. 05-07

Author's note:

You definitely will need to have read Part 1 first, FYI. And just a reminder that this is a romance through and through, meant to appeal to your heart, not as much to other parts (; So there will not be sex in every batch of chapters.

Enjoy (:

~~~

Chapter 5

[vibe track: good time girl - sofi tukker, charlie barker]

SMACK. SMACK. SMACK...WHACK.

"RRRGGGGH

GHHHHHHHHHH!

"

Cameron shook her hand out a little, taking a couple quick breaths, glaring as menacingly as she could at the coffee machine that wouldn't cooperate.

Why the FUCK WON'T YOU FUCKING WORK GODDAMMMMMITTTTTTT!

It was entirely too early, entirely too bright. The hypnotic silence of the night was gone, though that was mostly thanks to Cameron. There were still some partygoers slumped on the couches and the floor in the living room, and the fan was still blowing around the varied smells of a Saturday night party gone stale. It wasn't hot yet, at least.

The YouTube tutorial made it seem pretty hard to fuck up. But the machine just fucking

sat

there, doing nothing. She'd poured the water. She'd found some God-knows-how-old coffee grounds lurking in one of the cabinets and dumped in what looked like a reasonable amount -- she hoped, anyway. She'd put the...

thing

in the thing, and now...fucking

NOTHING

.

She wanted to scream. Or just destroy the coffeemaker. Both, actually. But for once, she convinced herself before she did it that beating the shit out of the problem wouldn't actually solve it.

I'd fucking feel a little better about it though. Maybe.

A door creaked open behind her and she whipped around, afraid she had run out of time.

But no, it was Kendra.

Ugh. That's...almost as bad.

For once, Kendra didn't look put together. It was too early even for her, Cameron figured. Her usually meticulously styled hair was flattened on the side and frizzy all over, and she was wearing only a pair of gym shorts and a bra.

Once she saw who was making the racket in the kitchen, she squinted and blinked, looking around, then behind her, and finally back to Cameron.

"What the fuck is going on?" she said in a morning croak.

Cameron simmered, trying to burn through the coffeemaker with her eyes. It still didn't work.

"You're...

making coffee

? On...a Sunday morning? And..." Kendra came closer, sidling up to Cameron as if she were seeing a mirage. "Are you...

showered

? What the fuck happened while I was asleep! What universe am I in??"

It would've been a joke, but Cameron thought Kendra looked so groggy that she probably was 50/50 on whether she'd fallen through some wormhole or something.

Not that Kendra would know a wormhole from a...like...just -- she wouldn't know it. It's too early for this shit.

"Piece of shit--" Cameron smacked the machine on its top again "--won't work."

Kendra gave her a long, confused look, then shifted to see if she could help with the coffeemaker.

"Yeah, I

did

that," Cameron said in protest as Kendra began double-checking her work. "I put the thing in the thing and the coffee in the thing, watered the...

thing

down, all that shit. But it just won't--"

Kendra reached behind all the various things and stretched, plugging in the cord. The machine beeped on.

...

This would

probably

be kinda funny later, but Kendra knew better than to make eye contact right now. Cameron was in no fucking mood, not after wasting 15 minutes at the ass crack of dawn on something she wasn't even sure why she was doing to begin with.

Cameron roughly stabbed the button that hadn't been doing anything and it beeped appreciatively, oblivious to her frustration, as it started its work.

She still didn't turn to Kendra, but she could feel her standing there, trying to figure out what the hell her friend was up to. Cameron opened and closed cabinets instead, but there wasn't enough in them to really need to root through them.

"People like...milk, and like, sugar, in their coffee, right?" she wondered out loud.

"Huh?"

Cameron stopped and turned to Kendra, impatience showing. "Sugar and milk. Or cream, or whatever. People put it in their coffee? Do we

have

any?" She gestured at the cabinets.

"Ohhh," Kendra nodded with understanding. "Yeah, wasn't that on the list for the servants to buy?" She mocked a horrified look and did a British accent that was so bad she dropped it halfway through. "Oh my! Just wait until I tell Lord Haberdashery about this!"

Cameron gave a very long blink, glowering at her best friend.

"Bitch I don't know!" Kendra said in her normal, but exasperated, voice. "I don't drink coffee and neither do you!"

Opening the refrigerator, Cameron hoped maybe someone, for some reason, had some old milk in there. There wasn't any.

"By the way, I heard you scalped Naomi's friend and made her eat it?"

Cameron snorted, shutting the fridge. "I mean...." She thought about it for a second. "Well, I didn't

not

do that, but I wouldn't have said it that way."

"How would you have said it?" Kendra said, amused.

Cameron turned to her. "I pulled some dumb, high bitch who can't read out of my room instead of beating the shit out of her like I should have." She stared Kendra down, daring her to say she was wrong.

Kendra let out a little laugh instead. "Yeah, definitely say

exactly

that to Naomi, right after you tell her you beat the shit out of her coffeemaker, too."

The machine didn't...

look

dented.... Still, Cameron could feel her face flush, and she dropped her head for a second, running a hand through her hair. Kendra was right, she

had

showered, although she hadn't done much with her hair. It was back to her all-natural black now, just swished over to the side so it stayed out of her face.

"Shit. Well..." Cameron sighed, throwing up her hands. "I'll fucking buy her a new one, okay? And some fucking milk and sugar while I'm at it."

Kendra just eyed her, amused at the whole situation. She wasn't sure what was going on, but she was patient, and she'd stick around until Cameron explained or until she figured it out herself. She always did.

In the meantime, Kendra started to tell a story about whatever guy she had waiting for her in her room. Cameron wasn't paying close attention, biting at her nails. She was nervous about the timing, and nervous about what Kendra might say, although that was further down the list. Just an annoyance, really. Cameron's eyes flicked back and forth between her room's door and Kendra.

A few seconds later, the door slowly opened, creaking loud enough for Kendra to stop mid-sentence. She'd seen Cameron's eyes jump wildly to the door, and Kendra turned around to see what was happening.

Henry poked his head out of Cameron's room cautiously, his eyes still bloodshot and his brown hair sticking up in every direction except where it'd been pressed against his forehead. He squinted into the daylight and spotted the two of them in the kitchen.

With a questioning look, he pointed toward the bathroom, and Cameron nodded, adding a little

shoo

signal with her hand to try and get him to move his ass before Kendra started doing...whatever Kendra was gonna do.

That turned out to be just gape.

She turned from Henry to Cameron and back again, then back to Cameron -- her mouth wide open, torn between delight and shock -- as Henry tiptoed to the bathroom in his boxers and the sweat-stained shirt he'd been wearing all night.

Cameron didn't look for the reaction. She knew what it was. Instead, she opened another cabinet and pulled out a mug. She knew where those were, though she never used them. Grabbing a random one, she ran it under the faucet and wiped it off. It said

Oh Yes Wyoming!

on the side with the silhouette of the state and a lasso.

Fuck. Naomi's from Wyoming I'm pretty sure. Guess I'll add this to the tab.

She dried it off and then dumped a couple of Advil from a bottle into her hand, just in time for the coffeemaker to start beeping.

Whew

.

Still staring, Kendra was clearly barely restraining her surprise, and maybe a little...

is she impressed? Proud?

Cameron didn't want to do more than steal a quick glance at her. More would've invited discussion.

She concentrated on pouring the coffee instead, then picked up the Advil and started toward her room, brushing past Kendra.

Does everything have to be a fucking

thing?

Sometimes I feel like doing shit, and sometimes I don't, okay? Jesus.

Cameron wasn't sure who she was arguing with, but she felt like she was losing.

Luckily, Henry came back, giving a shy wave to Kendra, who had of course picked that time to conveniently stand outside her door as if she were

juuuust

heading into her room.

"Hey Selena," he said to Cameron with another of those self-effacing smiles, embracing the awkwardness of the situation. It managed to turn his face into something new, different from the sagging remains of last night, and into something warmer.

As Cameron shut the door behind him, she caught Kendra leaning around with a teasing grin.

"

Selena??

" she mouthed silently. Cameron didn't acknowledge it and shut the door with a little more force than was required.

"Here," she said, shoving the coffee mug in front of him with one hand and the Advil with the other.

He took both, looking down meaningfully at the coffee, then up at her. Another smile crinkled at the corner of his mouth. He got it.

Beneath the bleariness, Henry's eyes were a deep, deep brown. Like there was more there than there should've been. Or something.

Is this the first time we've actually made eye contact?

She wanted to look deeper, but even more strongly didn't want him looking in

her

eyes. The latter won out.

He gulped down the pills and a swig of the coffee with muttered thanks.

"We uh, don't have any milk or cream or sugar or whatever," Cameron said, not really sure what to do now.

Henry shook his head and then froze halfway through, making a concerted effort to swallow more of the coffee. Guess Naomi didn't buy the good stuff.

Well, get what you pay for, asshole. Bring your fucking keys next time you pass out

.

She leaned back against the pock-marked door, propping her foot against it behind her. Her legs were freshly shaved, sticking out of a pair of faded, frayed black jean shorts below a loose, dark purple What So Not T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. He definitely wasn't just looking at the coffee.

Guess the pervert is waking up.

She tried not to roll her eyes.

"So, uh, what's...what's the story with my keys?" he asked, his voice a little raspy. He still looked pitiful -- clearly far, far out of his element.

"Right. You didn't have any. Your buddy--"

"Paul."

"Okay. He had some story about his wife's mom in the hospital. Didn't wanna wait to put you in an Uber. I was there, so I said I'd take you."

She hardened her stare as much as she could. "We're even."

He nodded, but didn't drop her gaze. He just kept looking. "Thank you, really, I was...in a bad place."

The schoolteacher in front of her didn't look like he'd ever been in a bad place in his life. Except maybe her bedroom.

You don't even know what a fucking bad place is. Boohoo, you're fucking divorced.

"Yeah, real fuckin' bad -- you saw your ex and couldn't handle it. I'd hate to see what you'd do if something

actually

fucking bad happened." She crossed her arms, knowing she was daring him to clap back.

He didn't. He just looked up at her over the rim of the coffee mug, and the beginnings of another smile started in the corner of his mouth.

"Nah,

bad

stuff?" he brushed his shoulder. "Rolls right off, no problem. The stupid bullshit,

that's

my kryptonite."

Cameron wasn't sure what to say to that. It didn't sound like a lie, not that it mattered. If she'd been in his position....

I'd've fucking thrown that mug through the fucking door. Of course, I wouldn't have folded at the sight of my ex on the dancefloor, so I wouldn't have ended up crashing on some stranger's--

She bit her lip.

Fuck. Fine. I get it.

Now she felt like an asshole. She'd tried to get a rise out of him for no particular reason.

He

hadn't done that, not when the positions had been reversed. He'd--

stop fucking thinking about it, can't you go a fucking

hour

without fucking thinking about that night? FUCK.

"Oh, thank God," he muttered, looking down at his phone and mercifully pulling her out of her spiral. "Paul's got my keys."

She gave him a sarcastic thumbs-up. Great.

"Umm...where are we? I'll have him just come and pick me up."

She felt her eyebrows scrunch, and she tried to set them back to their normal angle as quickly as she could. She dropped her leg instead.

"I'll...I'll just fucking take you," she said, rolling her eyes and scooping up her keys and wallet from the floor.

"No, really it's--"

"No, really,

it's not

," she said sharply, shutting him up. "Bad enough

you

know where I live, don't need some other fucking pervert stalking me here too."

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him seeming to digest that, like he was swishing it around in his head.

"I don't think Paul's a

pervert

, exactly. I mean, I wouldn't loan him anything you absolutely need back in mint condition, but...." He shrugged and gave her the hint of a smile.

Is he just gonna do that no matter what I say?

"Are you good to go?" she snapped.

"Oh, umm, no, sorry." He made a show of not knowing where to put the mug, but she didn't give any suggestions. He settled on a steady-looking piece of carpet, then quickly pulled on his pants and shoes.

"Good to go," he said, patting his pockets.

"Text me his address." She gave him her number. It was the easiest way, she figured. "You can finish the coffee in the car. If you want," she added.

Cameron wasn't sure why she'd said it in the first place. What the fuck did she care?

Can't start his morning without it,

she thought to herself dryly.

Opening the door, she half-expected Kendra to be there, diving out of the way. The door across the hall was closed, though, and she was nowhere in sight.

He didn't remark on the living room or the dozen or so slumbering idiots in it after they'd gotten to the Shitmobile. He was probably just being polite.

Definitely the type

.

He tried to close the passenger door, but it didn't stay.

"Yeah, no,

stop

," she ordered. "Hold the handle while you close it,

then

let it go."

Gotta get that fucking thing fixed. Or just stop taking passengers. Yeah, that's easier.

She connected her phone to her janky setup and started up the Shitmobile while he drank from the mug again. A part of her felt pleased with herself that he'd brought it with him.

That part is a fucking idiot though, so shut the fuck up.

"Umm, so--"

"You don't have to fucking say 'umm' just to let me know you're uncomfortable. I get it. You're kind of a pussy. That's your thing. Just fucking

say what you're gonna fucking say

."

Cameron slapped the steering wheel with her palm as she finished her outburst, more annoyed with herself for saying anything at all than she was at him.

Jesus, why do you care, just drop him off and you'll never have to listen to any of it again. Now he'll probably cry or something.

He didn't, just sat there silently, occasionally sipping whatever was left in the cup.

Fuck. Why do you keep doing this.

She looked over at him again. All she could see was the night she wanted to forget ever happened. He was just a walking reminder.

And when he melted down, what did he say about you, huh? He told you he thought you were strong, and he thanked you, and he drank your shitty coffee just to be nice. Fuck.

Cameron sighed out loud. She didn't

try

to be an asshole, but it...it just always sorta

happened

. Kendra was the only one who seemed to not let it get to her. She just shrugged it off like nothing, saw right through it. Always had.

"So you're, umm...an English teacher?" she said as they got on the highway. From his sly look, she knew he'd caught her own "umm."

"Yes, I heard it, okay?" she retorted, annoyed. "It doesn't fucking count if it's in the middle of a fucking sentence!"

He put up a hand conciliatorily, shaking his head. "I didn't say anything." That fucking half a smile said he'd been thinking exactly the same thing, though. Before she knew it had happened, she felt a smile flicker across her own face. It was just a fraction of a second, but that was longer than she'd smiled at any other point over the past couple of days. Maybe a week. She shook her head slightly at herself.

"I am, though, yeah. High school English at Polk High," he said, letting her off the hook.

"And your buddy?"

"Paul? He's a gym teacher and football coach."

"So just a couple of teachers out on the town, huh," she said sardonically.

He snorted. "Yeah, a couple of

old

teachers out on the town. This is what happens I guess," he said, gesturing at himself.

She gave him a sidelong glance. "You keep saying that, but you're not

that

old, you know," she said.

"How do you know?"

"Because I know you're 36,

Henry Andrew Mullins

," she said, relishing the reveal.

He didn't seem put off, just surprised. "Well, that seems plenty old once you get there, trust me. Especially when you're...23." He'd practically said it with a gulp, like she was a teenager or something.

"That's not that young, either."

"Mhm." He obviously did not agree. "Hey, serious question."

She braced herself, giving him a warning glance to let him know that just because she'd thawed the ice, they weren't about to start braiding each other's hair. He continued anyway.

"You weren't...in one of my classes when you were in high school, were you?"

What the fuck? Is he into this kind of shit? Did he

really

have a mirror dungeon in his basement?

"What? No, Jesus fucking Christ."

He heaved a sigh of relief that sure seemed genuine. "Thank God. Now

that

would've made me super, super fucking uncomfortable."

"Yeah...you're not the only one." Still, she was reassured a little that he hadn't been hoping for a yes.

"Pretty sure I would've, umm, remembered you, anyway," he said. She expected him to be talking about her tattoos, but his eyes were lingering on her legs instead.

On second thought, Cameron wasn't

that

surprised. She didn't want to think about why she'd made sure to shave them this morning, and why she'd gone for these shorts.

Sometimes I just feel like doing things. There doesn't have to be a fucking conspiracy behind every fucking little thing.

They continued in a not-uncomfortable silence for a bit until she turned off the highway, following the Google Maps directions to Paul's house.

"So you're a DJ?" he said.

She nodded.

"What's your DJ name or whatever? Is that what it's called?"

She shrugged. "Yeah I guess." She paused for a second. She always felt dumb saying it out loud, which is why she rarely did. "Lupine Dreamer."

His eyes lit up and he pointed at the wolves showing on her arms and legs. "I get it. Highbrow, huh."

Cameron shrugged again, not really wanting to get into it. "Yeah, I guess. That's me."

"Hmm...dreamer of wolves? Or a wolf dreamer?" He sounded...

like an English teacher. Ugh.

He seemed to actually expect an answer, too.