she needed space. I’ll figure this out later, but for now, I’m going to respect it.”
“And that, right there, is how I know that you still care about her. No matter how hard you tried not to, no matter how much you thought you hated her, you never did. I’m not even sure why you thought you did?—”
“That’s none of your business. I have my reasons,” I huff out.
He lets out a deep breath. “Fine, you’re right. She needs space, just don’t give up on her.”
I look up at the roof of my dorm building. “Ethan, we’ll never fully trust each other. She knows it, and so do I.”
“Then why are you waiting for her to end the break?”
“Because…” I stutter. “Because?—”
“I’ll see you next week, Cam. Good luck.” He hangs up.
I sit on my bed, going over the conversation we just had. Why am I still waiting for her?
That little devil pops out again, except this time it’s like he’s hounding me with questions I don’t know the answers to. Not yet, anyways. This isn’t like me at all. Kamila was always the one panicking and overthinking, not me. Not unless someone else drove me to the brink of insanity, which is what’s happening now, and I’m not fond of it.
God, if I ever tell anyone about the little metaphorical devil on my shoulder, they’ll institutionalize me. I never thought I’d be so relieved to celebrate Thanksgiving and leave Driscoll for a couple of days. Since I’m not leaving today, though, and don’t want to spend the night alone with this thing on my shoulder, I open the group chat.
Me: I need a drink or five.
Will: Your place at eight?
Zoey: I’ll bring snacks!
Me: And extra booze. See you then.