Lupine Dreams Pt. 08 Ch. 25-27

Author's note: If you're seeing Lupine Dreams for the first time, welcome! It's a romance through and through, aimed at your heart, not necessarily other parts (; If complicated, imperfect characters you wanna root for are your thing, check out the series page to read a full description and give it a shot! If the characters click with you, you'll be caught up in no time (: But you will need to have read it all to understand what's going on. Enjoy! (:

~~~

Chapter 25

Heather evidently hadn't brought any treats, but that didn't stop Henry from walking into Monday morning coffee practically whistling.

"There he is!" Paul said, toasting his mug to Henry as he took a seat in one of the tiny desks next to Paul and in front of Heather. "The legend himself! You wouldn't believe how often you came up in the locker room on Friday, big guy."

Henry gave Paul a look that said he was used to it. "Hey, with a body like this," he said, gesturing at his mid-30s physique, "I can't expect people not to talk. Just no touching," he said with a smirk and a wag of his finger.

Paul laughed while Henry poured some of the proffered coffee into his Oh Yes Wyoming! mug. Heather didn't seem as amused, but Henry didn't give it much notice.

"So, slugger, what's the story? You two dating? Or you just hang out when you have bus duty?" Paul said.

"Slugger?"

Paul shrugged. "I'm runnin' outta nicknames. 'Champ?' Is that better?"

Henry considered thoughtfully, as if he were a connoisseur -- tasting it -- then gave a slow nod of approval.

"Okay then, champ, I didn't even know you guys were still seeing each other." Paul took a sip of his coffee, asking the question again. "So what's the deal?"

"Umm..." Henry wasn't actually sure what he and Cameron were, which was why he'd been stalling for time. But there really wasn't a better word for what they were doing. "I guess we sort of are, yeah. We're just kinda... feelin' it out." He sipped from his own mug while Paul and Heather exchanged one of their glances. Henry groaned inside.

They don't trust me with anything, do they. Then he stopped himself. Well... if they knew what happened with Mallory, they'd probably feel pretty vindicated about that, huh. Fine. Point taken.

"Sure, that sounds like you," Paul said, deadpan. "All your friends, we call you 'Mr. Go-With-The-Flow.' Because of how chill you are about these kinds of things."

Heather nodded in agreement. "That's right. I wanted Mr. Chill, but that was too close to Mr. Freeze and we didn't wanna get sued." She gave a weak smile, almost like she felt obligated to make some dumb joke but wasn't really feeling it.

They paused for a second and Henry thought maybe the conversation was moving on... but then Heather had more to say.

"So... it's not really anything, like, serious. You're just--"

Paul finished her sentence for her. "Going with the flow. Like you do."

Heather nodded her agreement. "Yeah." She sounded like she was trying to reassure herself rather than asking a real question of Henry.

Henry tilted his head back and forth, not really sure of the answer to that, either.

What does "serious" actually mean? Like, do hospital visits count as serious?

"Well... I... had dinner with her, umm -- like her grandma, I guess, last night. Not really her grandma, but she raised her."

Heather and Paul gave each other another look, longer this time, and Paul didn't seem as amused anymore.

"What?" Henry said, a little miffed at how his friends were treating him.

They're looking at me like I just casually told them I was shooting up heroin or something. What is their problem?

They both shifted uncomfortably in their seats, like they didn't know which one should go first.

"Stop doing that, geez," Henry snapped. "Not gonna lie, guys, I kinda thought you'd be like... I dunno, happier for me. I'm happy. It went really well, by the way, not that either of you asked." He took another sip.

He probably wasn't as pissed off as he sounded, he was just confused why they were being so weird about this. He'd done exactly what they wanted him to do, and here he was, feeling good about it.

And then they keep doing that look between each other that they do when they think I'm about to go off the deep end.

"Hey, no, bro, that' s good, that's good, really," Paul said, conciliatory.

Then Heather took over. "It's just... don't you think that's moving kinda fast?"

Henry wasn't actually going to dispute that. It was kind of fast. But... whatever he and Cameron had going on, it wasn't exactly following a traditional roadmap. So, who was to say what order things had to happen in?

"I'm sure she's cool, really," Heather said, her hands raised defensively. She didn't really seem that sure at all, though, from what Henry could tell. "But... Andrew... you're 36 years old. She's, what, 25?"

He thought that was supposed to be rhetorical, but Heather left it hanging for him to confirm or deny. "Twenty-three," he mumbled.

Heather pursed her lips. "Yeah. Twenty-three. And you... you basically met her parents already after... like a couple weeks or something?" She looked concerned that Henry wasn't going to listen to her.

Gee, I wonder why.

Paul spoke up before Henry could really say anything in response. "Can I ask you something?" he said, sitting up in the fourth-grade desk he was stuffed into. He'd been a little more sympathetic, so Henry nodded, figuring maybe he was gonna be the good cop here.

"What do you guys do when you hang out?" Paul said. As much as Henry wanted to read into it, there wasn't any accusation in the question. He sounded genuinely curious. That made it hard to get upset about.

Then why am I getting upset?

He knew why, of course: They were asking all the questions he'd already asked himself. And he hadn't ever actually come up with the answers.

"What do you mean, 'what do we do when we hang out' -- what do we do when we hang out?" Henry said, gesturing to the three of them without trying to keep the resentment from his tone.

Paul shrugged. "We play boardgames, we go see movies sometimes. We've got the staff softball team in the spring--"

Henry held up a hand. "Okay, geez, I get it," he said. "Fine, Paul -- I'll date you."

Heather didn't seem amused, but Paul laughed.

"I mean, you get what I'm saying though, right, man? Hey, hey, don't get me wrong," Paul continued, cautioning with his hand, "I'm the one who told you to get out there and explore the universe of pussy, I know I did. And that's good, man! I'm really glad you found somebody." Henry could tell a major "but" was incoming. "But... maybe, you know, maybe just be careful with how quickly you... like...." He looked extremely uncomfortable, trying to figure out the right word, and eventually just let it drop.

Heather picked it up. "Andrew," she said in a low tone, like she was trying to level with him about a secret. She was fiddling with her coffee cup, clearly just as uncomfortable as Paul... and yet, continuing anyway. "You... you seem like you're really putting a lot into this, is all." She looked up to his eyes now. "How many dates have you even been on? Not counting, you know, the dinner with her grandma." Heather either wasn't as good at keeping the accusation out of her voice as Paul was, or she wasn't even trying.

Henry's cheeks burned. "It's... hard to say," he said, jutting out his jaw. Why are they pressing this so fucking hard? They don't even know her! "It's not that simple, okay?"

Heather nodded as if she'd known he was going to say that. "So... less than five?"

Henry's lips pressed into a straight line and he looked to Paul for support. But he was inspecting his coffee cup.

When Henry didn't answer, Heather tried again. "Less than four?"

Henry snapped his eyes to her, pissed off now -- both that she was pushing it, and that he couldn't really give a number because of the weird ways he and Cameron had usually ended up together.

Does it count as a date if she's recovering from the hospital? How about when I was blackout drunk and passed out on her mattress?

"Fewer than four," the English teacher in him spat out icily, even while confirming her guess. "Yeah. Sure."

Heather nodded again, like she was laying out a case in court and the witness had just admitted to something damning. Paul shifted further with a discomfort that had nothing to do with the size of the desk. That meant Heather must have more to say.

When she did, her voice was quiet, but with an even sharper edge to it. She was saying something she didn't take joy in, but felt needed to be said. Or needed to be heard.

"Did your 'family emergency' last week have anything to do with her?" Heather's green eyes were as caring as ever, but they were steady, expecting an answer. Not because she wanted to know -- clearly because she already knew. Somehow.

Henry smacked his mug down on the desk, sloshing a bit of coffee over the side. "Yes, okay, she was in the fucking hospital, and then she stayed with me for a couple days. So I don't know, Heather -- maybe you can decide whether that adds to my date counter or not." His voice was raised now, nearing a yell. "What the fuck is this? Why are you guys ambushing me over this?"

They looked at each other again, infuriating Henry even more -- until he realized that meant they still weren't done. What the hell, they have more??

Without looking at him, Heather gingerly pointed to the mug he'd slammed on the desk. "I noticed you got a new mug a little bit ago," she said quietly.

Henry's wild eyes darted down to the mug, staring at it as if it had betrayed him.

"We're happy you're moving on from Mallory -- really, that's great, man," Paul said, just as gently. In fact, it unnerved Henry how gently he was speaking. "Maybe we pushed you too fast to get back out there. I'm sorry, man, really." Paul reached over and patted him on the shoulder. Henry wasn't ready to look up and acknowledge him yet.

"You just were so wrapped up in Mallory," Paul continued, "like she dictated every part of who you were. And you're a great dude!" He waited until Henry finally looked up at him, to see the earnestness on his face. "Too good a dude to have somebody else decide who you are for you. You get what we're saying?" Paul looked pained, like he was trying to will understanding into his friend. Frankly, Henry wasn't entirely sure he wanted it.

More likely, Henry thought to himself, he already understood what they were saying before they'd even said it. He just hadn't wanted to face it yet. He still didn't.

Chancing a look at Heather, she returned the same pained, hopeful expression as Paul, still fiddling with her mug.

Henry's gaze drifted back down to the coffee cup Cameron had given him after he spent the night at her apartment, when he'd been so fucked up.

So fucked up just from seeing my ex-wife out and about somewhere. That was all it took for me to completely disintegrate. And then... not to mention... the backsliding they don't even know about.

After their ill-advised night together, he'd delved so deep into the depths of that depression Mallory had left him in. And then, he'd come out of it so easily when Kendra had called him to the hospital.

Poof.

His emptiness had been almost completely wiped away just by getting Cameron to smile at him once -- the girl he barely knew, really. The girl he had nothing in common with. The girl who was basically still a girl, closer to his niece's age than to his own. Mallory had left him in shambles, and then he'd attached himself to the first woman who came along -- and let her control his mood instead.

That's... that's not what happened. That's not how it felt. That's not what this is, goddammit!

He didn't know who he was trying to convince.

Looking back up at Paul, then to Heather, their expressions hadn't changed. They probably saw the turmoil plainly on his face -- apparently they could read him like a book.

"That's... that's not how it is," he said out loud now. But there was as little conviction in his voice as there had been in his thoughts.

Heather took a deep breath, again looking for courage in her cup before turning back up to him. "Andrew... what does she call you?"

He froze. He didn't want to answer. But he knew Heather already knew the answer, and that she knew he knew. She just wanted her friend to face it, to come to terms with what he already knew: He'd given up so much control of his own identity that he'd let some girl he barely knew change his name.

Even... even in my own head.

A chill spread up Henry's spine, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He was spinning, and he gripped the desk tightly, hoping the other two teachers wouldn't notice.

The words he'd spoken to his sister a few weeks ago rippled through his mind like the tear that was dropping into his coffee: Who even am I without her?

Did he have any idea who he was on his own? If he didn't have someone to latch onto... would I be anyone at all?

Heather had gotten up and come around, kneeling in front of him now. Why did he constantly have to be treated like a child?

Maybe because I keep acting like one.

"We want you to be happy," she said softly, tipping up his chin to look at her. "Really, Andrew, we do. Maybe... don't be in such a rush, though, okay?" She gave him a weak smile, trying to build him back up now that they'd broken him down. "And maybe... maybe whatever this thing is you've got with Cameron, maybe it's the real thing. Why couldn't it be? We're not saying it's not, or that there's anything bad about her -- nothing like that." Paul's hand was on his back now, adding his support. "Just... go slow. Be careful. That's all we're saying."

Henry didn't know what to say. He looked down again. The Oh Yes Wyoming! cup stared up at him smugly, no reflection showing in the muddy brown coffee inside.

Is that because it's coffee and not water?

Or is there just nothing for it to reflect back?

Chapter 26

[vibe track: higher self - karmic]

Jessica was getting over a two percent response rate today -- higher than Cameron usually managed. Maybe it was something in her voice. Today, even her cubicle didn't feel as hopeless.

She pretended to check the time on her cellphone again, even though it was right there on her computer screen. Henry hadn't responded yet.

He hadn't had much to say today, despite her prodding. She didn't want to look desperate though, so she'd left it alone.

Maybe they caught on to the whole porn scheme and he has to actually teach.

Everybody had a teacher in school who really spoke to them. Even Cameron. She didn't have many times she wanted to remember from school, but Mrs. Hennings was always kind, and she let Cameron stay in her classroom some afternoons to wait for Gram to come get her.

How many kids feel that way about Henry? About "Mr. M?"

She smiled to herself, pretty sure she knew the answer just from a few minutes of watching him on bus duty.

Tonight, she was heading back to her apartment. Her first night since... since she'd been in the hospital.

Surprisingly, though, Cameron found she wasn't actually feeling that anxious about it.

It's just a place. A room.

The only thing in it was whatever she brought with her. Right?

Right.

Plus... Henry will be there.

***

Work went by more quickly than Cameron had thought possible. On her way to the Shitmobile, she texted Henry to let him know she was leaving work. He still hadn't responded yet, but she wasn't that concerned. She was the ghoster, not him.

When she walked into her apartment, she heard a door close somewhere down the hallway. It wasn't Kendra, she knew. Kendra was in Sacramento again. She wasn't really sure why her friend kept having to make trips over there to check out that school.

Isn't that something you can do online anyway?

Cameron's other roommates... weren't real big fans of hers. They'd all moved in here out of convenience. Only Cameron and Kendra had known each other beforehand, and if one of the others had an issue with Cameron -- one bad enough that they thought it was worth the risk to bring up -- they went to Kendra with it, not Cameron. That was probably smart for everybody, she admitted to herself.

Well, not Viv. She's not afraid of me. But she's hardly ever here.

That left the mystery door-closer as either Parker or... Naomi. Cameron's eyes flicked to the coffeemaker in the kitchen. It looked like it was still working fine. So why did she feel guilty?

Oh right.

She remembered the feeling of Naomi's friend's hair ripping off her scalp, the frightened, wild look in her eyes when Cameron threatened to kill her.

I... was ready to, too. Fuck.

Who even was that person? Cameron had a hard time believing she could've ever felt that angry, that full of rage. But she had. That person was still inside somewhere, she knew.

The least I can do is replace her mug, I guess. Fuck. I still gotta do that.

Cameron slowed to a stop outside her room. A new door was staring back at her, one that looked much sturdier, like it wouldn't bow very easily from a few punches.

It's just a room.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for the brand-new doorknob and slowly turned the gleaming, bright brass. The door swung open easily, without so much as a squeak.

As she flicked on the light and stepped into the room, she expected to feel... something.

But she didn't.

See? It's just a room.

Cameron let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

The faint, lingering smell of bleach and cleaner stung her nostrils. The carpet had clearly been cleaned. The two other mattresses were stacked snugly in a corner and her own was in the middle of the floor, the wooden warning sign lying on top of it. Wispy gray curtains had replaced the blackout shades that had hung there before, the new ones left wide open to let in the glare of the streetlights and a view of the building across the street.

Cameron checked the closet, making sure nothing else had been changed -- but it had. Her tops were all hanging in a row and the rest of her clothes were in neat, separate piles.

Kendra's been busy.

Her friend had her own shit to deal with. But she'd found time to wash and organize all Cameron's clothes anyway. For some reason, that made her miss Kendra -- and appreciate her -- even more than the clean carpet or the new door.

She set down the duffel bag that held all the stuff she'd been wearing and using at Henry's and Gram's the past week, vowing to deal with it later just as carefully as Kendra had done... though she was pretty sure she wouldn't.

After opening the window a crack so she could smoke, Cameron dragged her mattress parallel and tossed the handmade sign into the closet. Finally, she took a seat on the mattress and set her backpack down, heaving a sigh.

It was quiet.

The occasional mumble of some TV show came from the room next to her, only a little less audible than the rumble of nighttime traffic outside the open window.

Naomi then.

Cameron's eyes settled on a spot in the center of the room, uncovered now that she had moved her mattress. It was lighter than the rest of the carpet, bleached into a splotchy oval. She couldn't remember what happened there. And she didn't want to.

Before she could start to spiral, she pulled her laptop out of her pack and set it up, hitting play on Attack of the Torcons! -- something about aliens with funnel-shaped heads that could teleport from clouds to anywhere on the planet to wreak destruction. It was just noise to have on.

Lazily, she ripped open a bag of chips she'd taken from the vending machine at work and stuffed a couple into her mouth.

8:37. No new texts from Henry.

Is he still--

A faint noise interrupted her train of thought, which was welcome. She paused the movie, not sure she'd actually heard anything. Then she heard something like a quiet taptaptap from the direction of the front door, and she relaxed.

"COME IN!" she yelled. She didn't hear the door open though. Her phone buzzed. Henry.

Are you in your apartment?

She rolled her eyes, a smile starting at the corners of her mouth.

yeah just come in

Their door was rarely locked. Too many people were coming and going at all hours, usually, for that to be practical. They'd never had too much of a problem with it.

A few seconds later, Henry was standing in her doorway, wearing the same kind of thing she'd seen him in at school -- a checkered button-down and khakis. Only, the button-down was untucked at this time of night.

What a rebel. The Napkin Bandit himself.

"Hey," she said, and Cameron smiled at him. She couldn't help it. Didn't want to help it. She was happy to see him. Relieved, really.

But her smile faltered when she saw his expression. His usual half-smile was down to a quarter, and his deep brown eyes looked spent.

"Hey," he said, but he sounded just like he looked. He didn't seem to know what to do, so she patted the mattress next to her and slid her laptop out of the way to give him a lane.

He didn't close the door when he came over, which she supposed she was okay with. Only Naomi was home anyway, apparently, and with no Kendra to run interference between her and Cameron, she probably wouldn't dare to set foot outside her room until she absolutely had to.

Henry dropped an overnight bag against the wall and he slumped down next to Cameron, groaning out an "oof."

She nudged him playfully with her elbow. "You're not that old." She smirked at him, but he didn't really look at her, just gave a wan smile stretched too thin across his face. His eyes were on the laptop instead, but Cameron wasn't sure he was really watching it.

He winced at the crunch of a chip in her mouth, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, you okay?" she said quietly in between bites. His fists clenched and unclenched, and her eyebrow arched higher. Damn, what could make Henry so--then her face dropped. Probably something with his wife. That's the only time I've ever seen him look like this.

Henry let out a sigh. "Yeah." She wasn't convinced. "How was work?" he said, forcing himself to look at her now. It was like he was making a conscious effort to try and brighten himself up.

She took a beat, studying him, before shrugging. "It was work. How about you?" She offered him the bag of chips but he declined.

"Yeah pretty much the same." He turned his eyes back to the laptop and they both watched for a bit as some scientists tried to harness the power of lightning -- which in this case was one of those plasma ball things that people said were always in science museums. Cameron had never been to one to check.

"Like flaming globes, Sigmund! Like flaming globes!" she said in mocking unison with one of the silver-goggled scientists, nudging Henry again. She'd been certain seeing her be so goofy -- a rare occurrence outside of her own head -- would've guaranteed a laugh out of him. But he just wore another weak smile.

"Hey," she said quietly, seriously -- and she didn't say anything more until he finally returned her stare.

She searched his eyes, trying to figure out what was going on in there. She thought she was getting better at understanding them but... she couldn't even get a clue now.

"What's wrong?" she said softly, hoping she was conveying that she really did want to know, whatever it was.

One side of his mouth tugged itself over, but not into a smile. He was debating something, apparently. She let him debate whatever it was. She understood. Her own mind took a while to sort through all the shit she was thinking at any given moment, too.

"Do you..." he started, not looking her in the eye anymore, "ever think about how we don't, like..." his hands seemed like they were trying to conjure up the right word.

She finished for him. "Talk? Hang out?" He looked up at her, a little surprised, and nodded in hesitant, almost ashamed agreement. Cameron raised her eyebrows and crunched another chip. He winced again and practically bit down on his lip.

What is going on with him?

Through it, though, he looked at her expectantly, like that was all he'd wanted to ask and was waiting for her answer.

"I mean, what are we doing right now?" she said, waving at the movie playing on the laptop and the two of them chatting on her mattress. His face scrunched upward, acknowledging she had a good point there.

"How about that, like, we don't really..." his hands searched for words again, and again, she found them for him instead.

"... have anything in common?"

"Yeah," he said, his deflating voice in contrast to the pleased look on his face that she'd known exactly what he was getting at.

Cameron didn't know what this was about, but she was already well acquainted with these questions. Until last night, they'd weighed at the back of her consciousness, threatening to pull everything else into their wake.

She shrugged. "Honestly? I try not to think about that shit," she said. She was about to go back for another chip, but then froze and eyed him, a thought suddenly dawning on her.

Is he... fuck... am I about to be broken up with? Fuck. FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK.

Cameron tried to keep her face straight, just in case she was getting ahead of herself.

I probably am, right? I always do. I mean, he brought his overnight bag! So... he's... nah. Nah. He's just nervous, that's all. Gotta be. Yeah.

Still, her heart was racing faster than her thoughts.

"Why?" she heard him say, and she focused her attention back on what was happening in front of her.

"Why do I not think about that shit?"

He nodded.

She felt her eyebrows knit together, confused. But she did him the courtesy of giving the question real consideration. As she thought about what she wanted to say, she chewed on another chip, watching the scientists' secret base thrown into chaos by a sudden Torcon attack.

Finally, she just shrugged again. "What's it matter?"

Sitting next to her, his legs stretched out across her mattress and onto the freshly cleaned carpet, there was a struggle going on in Henry's eyes -- Cameron could tell that much. They were strained, maybe exhausted from a day full of the same struggle.

"I... I don't know," he sighed. His whole body seemed to droop. "I guess I just wanted to know why we even--"

She interrupted him. "No, I mean, because what's all that other shit matter?"

He stopped and looked back at her, not quite understanding. His dark brown eyes were looking for something in hers. She didn't know what, but she wanted to help him find it.

"I do think about it," she said, starting to explain what she'd meant, but then pausing, getting ready to say something that she wouldn't have even thought to herself a week ago, much less said out loud. Now, though... now she wanted to say it. She wanted him to know it. He seemed like he needed to. Cameron took a deep breath.

"But... I like who I am when we're together. And I like who you are, too." She said it matter-of-factly, because that's how she felt it. His eyes softened as she spoke, and she shrugged again. "So... what's it matter if we don't check all those other boxes? The rest is bullshit."

She ate another chip and waited for how he'd take it. He seemed like he wanted to beam that smile of his she kept expecting to see whenever she looked at him, the corner of his mouth almost twitching.

But his eyes weren't going along with it. They looked sadder than they had before, and he heaved a deep sigh, watching the Torcons victoriously leave the secret base in shambles, the plan to defend against them seemingly defeated.

He looked over to her again.

"How... how do you know it's the real you? The you that you, umm, are with me -- the one you like? How do you know the... the other you, isn't the real you?"

Cameron let her confusion show. No, she wasn't confused by what he was getting at, the question itself just... didn't make sense to her. That's not how she saw things. The answer, to her anyway, was obvious.

"They're all the real me."

He blinked a couple of times, staring at her blankly, and his eyes glassed over. She wasn't sure what that meant until a smile did start to tug at the corner of his lips -- just a tiny fraction -- filling Cameron with relief.

Whatever he'd been looking for, she must've given it to him. Her heart rate started to calm, and she leaned back against the wall.

"The last time I was in this room," she said in a faraway voice that surprised her, "well... you know." Her eyes drifted to the light spot on the carpet for a moment, then she turned back to Henry. "You know I was afraid to come back in here. I thought... I thought, somehow, that I'd... I'd turn back into the me who I was that night. But... that didn't happen."

Cameron moved the bag of chips to her other hand so she could put the one that wasn't covered in crumbs on his, resting them both on his thigh. The gesture felt new to her, but his fingers wrapped around hers like it was natural. Maybe that's what was helping her speak with more confidence than ever before about her own feelings.

"Because fuck this room," she continued in the same quiet, even voice, looking into Henry's eyes as she held his hand. He stared back at her like he desperately wanted her to make sense. She hoped she did. "This room doesn't decide who I am. I do. And I choose the me I am right now.

"With you."

Cameron squeezed his hand, and the smile she'd been looking for since he arrived spread over half his worried face, his eyes a little moist. She smiled back at him, relieved to finally see it.

"Me too," he said quietly, sounding as exhausted as he looked. He leaned over to rest his head on her, reaching into the bag to take a chip, and she felt his jaw moving against her angular shoulder as he chewed. She didn't know how to react.

Cameron put the chips down and wiped the crumbs on her T-shirt. Trusting her instincts to help express what she was feeling inside, she wrapped her arm around Henry, letting him lean against her more comfortably, his head in the curve of her neck. She could feel him relax, the tension leaving him in her embrace.

It was another new feeling, another new experience for her, and it felt odd to have her arm around someone bigger than her -- holding him. But nothing about it felt wrong. She just had never thought she would've ever wanted to do something like this.

But this Cameron, the one in her room -- holding Henry against her while they watched the Torcon attack foiled in the end by sunlight dispersing the clouds -- wanted nothing else.

***

They were halfway through It Came from Vordox 9. They'd switched to Cameron's phone instead of her laptop so they could get more comfortable -- Henry between her outstretched legs, leaning back against her chest with his head tucked against hers.

It was Henry's turn to hold the phone, the only light in the dark room.

Cameron blew smoke up toward to the window and dabbed her cigarette against the edge of the ashtray to her side, her other arm draped around Henry's chest. She could feel the remains of a smile still on her face.

Smiles came so easily these days. In every way, she was sure she'd never felt more comfortable in her life.

I wish I could freeze this moment forever, take it with me for when shit gets bad.

A flash lit up the room and she blinked up in alarm. Once her vision cleared -- there was Kendra, lowering her phone, standing in the open doorway with a shit-eating grin on her face.

"Ha! Caught in the act!" Kendra exclaimed, pleased with herself.

Confused, Cameron held up her hands to show her friend that she hadn't caught her doing anything.

"Nah, caught in the act of bein' domestic," Kendra said with a simpering smile.

Cameron felt herself blush and stuck up the middle finger of her cigarette hand. But Kendra's grin had spread to her, now. Kendra quickly whipped her phone back up and snapped another photo, making all three of them laugh.

"What's with the photoshoot?" Cameron asked. She knew her voice sounded livelier, bouncier than it normally did. Seeing Kendra and Henry in the same room had a lot to do with it, she was sure.

Kendra shrugged, wearing what looked like a wistful smile. Wherever she'd been, she looked like she'd dressed up -- she could've been a teacher at Henry's school, Cameron thought to herself.

"We never take any," Kendra said, apparently believing that was sufficient explanation.

Cameron wouldn't have thought so even a couple of days ago. But after seeing Gram's photo album, she found herself agreeing. "Don't post that to your Insta," she warned. "Can't have all those thirsty high school girls seeing what cool Mr. M gets up to on a Monday night." She patted Henry on the chest playfully and she felt him laugh. Making him smile only made her want to smile more, too.

Kendra laughed along, but shook her head. "Nah. Just for us."

"How was Sacramento?" Cameron asked before Kendra left. She was making an effort to ask these kinds of things -- the kinds of basic questions of the people she cared about that she'd realized she hardly ever asked.

Kendra shrugged again, but hesitated before answering. "It was good." Then another pause, this time looking at the two of them with a smile.

She's in big-sister mode again. But Cameron didn't mind it.

"'Night you two," Kendra said, still grinning, and closed the door behind her on the way out.

Henry twisted his head to look up at Cameron, and she nodded for him to go ahead and play the movie again. She took another drag before exhaling into the window.

"What was she doing in Sacramento?" Henry asked her idly.

"Visiting some cosmetology school or something? That's the one where they cut hair and stuff, right?"

He nodded into her collarbone. "So that's what she wants to do?"

Cameron felt her brow furrow.

Do?

She and Kendra had talked about their futures, naturally. In the dreams they'd shared in the wee hours of tired mornings, they'd always said they wanted to buy a nightclub together. Of course, when they were 17, their plan was to buy a record label. She wasn't sure if the nightclub plan was just as pie-in-the-sky, or whether it was a serious aspiration -- for either of them.

"Umm..." she started, and he nudged her gently, getting her to sputter a little acknowledging laugh. "I don't... I don't actually know, I guess. I've never really thought about that. Or what I wanna do for that matter."

"What do you mean?" he said without even looking back at her. "You're a DJ."

She smiled down at the top of his head warmly. He'd said it so nonchalantly, like it wasn't some hobby, or some dream, or anything but what she was. She kissed his brown hair, lingering for a few seconds, breathing him in and resting her cheek against the warmth of his head. She felt his free hand squeeze the one she was using to hold his chest.

A notification popped up over the movie. A text from Kendra: a heart followed by a happy-crying emoji with media attached.

What's it say about me that that's the first time I've had a text since we started watching?

Henry handed the phone off to her so she could pause the movie and check the message. She smiled again, feeling the same wistful look come over her face as she'd seen on Kendra's.

The first photo Kendra sent was candid, Cameron and Henry's faces lit only by the glow of the phone Henry was holding, as content in her lap as she was holding him there. There was no flash on this one.

How long was she standing there without us noticing?

The second had the flash, casting their shadows on the wall behind them.

The third showed Cameron with a sardonic grin, a cigarette tucked next to her middle finger, and Henry was smiling that self-effacing half-smile. He didn't look anything like he had when he'd arrived tonight. He was relaxed, happy. So was she, even as she flipped off the camera.

She wasn't sure which one made her grin most. She held the phone down so Henry could see too, returning to her cigarette in the meantime.

The photos reminded Cameron of the ones she knew were in Henry's wallet.

Or maybe they're not still in there. She exhaled and shook her head just to herself. No, people don't clear out their wallets. Mallory's still in there. But maybe he doesn't even remember they're there. She doubted that, too.

When Henry snorted, she looked down at the photos again -- he'd scrolled to the flip-off one.

Mallory had looked elegant in all the photos she'd seen, including in the candids she found in Henry's drawer.

Even with cake smashed into her face.

She glanced again at the photo of herself in a tanktop, tattoos up and down her arms, piercings dotting her face and ears, five-dollar bracelets and bands hanging from her wrists, and a cigarette in her hand as she flipped off the camera.

With a sigh, she put out the cigarette in the ashtray and wrapped both her arms around Henry. She couldn't let Mal haunt her too.

Besides. He's in my arms now, bitch.

He turned to look up at her and she looked down into his deep brown eyes. They were at peace, though she knew whatever was buried underneath them hadn't gone anywhere. She knew all too well how that worked. But when he was with her, maybe...

Maybe I can at least make it go away for a while. Like he does for me.

"We look good, don't we?" Henry said, that smile still right where she'd left it.

Cameron smiled back at him.

"We really do."

Chapter 27

Henry had been so happy when he'd gotten up this morning. He'd been anxious about meeting Gram yesterday, partly because -- who wouldn't be anxious meeting their girlfriend's... guardian? He wasn't even sure he was supposed to call Cameron his girlfriend, much less how he was supposed to describe Gram.

But it went so well that he'd felt relieved and almost giddy the rest of the night, which carried over into the morning.

Then came morning coffee.

What Paul and Heather had said shook him to his core -- only because everything they'd said rang so true. So how was it that here he was, a little more than 12 hours later, basically jumping right back in where he'd left off?

He'd been far from sure he was even going to come here tonight. He didn't trust himself to... to not do exactly what I'm doing right now.

He did decide to come tonight because Henry knew he couldn't leave Cameron in the lurch like that. He'd kept thinking about how anxious she was to spend the night in this place filled with memories she didn't want to relive -- and couldn't bear adding one more to the list. No. He couldn't do that to her.

After he'd arrived, though, he hadn't been the one doing the comforting.

Cameron's hair tickled his nose and he inhaled, his hand tucked securely under hers around her midsection. She'd taken a shower before bed, mercifully sparing Henry the worst of the stench of cigarettes that was nearly always on her. She didn't smoke that much, but it was usually there anyway, sometimes fainter and sometimes stronger. It still was -- especially on her old, worn mattress -- but now he could more easily ignore it at least, focusing on the scent his brain identified as uniquely Cameron.

It made him feel a little calmer.

Do I just ignore everything I don't wanna smell?

She always made him feel that way though. Just like she had tonight. He'd come here so torn apart inside, so unsure of who he was. Now...

I like the me I am with her.

No. It was more than that. It wasn't just when he was with her.

The me she sees inside myself. Henry.

Mallory had made him feel invincible when they were around each other. And when she wasn't... it was like... it was like she was the only atmosphere I could breathe, and when she took it away, I was suffocating.

From the outside, he knew it looked like he was making the same mistakes all over again. Paul and Heather had convinced him of that this morning -- and yeah, from their perspective, it made perfect sense. On top of that, there really was no way to refute it. They'd done such a good job that he still had lingering doubts, lurking in the dark corners that came out to rule his mind at night.

And he knew there was no way to explain to his friends, no way to convince them, that he understood what they were saying -- but that wasn't what was happening with Cameron. He was sure of that inside now -- or, as sure as he could be with a heart inside himself he knew could be untrustworthy.

He pulled her a little closer.

I choose Henry. Not for anybody else. For me.

Cameron had handled his cold feet much more calmly than he'd expected. She was... well he didn't want to say she was like a different person, because she'd made clear her philosophy on that. But ever since she'd come home from the hospital, she seemed more comfortable in her own skin. And from how she'd handled his questions, it was clear she'd already spent a lot of time thinking about them herself -- and had been quicker to answer them than he had.

Just even more to admire about her.

Gently, he kissed the back of her neck and closed his eyes, confident sleep would finally find him.

Or at least, it would have if he hadn't felt her squirm against him. She was usually extremely still in her sleep. The way she could casually press her body to him underneath her old blue blanket, it was another marked change from how she'd been the first time they'd shared a bed. She'd flinched at his every touch then, all the muscles in her body constantly taut and tense, stressed even when she was unconscious.

It didn't feel like that now. Now, Cameron slid against him easily, her panties rubbing over the thin fabric of his boxers, teasing him.

She must know I'm awake.

When she kept going, slowly sliding herself up and down, he got the idea that it might've been more than a tease. He could feel himself start to react, especially as his thoughts began to shift from how much he admired her on the inside to how much he admired her on the outside.

Cameron was in a typical gray tanktop and comfortable panties -- he'd never seen her wear anything he would've called intentionally sexy, although he'd also never seen her wear anything that he didn't find sexy anyway. He was in only boxers. So, who was he to judge, really.

She gripped his hand across her chest, pressing herself more insistently back into the growth in his underwear, making it grow further against her firm rear. Henry kissed her neck again, more sensually this time, letting his tongue taste her skin and work slowly down to her shoulder.

Over her shirt, he slid his hand higher, taking hers with it to grasp her breast. Her breasts were smaller than Mallory's, the perfect size for his hands. He squeezed over the tanktop and she responded by grinding harder into him.

He wanted more, slipping his hand under her shirt -- sliding along her smooth, soft skin -- and squeezing her bare breast, her nipple pointing against his palm. A sigh escaped her lips as he kneaded her and this time pressed himself forward, sliding his leg between hers.

The rustle of the friction between their bodies under the blanket was the only sound in the room, the night still and quiet.

He moved his fingers down her torso, over her belly button, and under the waistband of her panties. She was smooth, freshly shaved -- maybe that's another reason she took a shower, he thought to himself. For this moment.

She sighed again and guided his hand, pressing his fingers to her mound, helping him rub her exactly where she wanted. He pulled her gently against him, feeling himself grow with every movement of their bodies.

As her breathing quickened, she moved his hand and turned to him, his arm around her now and squeezing the cheek of her taut, petite butt. Cameron's lips met his, her tongue darting inside as he felt her hand pull him closer. He pressed himself against her, feeling the desire in himself rising, and tasting her own desire with every second their passionate kiss continued.

She nudged him onto his back and slid on top of him, twisting her body against his underneath the blanket -- trapping her breasts against his chest. Cameron kissed him again, even more passionately this time, but with a controlled need -- for him.

He knew how it felt. He needed her too. But he wasn't sure he'd ever felt being on the receiving end.

Her tongue was warm against him, slipping out of his mouth and to his neck, then back up to his jaw and to his mouth again -- ending with another long kiss as she reached behind herself to tug down her panties. She nearly kneed him in a sensitive area as she kicked them off, staying close to his body under the blanket, and then pulled his underwear off for him.

He could feel the heat from between her legs radiating against his naked cock, and it only heightened his desire. She pushed herself against it, sliding along its modest length and pinning it to somewhere below his belly button -- beckoning it to grow to full mast with each twist against his shaft.

They didn't need to say a word as she leaned down to kiss him again, deeper still. A small, quietly pleading moan traveled from her mouth to his. Henry wrapped his arms around her back underneath the blanket, pulling her tighter and returning the craving in her kiss with more to spare.

Cameron lifted off of him and reached beneath herself, guiding him into her warm, waiting opening. Slowly she worked him into her slick, tight pussy. He knew he wasn't big enough to stretch her out or anything so dramatic, but she let out a high-pitched sigh, trying not to disturb the silence of the night -- or any of her roommates -- as she pulled him deeper inside.

Henry let out his own muted groan, keeping his mouth shut to muffle the sound he made when he felt himself fully engulfed in Cameron on top of him.

It wasn't as dark as it had been when he'd stayed in this room weeks ago -- in every way. He couldn't see her perfectly, but without the blackout curtains, he could see Cameron's shining silhouette against the soft glow of the window behind her as she rose up to her full height, tossing off her tanktop and letting the blanket drop off the both of them.

He reached up to her breast as she arched her back, and she let out a sigh of pleasure, sliding herself up and down his shaft. He squeezed and tweaked a nipple, and her hand joined his as she closed her eyes, disappearing into the feeling.

The wolf's jaws tattooed on her neck stretched open and closed as she rode him, twisting and rocking while she bent forward and back on his body -- until she lowered herself to him again, picking up her pace. Her hand braced against the floor beside his head, and she rested the other on his cheek, continuing to pump his cock as her legs flexed her up and down, faster and faster.

"Yesssss, Hennrrryy," she whispered into his ear, the first words spoken. They were gentle, not crazed, as soft as her lips felt against his when she punctuated her point.

He moved a hand to help beneath her, but she stopped him, whispering into his ear again. "No, no, I want it like this. Just like this."

She moved her hand under his head instead, pulling him up to kiss her again. He was getting harder and harder with each word she whispered to him.

Henry had never had sex that felt this personal, this intimate before. Even when he and Mal had been at their best, it was great -- but he'd never felt as close to his wife as he felt to Cameron in this moment. He didn't want it to end.

He reached down and grabbed at the backs of her thighs, her feet digging against the mattress and wrapping around his body underneath him while she picked up the pace. She used the leverage to pull herself into him, squeezing his cock deeper inside her each time.

Leaning to his ear, she sped further with shorter, quicker strokes. "Yeah, yeah, yeahhh, Henryyyy."

He gripped her tightly in return, kissing and licking along the side of the fangs lining her neck. Cameron hissed out with satisfaction, and he felt his own pleasure building inside him at her scent, at her body, at the quiet, muffled sounds that marked her own excitement.

But it was her touch -- her gentle, caring, longing touch over his body, like he was someone worth treating with a tenderness that he knew did not come naturally to the woman making him feel this way -- that's what conspired to tear down the inhibitions and anxieties that had cornered him from before he'd even walked into this room.

"Ahhhh, I want this so much," he whispered into her ear as she rose and fell on him again. "I want you so much, Cameron." He didn't care if he sounded like an idiot. He couldn't keep his desire -- his feelings -- inside.

She kissed him again, moaning into his mouth so the rest of the house wouldn't hear. He took that as her response.

"Everything about you turns me on so much," he continued.

She licked along his neck, the front of her black hair trickling onto his face.

"Ahhhh, you... you make me feel so... ahhhhhhh."

His attention was too split to try and focus on the words he wanted to say as she flexed on his trembling cock, and he fell silent for a moment -- gripping her soft skin tighter in his fingers.

"Don't stop," she said back into his ear, her whispered voice a gentle caress, kissing him again. "Tell me." Cameron sucked on his earlobe, then resumed grinding against him. He could feel her body heating, closer and closer to its goal.

His arms closed around her bare, smooth back, running along her shoulder blades. He could visualize the scene his hands were grasping, the way the wolves and stars must have been rippling with every gyration of her body against his.

Henry let go with one of his hands and shoved against the floor to help himself up -- he didn't even want to risk a straight sit-up just in case he really was as old as he kept claiming -- hoisting both of them into a sitting position. She stayed wrapped around him, sitting high on his shaft as she looked down at him, her fingers and palms skimming along his neck and face affectionately.

He could see her better now, the faint light behind her more direct on the silhouette of her petite frame. Her eyes seemed to glow all on their own, an ice blue that didn't seem icy at all -- not to him. To him, they looked so warm, so inviting. He accepted the invitation, kissing her soft, thin lips as she rocked against him.

Henry hadn't had many sexual partners -- and only one for the past 17 years, at least. Sex with Mal was never like this. Never once. On their best days, she'd made him feel like he wanted to lose control, like a rabid animal.

Cameron didn't make him feel that way. There was no manic hunger for her. Just a deep, passionate desire. He didn't feel out of control.

For the first time in he couldn't remember how long -- maybe since he was a boy -- Henry didn't feel like he was pretending to be someone he wasn't.

His tongue explored her mouth again, a hand roaming across her back and another cradling her head.

"You make me feel," he finally whispered in response, breaking off the kiss just long enough to say what he needed to say, "like I know who I am."

Cameron stopped for a moment, the ice blue glowing down at him through the embarrassing watering in his eyes while her breaths came heavily, her hand resting softly on his cheek. He was suddenly afraid he'd ruined the moment. He couldn't read her eyes. He was getting better at it, maybe even pretty good at it, but he couldn't now. Maybe because the softened steel there was peering at him in a way it never had before.

She pressed her lips to his again, clutching him tighter. Her eyes were clamped shut as she seemed to luxuriate in his taste, and she loosed an involuntary moan from deep inside her onto his tongue. But she didn't -- couldn't -- hold the kiss, panting her need into his mouth instead, then pushing him back to the floor.

The wolf's jaws on her chest rose and fell quickly, her breathing shallow as she slid along his cock, plunging it deeper inside her and riding him faster. He could tell she wasn't going to stop, and focused on trying not to make too much noise.

His arms clasped her close while she thrusted herself again and again onto his shaft. He struggled to keep the angle, but she did all the work, even as he felt her muscles clench and her fingers dig into his back, trapped between him and the mattress.

A high-pitched whine shot through her gritted teeth into his ear, and it drove him to the precipice.

"Yessss," Henry hissed into her ear in return as she struggled to keep her orgasm from overcoming her. He pulled her into him tightly. "Oh my God, Cameron, I want you so much -- please -- let it go. Cum for me."

He felt her body comply in his arms, shuddering and vibrating with a groan she tried to keep inside by biting her lip, pressing her face into his chest, breathing him in -- letting only a barely audible "Hennnnrrryyyy" escape her that vibrated through his entire body.

Hearing the name amid her ecstasy pushed him over the edge.

His hands shook and his vision blurred while his fingers scrambled against the smoothness of her back, releasing everything into her he had been holding inside himself. Henry bucked into her again, and could feel his handiwork leaking out of her as he surprised himself by unloading another warm jet inside her, raising both of them off the mattress -- before finally coming back down together in relief.

Henry held her tightly against him while they each recovered their breath with deep, quiet gasps -- in no hurry. The buzzing inside that seemed to connect them both made for a stark contrast to the stillness around them.

He loved to touch her, to feel her against his skin -- like a physical anchor that could keep him from drifting someplace he didn't want to be. Now, she was warm on top of him, nestled into his arms, and he focused on the soft sensation of her entire body touching his in the afterglow.

After a few moments, Cameron kissed him again -- as much a lick as a kiss -- all the way up his neck. No one had ever kissed him like that. Henry was aware of his strengths, and one of them was not his body. He wasn't ugly, and his physique was fine, but nobody he'd been with -- even the couple of girlfriends before Mal -- had ever really shown particular attention to his body. And especially not his wife.

But as she continued slowly down his collarbone, then back up to his chin, Cameron seemed like she was going to claim every inch of him with her lips. It made Henry feel... wanted in a way he didn't know he could -- even more than what they'd just done.

She settled for stopping at his mouth, giving him another kiss, long and lazy.

After, with a contented sigh, she raised herself off of him and slid a little to the side, leaving a leg draped across him, and tucked her head under his chin. Her fingers grazed the stubble along his jaw, anything but rushed, and turned his head to face her.

In the dim light from the window, Henry saw her usually dour face shining, the corners of her thin lips just barely upturned. Her cheeks were still a little flushed, a few familiar strands of her jet-black hair stuck to her forehead.

He wiped them to the side, feeling every bit the cliché again -- but not caring even a little. She didn't seem to, either. He'd never seen her look so beautiful, and he felt like he didn't need to tell her for her to know -- not out loud, anyway.

Her ice-blue eyes beamed back at him, like they could hear everything he didn't need to say. Her hand hadn't left his cheek.

She caressed him gently, her eyes locked to his. "I know who you are, Henry," she said in quiet answer to a question only his eyes had asked. But they weren't searching for anything anymore. They didn't have to. She'd found it. Found him.

Leaning in close again, she embraced him, kissing him with a gentleness he never would have guessed she could have the night they'd met a month ago.

Henry closed his eyes and inhaled her scent again, deeply, letting everything about her -- everything about how she made him feel -- wash over him, calming him.

"I won't let you forget," Cameron whispered, holding him in her arms. "I promise."

~~~

Thank you so much for reading (: The only thing that has been better over the past few months than writing this story has been sharing it with you all and finding out how much so many of you care about the characters. It means so much every time I hear from someone who connects with the story, and I try to respond to everyone who reaches out either in the comments or through a message.

If you enjoyed something, were surprised by something, are hoping for something, or just wanna say you can't stand reading any more --'s in every other damn paragraph (: P), please take the time to share your thoughts or rate the story. It's the only way we have as authors to know our work matters to someone, somewhere.

Not all the parts are happy, but I hope you're enjoying the journey together just the same. I know I am (:

Arcadia