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"It's Tuesday," he clips. "You know I don't start for another hour."
My eyes drop to the floor, and I wait for my heart to stop pounding so hard. For the hurt to stop aching so much. I look up and fake a smile. "I'm sorry." My voice breaks, and I look away before he knows exactly how he made me feel. Because he doesn't need to worry about me, not on top of everything else.
I turn around and slowly start dressing.
His arms curl around my waist, before he wipes his eyes on my shoulder. I feel the warmth of his tears against my skin. "I'm an asshole."
I push down my emotions and settle my hand on the back of his neck. "It's okay, you're stressed."
Sighing, he pulls back and turns me to him. "Four more days, Luce. Four more days and I'll make it up to you." He picks me up by my waist and sits me on the counter, spreading my legs with his hands so he can stand between them. "Just please be patient with me. You deserve so much more than the way I've been treating you lately. You do everything for me, and I don't even appreciate it."
"It's okay—"
"No, it's not Lucy. I feel like you come here and we have sex and that's it. We—"
He must see my gaze drop, because he cuts himself off.
"What?" he whispers. "Is that how you feel? Do you think I use you for sex or something?" His voice cracks. Maybe because he knows he's right.
I keep my eyes down, not wanting him to see my reaction. "I don't think you use me," I tell him. "And it goes both ways, Cam. I mean, I don't have to sleep with you... but I do."
"Why do you?" He lifts my chin so he can see my face. His eyes dart between mine as he takes me in. All of me. "Why?" he repeats.
I hesitate to answer, because I don't want to lie. But I'm scared of how the truth will make him feel.
His brows furrow and his mouth turns down to a frown. "Lucy, why?"
I push down my nerves, and the knot in my throat, and I tell him the truth, even though it kills me. "Because you spend all your time with a girl that I don't trust, and I want you to remember what's waiting for you. I want you to think of me, even when you're with her."
His eyes narrow, and I think that he's about to lose it. About to yell at me like he's never done before. But then his shoulders sag and his features flatten. "Baby," he sighs. He wraps his arms around me—so tight, for so long, that slowly, he pieces us back together again. "I'm so sorry that you feel that insecure about us. I'm sorry that I haven't noticed. I should have." He pulls back slightly. "I don't ever want you to feel like my world doesn't begin and end with you. And I need to cut this shit because one day you're going to wake up and realize that there's someone better out there that's going to treat you right, Luce. And when you do..." His eyes narrow to a glare and a snarl pulls on his lips. His nose scrunches, right before he grunts, "I'll find them, and I'll kill them."
My head throws back in laughter.
He raises an eyebrow. "You think it's funny?"
I nod through my snorts.
"I don't think it's funny," he says, but he's smiling. "Seriously, Luce. I know the woods behind your house pretty well. I'm sure I could hide a dead body in there. I'll make it so it looks like little Logan did it. If any of your brothers were going to kill someone, it's him."
"Stop it," I laugh. "He would not."
"Lucy," he deadpans. "This one time when I was at your house, even before you attacked me with your virgin kisses—" He stops while I let out a cackle. "I poured him a bowl of cereal. He got out of his chair, picked out a knife from the drawer, sat back down and started stabbing the bowl. I asked what the fuck he was doing—but in nicer terms, obviously, because I was still trying to get in your pants... you know what he said?"
I shake my head, my smile in full force.
"He looked up at me and said..." He leans forward so his lips are to my ear and whispers, "Practicing to be a serial killer. Join forces, Cameron."
I push him away, my body shaking with laughter. "He did not."
His eyes are wide as he shakes his head. "Swear it, Luce. This shit's too good to make up."
-CAMERON-
"Oh my God," Roxy whines, flopping into the seat next to me. "I just handed in Masterson's project. Talk about cutting it fine. Not like we've had a few weeks to work on it," she scoffs.
"The roof design?"
"No," she laughs, "the entire design."
I tense. "What?"
"Yeah," she says, now looking worried. "The entire design's due tomorrow."
Whatever look just took over my face has her eyes widening. "Cameron?"
"The entire design is due tomorrow? When the fuck did this happen?"
"Um. Just over a month ago," she says, like I'm a dumbass for not knowing.
"Fuck."
"You haven't finished?"
"Roxy, I haven't even fucking started. I didn't even know it was due. Was I in class?"
She eyes the ceiling, like she's deep in thought. "Dude..." she says, finally looking back at me. "I think it was that time when your friend got attacked and you missed a couple classes."
"Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" I'm on my feet now, my heart thumping so loud in my ears I can barely see straight. "How much will it affect my grade if I don't hand it in?" I'm panicking, trying to keep down the bile that's risen in my throat.
