Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
CAMERON
I ’ll keep you my dirty little secret.
My alarm blasts as I reach over to shut it off. I feel something warm, or in this case, someone warm on my chest. It’s Kamila stirring in her sleep. Fuck.
Checking my phone, it reads that it’s only eight in the morning.
“Shit.” Kami quickly takes her head and hands off my chest. “Sorry about that. I’m not used to sleeping with people.”
I quirk an eyebrow at her. We both know she’s far from innocent, just like me.
She rolls her eyes. “I meant actually sleeping with someone, you know, without having sex?”
How the hell has no guy ever asked or wanted to sleep over? Knowing Kamila, she probably rejected anyone who did. It was one of her rules if I recall correctly. Before I can ask a follow up question, she speaks.
“What time is it?”
“It’s only eight.”
Kamila’s rubbing her forehead when I cast my eyes her way again .
“Are you okay? I didn’t get you sick, did I?”
“No, I’m fine. I have a very strong immune system. How are you feeling?” she asks with her eyes now closed.
Taking a moment to focus on my body, I find that my nose has cleared up for the most part, and it barely hurts to swallow. My head is also no longer throbbing.
“Fuck.” I grin. “I feel so much better. You really know your shit.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” She opens her eyes that look lighter than they ever have before and it does something to my chest, my stomach, my whole fucking body.
No. That all too unfamiliar feeling isn’t something I can have right now. Not while we’re still rebuilding our friendship and trust.
“Coffee.” She pouts. “I. Need. Coffee.” As if she just now realizes what she asked me for and is fully taking in her surroundings, she begins to freak out. “I gotta go.” She rushes to her bag.
I jump out of the bed and am caught up with her in four long strides. “At least let me make you a cup of coffee, Kami.” She avoids all eye contact with me and continues to rush.
Don’t leave , I try to say mind to mind.
“I can get some back at Astor Hall, really, I’m fine. Em’s probably worried and I have a morning class.”
Bullshit. She’s having a meltdown. This girl never babbles. She hates the fact that she stayed over and doesn’t want to acknowledge it.
Fuck. That.
“Nope, nope, nope, nope.” I stop her from putting on her shoes and throw her over my shoulder for the third time since our first kiss. Kami starts thrashing and protesting to let her go, which, for some reason, turns me on, and I have no idea what that says about me. Finally I drop her to the bed and lean down until we’re at eye level.
“You’re not going to run out of here like we had a one night stand, because we barely fucking touched each other all night. You took care of me and that was it. You helped your friend and now that same friend is going to make you a damn cup of coffee before he goes to shower and gets ready, understood?”
Her eyes narrow into slits. “I have a morning class,” she grits out.
My jaw flexes. “At what time?”
“Eleven thirty,” she mumbles.
Smirking, I know I’ve won this round. Kamila wears almost every emotion on her sleeve.
“Stay. I’m going to make us some coffee.”
“You’re bossy.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
“And you like it.” I give her a smile. She shakes her head, knowing there’s no point in her objecting because what I said is a fact.
“Em is probably worried,” she says more to herself than me while I prep the coffee pot.
“Text her and relax. Let me do this one thing for you, even if it's something as simple as caffeine.” I catch a glimpse of her looking over at me, observing my every move. Whatever she sees makes her comfortable enough to stay.
After a couple of minutes of her texting and me getting my clothes ready for the day, I grab a mug and make her coffee the way she’s always liked it.
“Thank you.” Her eyes flicker with amazement after her first sip, and my jaw clenches. I didn’t really think this part through.
“You just happen to have light brown sugar, whole milk, and cinnamon lying around?” She tilts her head to the side in the most endearing and adorable way possible.
Endearing? Adorable? What the fuck is wrong with me today?
Truth or lie? A white lie? A half-truth? “I, um…” I stutter, trying to come up with any sort of excuse to get me out of having to reveal that what’s in my thermos is the same as what’s in her mug .
“It was Zoey. She used cinnamon for some cupcakes recently and left it here after making them in the kitchen downstairs.”
The truth? Kamila took me to a local coffee shop the day of her and Ana’s sixteenth birthday. She decided to order something new: a medium cup of coffee with a splash of whole milk, a touch of cinnamon, and some light brown sugar. Her sister made fun of her for not ordering the black stuff like we did. Yet that day in the coffee house, when I saw Kamila take that first sip of coffee, her face lighting up over something as simple as a three-dollar drink, it’s when I realized that I loved her. It didn’t matter what I felt for her sister, it wasn’t the same as what I felt for Kamila. She was my first love. Platonic or not, it was the first time that I felt overwhelming love for anyone other than a family member. After that day, my morning coffee order has been the same. Every morning for the two years we were apart, I poured the bitter liquid, splashed the cold milk, ripped open the packets of sugar, and sprinkled the spice on top before mixing together the same ingredients that were the essence of my best friend. Every sip was a pain I had come to crave, a reminder of those feelings towards the only person I’ve ever loved in the Morales family.
It’s so much more than a breakfast drink to me, but telling her that now might scare her out of my life permanently.
She shrugs, pretending to buy the shitty lie I came up with. “Thanks. It’s honestly one of the best cups I’ve ever had.”
My shoulders slump in relief. “I should go shower. You take your time doing whatever it is you need to do. I’ll be back soon.”
“Don’t worry about me, I’m a big girl.”
Nodding, I leave, not calming down until I get behind the bathroom door and under the shower head. I haven’t felt this way about somebody in a long time. With anybody else but her. It really clicked last night after she told me about that week in high school. I should’ve known it was Kamila bringing me the soup, but Ana told me it was her and proudly took all the fucking credit. Kami took care of me back then and is taking care of me now. She’s still a good person with a good heart, and something in me never truly gave up on us because every morning, I forced myself to remember her.
Ethan was right. Fuck, I hate admitting that.
Stepping out of the shower, I pause the song on my phone and put it to my ear while it rings.
“You better have a good reason for waking me up before eleven on my day off,” Ethan grumbles.
“You were right,” I say quickly.
The sounds of sheets ruffling come through the small speaker. “Now you have my attention.” There’s a faint voice in the background. “Go back to sleep, it’s just Cam.”
“And who might that be? Chris?”
“We were talking about you, remember?”
Good for Ethan. “Tell him I said hi.”
“Cameron,” he warns me.
“Alright, alright. You were right about…everything.” I lean on the sink counter.
“Of course I was.” He pauses. “We are talking about Kamila, right?”
“Yeah, dude.” Running a hand through my hair and letting out a deep breath, I allow myself to voice everything I’ve been feeling. “I care about her. A lot. Like I did back then, but it’s more intense. It’s different.” I scoff. “Obviously, it’s different. We’ve had sex multiple times, and it’s amazing. It gets better every single damn time. It’s honestly the best sex of my life,” I admit for the first time aloud. “And something changed last night. I was sick, she came over, took care of me, and was overall so unselfish. It made me realize how close-minded I’d been to the idea of really putting the past behind us and there possibly being something more. But we just made a deal to get to know each other all over again as friends. And even worse, it was my idea. That was Sunday. Three days ago. Everything is going so well, and I don’t want to fuck it up by telling her any of this.”
“So you have feelings for her?” he asks calmly .
I close my eyes. “Maybe? I think so…I don’t know. Obviously, there’s something there, in spite of that, we’re in a weird ass situation.”
“Do you think she has feelings for you? Kamila has always been caring with everyone. I remember when she brought you that soup when you had the flu?—”
Throwing my razor in the sink, I yell, “How did everyone know about that except for me?!”
Ethan laughs. “You were too busy wrapped up in Ana with your on-and-off fights to see just how much your best friend cared about you, Cam. It’s okay, you were only seventeen.” His voice drops three octaves. “Listen, my advice is firstly to thank her for last night, if you haven’t already.”
“I did.”
“Secondly, don’t bring anything up until you’ve sorted out whatever it is that’s going through your head. No maybes . No I don’t know . None of that. Kamila doesn’t stand for that shit, and she deserves more. So, get your head in the game and try to figure out what you’re feeling.”
Picking my razor back up, I agree.
“Finally, if you do come to the conclusion that you have feelings for her and really, truly want to be with her the right way with none of those idiotic rules, you have to keep in mind that she might not want the same thing.”
Acid burns in my throat at the idea of losing her permanently.
“I can feel your nerves through the fucking phone. Don’t let that stop you, brother. Be brave. If you don’t do it, I can guarantee you’re going to regret it for a long, long time.”
Once we hang up, Ethan’s words run through my head until I reach my room that’s missing a five-foot-three Latina woman. My heart squeezes at her absence. A piece of folded paper on the bed catches my eye.
Thanks for the coffee.
Consider us even.
-K
P.S. I took the cinnamon from your room since I ran out of mine. I’ll also be asking Zoey for that cupcake recipe soon ;)