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She shakes her head. “I mean, the girl blushes like crazy any time someone even mentions your name. The other day when I found her crying, I mentioned you probably two times and by the end of it, she resembled a tomato. That girl likes you, hermano pequeño. And now she’s crying and you’re acting more of a jerk. Did something happen? Did you do something to her?”
“Nothing happened,” I snap. “Stop calling me your little brother and leave.”
“What, are you saying that you haven’t noticed? How she can’t look you in the eye. How every time you’re around, she’s fidgeting and squirming. She’s dropping things and stuttering over her words. How she’s trying to make it seem like she isn’t looking at you but she totally is. In fact, she doesn’t just like you. She has a major, major crush on you. Amajorcrush. I’m even willing to go so far as to say that she’s in love with you and —”
“She isn’t,” I cut her off.
“That’s —”
I cut her off again. “She doesn’t have the time for it.”
“I’m sorry?”
“For this bullshit. She’s going places, yeah? She doesn’t want love, or more specifically, an unavailable single dad to hold her back.” Cami’s eyes are wide and I keep going, every word tasting bitter. “So you can rest assured that whatever’s going on with her has nothing to do with me.”
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
That’s the problem, isn’t it? That’s why I’ve been so angry these past two weeks.
Because she’s holding up her end of the bargain while I’m the one who’s slipping. That that fucking night in the cabin changed things for me somehow while they remained the same for her.
I know she’s got a crush on me.
Or did.
It was plain to see. It was fucking amazing to see.
So amazing that I didn’t let myself enjoy it at all. I kept myself away from it, from her. Because I wanted her too and if she wanted me back, then there was nothing holding me back.
Until that night.
The night she assured me that she knew how to keep things professional. That she has dreams of her own and no one and nothing was going to mess with them.
As someone with the same passion, I respect that.
I just don’t like it.
I just don’t know how to cope with it.
When she makes me feel the way she does.
And it pisses me off that I’m the one who’s affected.Me. When I’m never ever affected by anything. When I’ve learned my lesson as to what happens when you’re affected.
“Now for the last fucking time, get out of my house.”
Yet she doesn’t listen. “She said that?”
I don’t dignify that with a response.
She doesn’t seem to need any though, to keep going. “I don’t believe you.”
“Then that’s your problem.”
“That’s not Meadow.” She shakes her head. “It can’t be.”
