I heard Cam’s door open and I knew it couldn’t be Ollie. My heart stuttered and I tried to get the door open and get the groceries in before he saw me, except that wasn’t possible. Dismissing the idiotic idea of leaving the groceries in the hall, I bent over, grabbing as many bags as possible.
“Avery.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I froze, three bags of groceries dangling precariously from my aching fingers. My throat closed up as I felt him come closer. It was as if my body was aware of him on some kind of subconscious level.
“Let me help you.”
His deep voice wove its way through my chest, working a shiver from me. I opened my eyes, but kept my gaze glued to what I could see of my apartment. “I got it.”
“Doesn’t look that way,” he replied. “Your fingers are turning purple.”
They were. “It’s fine.” I started into my apartment, but Cam moved quickly. He slid around me and all I saw was his midsection. Thank God he was wearing a sweater. His hand came into view and he extracted the bags from my fingers, brushing over mine in the process. I jerked back, causing one of the bags to hit the floor. “Shit.”
I stooped down, grabbing my hair conditioner before it rolled down the steps. Cam knelt, picking up the rest of my spilled items. In his hands were my shampoo, toothpaste, and tampons. Nice. Cursing under my breath, I forced my gaze up.
Cam’s jaw was clamped shut, and I had to look away quickly, because seeing him wasn’t good.
“If you laugh, I will punch you in the stomach,” I said, grabbing the rest of the groceries.
“I wouldn’t dare think of laughing.” A hint of amusement filled his tone.
He followed me into my apartment, moving past me and putting the bags on the counter. I did the same, my heart pumping with him in my kitchen. “You didn’t have to help, but thank you,” I said, hands shaking as I pulled the milk out of one of the bags. He was still in the kitchen, standing in front of the door. “I really need to—”
“Do you really think you’re going to get rid of me that easily now that I’m in here?” he asked.
I shoved the milk into the fridge and went to the frozen stuff. “I could only hope.”
“Ha. Funny. We need to talk.”
Stacking the frozen dinners into a pile, I carried them to the freezer. “We don’t need to talk.”
“Yes, we do.”
“No, we don’t. And I’m busy. As you can see, I have groceries to put away and I—”
“Okay, I can help.” Cam strolled forward, heading to the counter. “And we can talk while I help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Yeah, I think you kind of do.”
I whipped around, leaving the freezer door open. Cold air blew across the back of my neck, but I barely felt it over the panic and anger of having to face him. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It doesn’t mean what you think it does, Avery. Jesus.” He thrust a hand through his messy hair. “All I want to do is talk to you. That’s all I’ve been trying to do.”
“Obviously I don’t want to talk to you.” I stormed over to the counter, swiping the pack of hamburger meat off the counter. Tossing it into the freezer, I slammed the door shut. Several items rattled inside and on top of the fridge. “And you’re still here.”
Cam took a deep breath as the muscle along his jaw started thrumming. “Look, I get that you’re not happy with me, but you have to fill me in on what I did to piss you off so badly that you weren’t talk to me or even—”
“You didn’t do anything, Cam! I just don’t want to talk to you.” Pivoting on my heel, I left the kitchen and headed for the front door. “Okay?”
“No, it’s not okay.” He followed me into the living room, but stopped behind the couch. “This is not how people act, Avery. They don’t just up and drop a person or hide from them. If there’s—”
“You want to know how people don’t act?” Stung by the truth in his words, I lashed out. “People also don’t constantly call and harass people who obviously don’t want to see them! How about that?”
“Harass you? Is that what I’ve been doing?” Cam let out a laugh, but it came out harsh. “Are you fucking kidding me? Me being concerned about you is harassing?”
I opened my mouth, but that messy ball had returned, almost strangling me. “I shouldn’t have said that. You’re not harassing me. I just…” I trailed off, running both my hands through my hair. “I don’t know.”
Cam’s lips thinned as he stared at me. He shook his head. “This is about what I saw, isn’t it?” He gestured at my arm, and I tensed. “Avery, you can—”
“No,” I said, holding my hand. “It’s not about that. It’s not about anything. I just don’t want to do this.”
“Do what?”
“This!” I closed my eyes briefly, dragging in a deep breath. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Good God, woman, all I’m trying to do is talk to you!”
His words tugged at my heart, but I shook my head as I met his gaze. “There’s nothing to talk about, Cam.”
“Avery, come on…” Cam sucked in his bottom lip, drawing my attention like he’d dangled a cheeseburger in the face of a starving frat boy. “Okay, you know what? I’m not going to rake myself over fucking hot coals for this. Fuck it.”
I flinched as I took a step to the side. Totally deserved that, but it hurt—it sliced deep.
He brushed past me, reaching the door. “Look, I’m heading home for winter break. I’ll be back and forth, so if you need anything…” He laughed again, the sound humorless as he thrust his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, you don’t need anything.”
An ache poured into my chest as I watched him pull open the door. Cam made it out into the hallway and then he turned around. “You’re staying here, all break by yourself, aren’t you? Even Christmas?”
Silent, I folded my arms across my chest.
He looked away, jaw clenching. “Whatever. Have a good Christmas, Avery.”
Cam stalked toward his apartment and I expected to hear the door slam, but didn’t and somehow that was much worse. I closed my door, my eyes already blurry. This was the right thing to happen. I kept telling myself as I backed up from the door. Brit had been wrong. There wasn’t anything to work out or fix. It was better this way. It had to be.
Except it didn’t feel that way at all.
Chapter 21
Two things happened on Christmas Day. My father texted me to wish me a “Merry Xmas.” Xmas. Couldn’t even type out Christmas. So personal. Love you too, Dad.
And it snowed that evening.
I hadn’t ever seen it snow on Christmas.
Caving into the tiny trill of excitement, I pulled on my jacket and a pair of thick boots and then slipped out of my apartment. Even though I knew no one was home in their apartment, not even Ollie, I glanced at their door as I reached the stairs. I wondered who was taking care of Raphael.
A heavy feeling settled in my chest as I forced myself down the steps and out from under the awning of the apartment building. Strings of multi-colored lights hung from the windows of some of the apartments. Christmas tree lights shone from others. I hadn’t put up any decorations. Didn’t seem like it made sense to go through all of that, but I had ordered myself a Christmas present.
A new messenger bag—distressed leather. A new bag for a new semester.
I don’t know where I was heading, but I found myself in the little patch of field on the other side of the last building. Fluffy white flakes already dusted the ground and were falling thickly.
Shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket, I tipped my head back and closed my eyes. Tiny flakes dropped onto my cheeks and lips. Each little sliver was cold and wet. I stood there long enough that if anyone looked out the window, they’d think I’d lost my damn mind, but I didn’t care.
Cam hadn’t contacted me since the day with the groceries.
Not that I had expected him to, but there was a knot in my chest whenever I checked my phone and there was nothing from him. How twisted was that? I told him that I didn’t want to talk to him, so he stopped. That was what I wanted, wasn’t it?
A different kind of dampness covered my cheeks, mingling with the misty snow, and I sighed. Opening my eyes, I watched the snow fall for a few more seconds and then I headed back inside.
As I stood outside my door, I looked over at Cam’s and whispered, “Merry Christmas.”
The day after New Year’s, I had enough of my solitary confinement and did what I wanted to do. On the cold and blustery day, I pulled up Google maps and drove into the nation’s capital and visited the museums.
I was proud of myself by the time I found a place to park. I didn’t take out a family of four driving in the city, but growing up near Houston sort of prepared me for the insanity of these kinds of roads.
The museums were packed with mostly families, and I wasn’t sure if that was normal for a day after a holiday. I spent most of my time in the Eternal Life of Ancient Egypt portion of the Smithsonian. Truly amazing to see the artifacts from thousands of years ago.
And the mummy was pretty damn awesome too.
The history nerd in me was all kinds of excited as I roamed the wide corridors, even though I was alone and every so many minutes, no matter how many times I told myself to stop, I thought about how Cam had seemed like he had wanted to do this with me. Granted, that had been right before he’d kissed me, so he might have been down for just about anything at that point.
I couldn’t even fool myself into thinking he was still back home, because when I left this morning, I spotted his silver truck parked at the back of the parking lot. Cam was home.
I stopped in front of a display of pottery. Thinking about him kissing so did not help. It made all of this worse. I turned, spying a teenage couple more interested in the feel of each other’s mouths than all the wonder of history laid out before them.
A pang hit my chest.
Okay, maybe coming here wasn’t the smartest of all ideas, but I couldn’t stay home today.
Not when it was my birthday.
The big 2-0.
I hadn’t heard from my parents yet, but I figured they’d text or something, but by the time I left the capital a little before four in the afternoon, I hadn’t heard anything from them.
Yeah, that carried a jelly fish type of sting.
I stopped at the Dairy Queen near my apartment and picked up one of those ice cream cakes. I wasn’t a huge fan of ice cream, but whatever made up that crunchy stuff in the middle was absolutely divine.
With my little slice of cake, I curled up on the couch and made it through half the first season of Supernatural before passing out at an embarrassingly early hour.
I woke up somewhere between four and five in the morning, feeling like fog had invaded my brain. Pushing myself into a sitting position, I winced at the vicious throbbing in my temples. Thinking it was from sleeping on the couch in an awkward position, I stood.
