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I hold my breath and wait. This is the moment when everything will either continue or end forever, when Cameron will tell me to fuck off, block my number, and never speak to me again. I deserve it. I know I deserve it for what I’ve done. But please, God, please don’t let him say it, please don’t let him cut me off. I can’t imagine my life without him in it, without the possibility of him.

Cameron sighs on the other end of the line, and I can hear him shifting, maybe sitting up or moving to a different position. When he speaks again, his voice sounds closer, more present.

“I don’t know,” he says, and those three words hang, suspended in the space where yes or no should be.

I don’t know.

Not yes, which would be a miracle, a gift I don’t deserve.

Not no, which would destroy me completely, would send me spiraling…

I don’t know.

My mind spins through every possible way to fix this. I need to see him, need to be in the same room with him because I am better in person. I am more convincing when he can see my face and feel my presence and remember why we connected in the first place.

“I would feel much better if I could apologize to you in person,” I say, and I can hear the slight tremor in my own voice.

Silence again, longer this time. He must be thinking, trying to decide whether seeing me is a good idea or a terrible mistake.

“Okay,” he says finally.

What?

I must be hearing him wrong because there’s no way he’s just agreed to see me, no way he’s giving me this chance after everything I’ve done. For a moment I just sit there in stunned silence, unable to absorb what has just happened.

“Where are you?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady even though my hands are shaking, adrenaline flooding through my system.

“Home,” he says simply.

“Can I meet you there? I have a math test tomorrow, so I can’t stay long, but I just…I need to see you. Please.”

I really do have a math test to study for. I’m not lying about that, but the truth is I’m using it as a buffer. He’s finally willing to see me again, and I can’t fuck this up by coming on too strong. I know this in theory, but trying to pace myself with Cameron is like trying to hold back the tide. Eventually, the water will rise and consume the shore.

Cameron hasn’t said anything for a minute.

“Please?” I ask again.

“Sure,” he says.

It’s a sweet relief to know that I’ll finally see the inside of his apartment.

“Great, I’ll be there soon.”

“Wait,” he says, and I freeze mid-step, my entire body tensing.

“What?”

“Don’t you need the address?”

I almost laugh. He has no idea. Innocent Cameron has no idea. It’s good that he doesn’t know. His naivety is part of what makes him so fucking irresistible.

“Oh yeah. Text it to me.”

“Okay.”

We hang up, and I stand there for a moment just breathing, letting the reality of what has just happened wash over me. And then I move quickly, pulling clothes from my closet.

I grab my cologne from the dresser and spritz it on like I’m getting ready for a first date. I want to make an impression. I want him to remember how I smell, how I look, how I make him feel when we’re in the same room together. If this is the last time we speak, if this is the end, I want him to remember me.