Continuing with the ruse, I add, “I barely even noticed you.”
“Well, it's a good thing I didn't embarrass myself more, then.”
“Mhmm. Good thing. I could also have a boyfriend.”
“Do you?” he's quick to ask.
“Um, no. I probably wouldn't have taken you home that first night or come over the second night if that were the case.” I finish up the last stitch and pull off my gloves. “Done. You'll have a scar here where the hair won't grow, but it should fill in around the surrounding areas. Your longer hair will cover it anyway.”
He nods, shifting away so I can stand. “Thanks for doing that.”
“Sure.” I collect all the garbage and walk into his kitchen to throw it into the trash.
Cam practically bounds to his feet when I start gathering the rest of my stuff and pick up my bag.
“You're leaving?”
I shift my bag further up on my shoulder and answer as I head for the door, bending for my shoes. “Yeah. I've got to grab some dinner on my way home. Maybe fit in an episode ofElementarybefore bed.”
Once my shoes are on, I stand up straight and spin around to face him again. His brows are furrowed, and he's scratching at his neck in an adorable way.
“I could order some food, and you could eat it here.” One of his shoulders lifts in a half-shrug. “You know, as a thank you.”
The lonely part of me screams at me to accept his invitation. The part that's attracted to him begs me to jump at his offer. It tells me to go sit on his couch, eat takeout with him and watch TV.Maybehe'd actually open up to me and decide to tell me something about himself.
But the logical part of me says to leave now. It's late. He's not willing to talk to me about himself even though he's had plenty of chances to. Instead, he's shut them all down, which means he doesn't see me as a friend. And he's not interested in me romantically, so where does that leave us? It's best that I just go now and not fool myself into thinking there will ever be anything more.
“That's not necessary, but thanks for the offer,” I force myself to say, keeping my tone light. “I'm tired and should get home.” I'm not a hundred percent sure, but it almost looks like his shoulders droop just the slightest bit. “Plus, that seems pretty date-like for someone who said he's not right for me,” I add, unable to resist the tease.
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, he steps around the couch and saunters a little closer. Then, with a shrug of his shoulders he says, “Well, I heard recently that you can spend time with someone without being in a relationship with them.”
I smile at him, trying to keep the wistfulness out of my voice as I reach for the door. “True. But I'm still heading out. Have a good night, Cam.”
Just as I'm pulling the door closed behind me, he sticks his hand through and stops it from shutting. “Just . . . text me when you get home, okay? So I know you made it there safely.”
I've been coming and going from my apartment and the hospital at all hours of the night for the past couple of months without any worries, so I know I'll be fine. But instead of telling him that, I give him a warm smile and nod.
“Okay.” And then I turn around and leave before I end up changing my mind.
CHAPTER 13
CAMPBELL
I lean my head against the headrest in the back seat of the Uber, watching idly as the buildings pass by in a blur.
I've done almost nothing since the accident except the odd outing to get more bandages and food, and I haven't seen anyone except for Jaz, and that last night with her ended disappointingly early.
It's not that I was going to try anything with her. I meant what I said about being no good for her. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't drawn to her. She has this sweet way about her that has me feeling lighter in her presence. Everything seems to suck just a little less whenever she's around, and the days that pass by meaningless and unimportant don't seem quite as bad when she's in them. It has me craving her company again, just for those few luxurious minutes when I don't feel like I'm drowning.
That's probably why she was the first person to come to mind when I felt like I was going to pass out the other night after drinking.
But now, with the stitches gone and everything else healing, I don't exactly have an excuse to see her again.
The Uber comes to a stop outside of Miguel's, and I mumble a “thanks” to the driver before getting out. We've texted only once since I was in the hospital, besides the picture he sent of what my car looked like, so it was time I came in and got this shit sorted.
Jorge is bent over the engine of a Supra, grunting out a curse while trying to tug at something, so I leave him be and head inside to find Miguel.
Looking up, I see mysilver beastin the lift, already having been stripped down and halfway put back together. You can't tell at all that one side of it had been smashed in just two weeks ago. It hits me again now just how lucky I was to escape with the minimal injuries I had. I still have some stiffness in my body, but it feels like a small price to pay for having my life spared.
