Chapter 13

[vibe track: bonfires - blue foundation]

Cameron jolted awake, cluing her in that she’d been asleep. She was finding it hard to breathe, like there was a weight closing in on her.

There wasn’t. Not physically at least.

She could feel his leg intertwined with hers, his arm across her stomach. Her makeshift playlist had ended, and the only sound in the room was their breathing. Looking down, she saw his eyes closed, his body slowly rising and falling in the steady cadence of sleep.

Good.

Cameron needed time to think.

Whatever it was she hadn’t gotten from Jorge or from Gram or from Kendra ... she’d thought maybe she could get it here. From him.

Whatever “it” is.

For some reason, her mind rewound to when he’d kissed her bruises. It had made her tense at first, like it would hurt. But it hadn’t. The physical feeling itself hadn’t been especially good, but that wasn’t what had made it feel so... gentle?

Even when it wasn’t on a bruise, the way he touched her wasn’t just a... lack of roughness. It was with something more. Something she couldn’t quite describe, but hadn’t felt before.

She noticed her hand begin to slide unconsciously through his messy brown hair, where it had remained for ... however long they’d been here passed out on his bed. It was still dark outside, she could tell, so at least it wasn’t morning yet.

Or would that be better? Then I could just leave.

The knuckles of her right hand were still raw from her assault on her door, the skin cracked where they’d been bleeding. She’d carefully reminded herself all night to tuck her chin as much as she could, too, so he couldn’t see what bruising was left on her neck, beneath the wolf’s jaws. She’d been afraid he might notice and ask questions.

But he hadn’t. He didn’t seem to ask the questions she didn’t want to answer.

Now, the same hand moved of its own accord with a softness it wasn’t used to, almost like it was practicing as it stroked his hair. The sensation felt alien to her, she realized, because she’d never done it before. Not once.

Cameron had never been in bed with someone she wanted to... keep touching, to keep them near. There had been people she liked being close to, but this was ... different. None of this came naturally.

Does that say more about me, or the assholes I usually fuck?

She knew the answer to that.

But this guy — Henry...

Her eyes lingered on his body while he slept next to her. He looked dumb — naked and crumpled up on top of the sheets, his limp cock lying across her thigh. It wasn’t particularly small, but was closer to that end than the biggest she’d seen. That didn’t bother her, though. The rest of his body was nothing special either — a guy in his 30s who didn’t hit the gym. But he wasn’t un-attractive.

He was certainly good with his tongue; he had that going for him at least.

His face looked more peaceful than it had the night he’d passed out on her mattress. More relaxed. None of the tightness to his features that seemed to be there even when he was making a stupid joke. She let her fingers glide through his hair again, tracing her thumb across the dark brown tangles. They matched his bottomless brown eyes.

Plus, that smile of his...

She started to feel the weight press down on her again.

This is too much. Jesus. I’m stroking some guy’s head in his bed. What the fuck am I doing. This is gonna get way too complicated, way too quickly. No.

Her breathing was getting shallower, speeding up to match her thoughts. She had to move.

Gently, she started to extricate her leg from under his, trying her best not to wake him. But she knew it was a longshot, so she wasn’t surprised when his eyes fluttered open. No longer needing to be careful, she pulled her hand away from his head and slid out from beneath him, rolling off the side of the bed.

He got up too — slower, stealing wary glances at her.

Does he think I’m gonna like, get angry or something? Or...

They put on their underwear in an awkward silence until he cleared his throat.

“Umm ... you can take a shower if you want.”

Do I smell that bad? Or ... is he self-conscious about finishing on me?

She looked down. His cum was mostly dried by now. Cameron didn’t really care, honestly. She was just gonna wipe it off with a tissue or something and call it good.

Is a shower just a shower? Or does that mean I’m staying the night?

Cameron wasn’t sure whether she thought that would be a bad thing or not yet. She just hadn’t had time to figure out what she was feeling right now.

Her eyes instinctively flicked toward the door. Her escape hatch.

But she realized she hadn’t said anything and was just standing there. “Yeah. Okay,” she mumbled. She looked up to those waiting walnut eyes, trying to make an effort to at least meet the bare minimum of politeness he deserved. “Thanks.”

His face relaxed and the makings of a smile started to spread. She darted her eyes away. She wasn’t in the mood to see it right now, not before she could ... sort some things out.

She trailed him to the bathroom, her phone and her shirt clutched in her hand, where he pulled out a clean towel and set it on the sink. There were like, five more neatly folded in the cabinet.

I only have one towel. And ... I’m not even really sure where it came from. It might not actually be mine.

“There’s uh, a fresh thing of soap under the sink, too, if you’re somebody who doesn’t like using someone else’s soap.”

... to clean your cum off me? She thought they were pretty well past that point.

“Okay. Thanks,” was all she managed.

He gave her a weak smile, looking as awkward as she felt, and closed the door behind him as he left.

She let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding and took a seat on the toilet, relieving herself while she checked her phone. It immediately reminded her of the last time she’d been in this bathroom.

Why would I wanna relive that? Why the fuck did I come here?

Kendra had texted her at some point.

Cameron sighed again, unprepared to answer, then flushed and turned on the shower.

She didn’t want to go back. But it was different from just a few hours ago when she’d been sitting in her car, looking for anywhere else to go.

Stripping her underwear back off, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The reflection of the woman standing there looked even shittier than she had when she’d come to his house.

Her bare body was pale, her hair a stark, black contrast. It looked terrible, matted and greasy from their activities and from days of not being washed. The bruises on her sides were smudged, small, dark circles sticking out even among the black ink around them. And her red, skinned knuckles on her right hand looked more painful than they felt.

It ... it seems like that happened to another person. But it was only yesterday.

The reflection scowled at her, unimpressed by the skinny, dirty, confused and bruised girl with the tiny tits who glared back.

It took her a moment longer than it should have to turn away. The water was warm now, and she got in, shutting the sliding glass door behind her with a sigh at the relief brought by the hot water cascading down her body.

Cameron hadn’t showered in days. The time she hadn’t spent at work, at Gram’s, or at the coroner’s office, she’d spent on her mattress — either high or wishing she was. She hadn’t felt like doing anything else.

The water pouring off of her took with it days of grime and tears she didn’t want to admit to. It felt ... freeing. Like all the shit that had been sticking to her was draining away.

Closing her eyes, she washed shampoo into her hair under the showerhead, and her thoughts drifted back to the feeling of her fingers tangled up in his hair: His head was resting against her side, and she could feel his arm across her chest. He tried to get up—

Fuck. I told him not to.

She felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment, even though it had happened hours ago. She’d been half-unconscious, just lying there in the afterglow. She didn’t usually want to do that. But the way he’d built her up, the way she’d orgasmed against his tongue...

That wasn’t where her thoughts settled in, though. She’d told him not to go because ... that was the part she’d come here for.

She’d had trouble admitting to herself why she’d texted him when she’d been sitting in her car, unsure of where she could safely escape. Now, it was more freeing than washing off the empty feelings of the past few days to finally be honest about it.

There was no way she could’ve gone back to face Kendra. Or to Gram. She could see in her mind’s eye even now how they would have looked at her, like they were hiding their concern. But she could always see it reflected back in their faces, even more clearly than her pathetic reflection in the mirror: They saw the part of herself she hated, the part she was ashamed of — the fragile part of her that, no matter how hard she worked to suffocate and kill it, seemed to only come back to the surface stronger and stay longer.

Usually, she used a guy like Jorge to fuck the weakness out of her, or distract her at least. And usually, it worked. Usually.

This time, though, it hadn’t. It had only left her feeling emptier than ever, and made her realize how fucking alone she really was.

But Henry...

With her eyes shut, she could see him still — the way his expression relaxed when he opened the front door, how he admired her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

He looks at me like I’m ... like I’m not broken. Even though he saw me when I was in fucking pieces.

She let herself remember his arms around her, pulling her as close as he dared that night, the night that didn’t happen. He hadn’t known her. She hadn’t known him. They still didn’t know each other, not really.

But she’d known — or hoped, at least — that this was the one place she wouldn’t constantly be reminded of all the shame she was desperate to bury. And she was right.

Cameron finished her shower, more sure of what she wanted, and tapped out a text to Kendra when she got back out.