Lupine Dreams Pt. 09 Ch. 28-31

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.

Very long one this time, so pace yourselves! Enjoy (:

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Chapter 28

[vibe track: nero - satisfy]

The reflection staring back at Cameron looked sharp. Not just good, but... honed. Her fauxhawk was topped with a deep indigo, and she'd used more makeup than usual, especially more eyeshadow to bring out the tiny bit of blue that colored her steely eyes.

The tight, black, V-neck crop top she had on, along with her equally tight, dark blue jeans, were probably the nicest clothes she had. Not one hole, rip, or tear. She'd even washed them.

Henry had come along last night when she did her set at Moonlight. She hadn't asked him to, but he'd wanted to, even though he clearly wasn't into the club scene whatsoever. Judging by the Spotify playlist he listened to in his car, Cameron was pretty sure he'd been more of a hipster when he was her age.

I think he had fun anyway, though. I think.

She hadn't had the time or attention to spare to really focus on him much, but when they did have the chance to dance behind the platform, she'd tried not to laugh at him -- too much, anyway. He was too self-conscious to really let his body go.

Look who's talking.

She didn't really care if he was any good at it, though -- whatever that even meant. She just liked hanging out with Henry in a place where she felt comfortable, a place where she could let herself go without worrying about how she might come off or that she might say the wrong thing.

Tonight, they were going just to dance. And Cameron had a plan to help him relax.

Originally, Cameron had hoped maybe Kendra could come along and the three of them could bond a little. She liked the idea of Kendra and Henry becoming friends. But Kendra was gone again this weekend.

When was the last time we just hung out? A month ago, probably? Maybe more?

The reflection in the mirror started to smirk at her as she thought about what a Henry and Kendra combo would be like on the dancefloor.

I need to see that someday.

While she hadn't hung out with Kendra much lately, she and Henry... well, they hadn't hung out every night this week since he'd stayed with her on her mattress... but they had most nights, usually at his place. That was the plan tonight, too. It'd become such a routine in such a short time that she didn't even need to bring a change of clothes; there were already plenty she'd left on his floor.

I wonder if that's gonna start to piss him off soon.

They definitely had different philosophies about what constituted "clean clothes." And... well, really anything with "clean" in front of it. That was something she thought might start to get on his nerves.

Cameron was... happy. So happy that she could even admit to herself that she was happy -- which... maybe was a first. But she knew, even through her limited relationship experience, that the start of things had a way of masking what might become annoyances or outright problems later on. Of course, she was usually gone by the time that stage rolled around.

But she wanted to try and head those things off as best she could. Which was why even though she'd tried to make sure she looked as good as possible tonight, the only part of her that was out of place was on her upper arm -- a nicotine patch that interrupted the top of one of her tattoos. It wasn't really supposed to go on a tattoo, but there weren't a whole lot of places on her body that weren't tattooed.

Henry hadn't ever come out and actually said he didn't like to kiss her after she'd been smoking, but she could tell from his hesitations. And when she'd asked him about it, he'd... been wishy-washy until finally admitting it. She liked kissing Henry. So he didn't have to ask her -- even if she did miss the ritual of it. The tradeoff was more than worth it.

It does not look great though.

Her phone buzzed, and she gave the mirror one more quick smile and a short, approving nod.

***

"Yo Bobo, you finally got your stool, huh?" Cameron smirked at the mountain of man sitting on a new, high-backed metal stool outside Moonlight's backdoor. He slid off of it with a smirk to match Cameron's.

"Yeah, they got tired of me complainin' I guess," he said with a shrug of his massive shoulders.

Cameron rubbed her hands together. She hadn't brought any other clothes, figuring the stifling heat of the club would keep her warm well afterward, too.

"Cold as fuck out here," Cameron said. "Gonna let us in?" She'd been DJing here since she was a teenager, and hadn't paid to get in a single time.

Bobo didn't show if he thought it was cold even in his impossibly tight shirt, seeming content to take his time while he examined Henry curiously.

"Who ya got here?" Bobo said playfully. Or as playful as Bobo could get.

Henry was holding a half-empty water bottle in one hand and the other was in the pocket of his black jeans. He always looked kinda... dad-ish, but tonight, with a dark green Henley on top, he was passing for a regular guy in his 30s, she thought. He gave a bashful smile and let Cameron answer.

"Henry," she said. "My... umm, boyfriend." She shot a quick glance back to Henry, a little nervous he might be surprised by her description. But he wasn't. He returned one of those subtle little smiles that was just for her. It made her want to smile back, but...

Not in front of Bobo. He'd never let me hear the end of it.

"Boyfriend" was enough on its own to make the bouncer's eyebrows jump up. "No kidding! Huh." He looked Henry up and down and Cameron snorted.

"What?" she said, challenging the bouncer to say whatever he was thinking out loud.

Then a look of realization washed over Bobo's face and he snapped his meaty fingers, grinning widely at the two of them.

"I know where I've seen you!" His grin got broader as he turned back to Cameron. Despite the cold, she didn't appreciate the heat in her cheeks all the same. "Lupi pickin' up strays! Who woulda thought!"

He gave Henry a friendly smack on the shoulder -- which almost sent him careening into Cameron -- and then opened the door, still grinning at them both. "Ah I'm just playin' my man -- you two kids have a good time."

As they entered the dingy back hallway, Cameron nudged her older boyfriend. "See? You're a kid. Told you you could pass for young," she said with a wink.

"Okay, Lupi." He nudged her back.

"They know me by my work, what can I say."

Heat and the smell of alcohol mixed with sweat hit them like a wall as soon as they walked in, the bass pounding in their ears already. Colored lights flashed to the beat out beyond the far end of the dim hallway. They could hear each other, but only if they got close and spoke loudly -- just below a yell.

Cameron took Henry's arm and stopped him before they went any further, alone in the corridor, and gestured for him to give her the water bottle.

After shaking it gently, even though the molly was already pretty well mixed in, she took a swig -- carefully leaving just less than half of what had been there before. Usually she'd down the whole thing herself, but she figured she wanted to err on the side of too little rather than too much for Henry's first time on MDMA.

He eyed the bottle warily as she held it out for him. They'd discussed it earlier and he'd been hesitant then, but wanted to try it. Cameron didn't want to make him feel like she was pushing him into anything, so she wasn't going to press him if he looked like he wanted to back out now.

"It'll help you relax," she reminded him, leaning into his ear so he could hear. She put her other hand on his cheek. "Trust me."

The corner of his mouth crinkled, but he couldn't hide his skepticism. Cameron was sure this would be good for him, though -- to show him what she felt, what the music did for her. And they'd be able to experience it together.

He took the bottle and his sly smile spread a bit.

"Bottoms up," he said with a shrug, and winced at the taste when he swallowed the rest.

Cameron angled in again with a subtle smile of her own, this time to kiss him. She wasn't going to let anything go wrong tonight.

***

The dancefloor was thrumming, the lights and the people rising and falling and moving and pulsing with the beat -- almost as one.

Even Henry, for the most part. He was looser, although Cameron could tell he wasn't quite in the groove yet. They hadn't been on the floor that long -- she wasn't really sure if he was even feeling the molly yet -- but he seemed more natural. The DJ was good, and the vibe was perfect for how she wanted this night to go -- uninhibited, unrestrained.

She stayed close to him, keeping constantly in contact with his body as they danced. He didn't quite seem to know what to do with her, but that was okay. He'd stop thinking and figure it out as the night went on.

As she pressed her back into him, slithering along his frame, her hand drifted from his neck to his cheek. She looked up to his face, backlit by the laser lights that strobed over and onto the crowd. But he wasn't looking back at her. He was looking across the crowded floor, barely moving.

Cameron followed his gaze to an unmissable woman in the middle of things, surrounded by a pulsating crowd who took their cues from her. The tall brunette was effortlessly classy in a gold, crocheted, cutoff top and a flowing, knee-length skirt with a slit that rose to her thigh. She seemed to have brought her own spotlight. Cameron snorted to herself.

Is Henry eye-fucking some bitch while I'm grinding into him? Wow. We'll blame that one on the drugs, I guess.

She was more amused than threatened, even as her own eyes lingered on the woman, watching as her chocolate-brown hair twirled around her, revealing her face.

Then everything seemed to grind to a halt, the music and the dancers all stuck in a muffled slow motion. She recognized the high-voltage smirk behind the hair.

Holy fucking shit.

It's Mal.

The relaxed sense of freedom Cameron had been reveling in went rigid all at once. Without looking up to his face again, she took Henry's hand and pulled him back toward the bar, finding an open space to lean against. They could hear each other if they yelled here.

"How'd she even know I was here?" Henry said into her ear. Cameron was wondering that herself. Ultimately, though, it didn't matter.

"I'll take care of it," she said. There was a tenuously restrained wildness in her boyfriend's eyes that made her want to at least try to sound like she had it all under control. She hoped she did.

Looking for a bouncer she knew, she stepped away from him and craned her neck around the room from the pit where the bar was. When she spotted one, she turned back to Henry -- only to freeze. Mal had noticed Henry, too, apparently, and was right next to them.

Mal paid Cameron no attention whatsoever, even though she was rubbing elbows with Henry.

"How'd you know I was here?" she heard Henry shout. But she couldn't see his eyes well enough from the side to know what she really needed to.

"I didn't." Mal pointed out to the dancefloor and said something about a friend. Cameron followed her finger, as if that would tell her whether one of the people in the vibrating crowd was really a friend of hers.

The music had nothing to do with how hard Cameron's heart was pounding in her chest. When she looked back, she wanted to take care of the problem in the speediest, most direct way possible: to throw it to the ground and drag it the fuck out -- just like she had that bitch on her bed. Mal being here at Moonlight felt like a violation of her personal space in exactly the same way -- invading one of the only places where Cameron could be herself without being self-conscious about who that was.

But... she couldn't stop staring at Henry's ex-wife.

No... his wife, she corrected, with not a little bit of spite.

Mal's cheeks were trending rosy, her hair somehow still immaculate even though it had been flowing around her head just a minute ago. Her outfit looked like it had come off a mannequin -- or maybe like something a mannequin would wear in a desperately inadequate attempt to imitate her instead. The electric grin she gave Henry seemed to light up the whole bar.

Cameron stole an unwilling, self-conscious glance at her own ensemble. The best clothes she owned. The ones her mirror had told her made her look good. Now... now they made her feel... childish. Like some little girl playing dress-up.

"It's so good to see you Andrew! I'm glad you're out and about!" Mal said, brushing Henry's arm with her hand. That sent a surge through Cameron, shoving the immobilizing thoughts from her head and forcing her body into motion. "Are you hitting the club solo or is Paul around here somewhere?"

Mal and Henry were standing with an inch or two between them just to be able to speak, and Henry was backing against the bar like he was trying to widen that gap however he could.

Careful not to let herself go too far, Cameron placed a firm hand on Mal's shoulder and slid a foot between Henry and his wife.

For the first time, the taller woman noticed Cameron was even there, backing away at the contact, and then taking another step back when Cameron inserted herself into the tiny space between them. The expression on Mal's face went from confused to... surprised? And embarrassed?

"Oh my god!" she shouted so Cameron could hear. "I'm so sorry!" Then her eyes got wide as she looked down at Cameron, up to Henry, and back down to Cameron again. "Oh my God is this her??? Uhh..." she looked like she was trying to place Cameron's name, "Cameron??"

Whatever Cameron was going to say, it was short-circuited. She pressed her lips tightly together and tried to keep from whipping around to Henry to ask, how the fuck does she know my name?? That wasn't the point right now. She had to stay focused.

"Hey I'm sorry," Mal continued, contritely, taking another step back to put in a little more distance while Cameron regrouped. She still had to lean in to be heard, though. "I didn't mean to crash things! You guys have a great night!"

Cameron watched the older woman glide away, her hair flowing behind her. She couldn't keep her eyes off the long, sinewy legs protruding from under that sheer, chic skirt. Cameron didn't particularly want to turn around and risk seeing if the look Henry was giving his wife was the same as when his eyes roamed her legs... but she had to check on him before she went after Mal.

Annoyance clouded her face as she turned to him -- and then quickly gave way. Henry's face was roiling in contesting emotions, all of them desperate: fear, frustration... fury. Yes, she of all people could recognize that one when she saw it, even if she'd never seen it on him before.

Have I ever seen him angry at all before?

That was all the permission Cameron needed. This was the night when nothing was supposed to go wrong.

She took his hand so he would at least remember she was even there. "I'll be right back," she said into Henry's ear.

Not waiting for a response, she strode into the throng. Mal was back where she'd been dancing before, meeting up with the friend she must've pointed out. A group of guys was already closing in around them.

As she approached, Cameron slid between them and wrapped Mal's wrist in a solid grip from behind. The blinking laser lights illuminated the surprise on her face as the bass pounded to the rhythm of Cameron's racing pulse.

"YOU GOTTA GO," Cameron shouted, though she knew no one could have heard her. Giving Mal a slightly-more-than-polite tug, Cameron led her toward the hallway where they'd come in, feeling Mal stumble along behind her. If she hadn't, Cameron wasn't sure if she would have dragged Henry's wife or not. But she was glad neither of them had to find out.

When they got outside the bathrooms, the music was muffled enough that they would be able to talk. Cameron stopped and let go of Mal's arm, turning to face her.

She was rubbing her wrist, looking at Cameron with a mix of curiosity and annoyance, but that was all. Her friend was trailing behind her, staring with more of both than Mal was.

"Who's this?" Mal's friend said.

"You gotta go," Cameron said to Mal.

Mal frowned. "Come on, Cameron, don't be like that. He can handle us being in the same building, you know."

Cameron felt the rage mounting inside her -- which she suspected was exactly what Mal wanted.

She's just trying to get to you. That's why she's saying your name, that's why she said he can handle it. Keep it under control.

The problem was... Cameron wasn't actually sure Henry could handle it. He hadn't been able to handle it that night he'd ended up blackout drunk and passed out on her mattress. But she knew she couldn't say that to Mal -- and so did Mal.

Fuck. I think I'm starting to get why they're not together anymore.

Cameron's heart would have been beating fast already without the molly. With it, she was having trouble calming down. She took a deep breath and swallowed her pride, trying to defuse the situation however she could.

"Maybe I can't handle it," she said with as straight a face as she could, glaring steadily into Mal's hazel eyes. They were flecked with a smattering of brown specks -- like somebody took an explosive shit in her brain.

"Hello?!" The friend was waving her arms at the two of them, but nobody paid her any attention; the two other women's eyes were locked on each other instead.

Mal slowly looked Cameron up and down, and her face left little doubt she agreed: She didn't think Cameron could handle it, either.

Cameron just swallowed, physically this time, hoping it would help uncoil the fists her hands had unconsciously curled into.

"Hey Kate, how about you wait for me outside?" Mal said to her friend without turning to her. Kate shrugged and rolled her eyes, but went down the hallway and out the door.

Mal's expression turned serious -- not one that was meant to provoke, but one that seemed to say they should talk. Opening the door to the bathroom, she motioned for Cameron to join her.

The last thing she wanted to do was talk with Mal... but she didn't see what choice she had.

I can go in there, or I can drag her out by her hair. And if I do that, there's no telling how Henry might... react. But it sure won't be "Yeah, let's just dance, no big deal you still have my wife's scalp in your fingernails!"

With a groan swallowed up by the muffled music, she stepped into the bathroom, which had enough activity in it that nobody was paying much attention to the two of them posted up next to the garbage can. They could hear each other much more easily now.

"Hey, I'm not trying to be shitty, okay?" Mal opened, earnestness showing in those shitty eyes. Cameron didn't believe it for a second -- though she admitted to herself that she wouldn't have believed it even if it were true. "I really didn't know you guys were here. I don't wanna get in the way. I just...." She bit her lip, then looked back into Cameron's eyes. "I still really care about him, and I don't want him to get hurt. Seriously. Not any more than I've already done on my own."

Mal paused.

"You done?" Cameron said evenly.

Mal gave a little snort and looked at her like she was some petulant child again. "I can tell he cares about you, too, Cameron. Just take it from me, okay? Be careful with him."

The muted bass thumped through her veins.

What the fuck does that mean?

When Mal moved toward the door, Cameron heard herself say, "Wait."

Mal did, turning back toward her.

Cameron had something she needed to ask -- couldn't stop herself from asking.

"How do you know who I am?"

The expression on the older woman's face shifted to pity. That was the last thing Cameron wanted to see.

"He told me," she said with a shrug. "A couple of weeks ago when we... got together... he said you... ghosted him?" She said it like she was saying something uncomfortable to a friend.

Cameron barely heard her over the rushing in her ears.

Got together?

What the fuck does that mean?

Got together?

She tried to do the math on when she'd ghosted him, where she would have been, what was going on -- but she couldn't. Her brain couldn't move past the two words, running through all their possible meanings.

"Seriously, Cameron," Mal said, putting a hand on her shoulder like they really were friends, jolting Cameron back to the present, "I mean it -- good luck. I can tell he's into you just from how he talked about you. Not to mention how he looks at you. But... piece of advice?" Wisely, she removed her hand. Cameron still didn't feel like she could speak, paralyzed and now forced to hear whatever stupid shit Mal was going to say next.

Got together?

"You gotta really try," Mal told Cameron. Henry's wife was taller by a few inches, only adding to the feeling of being patronized. But earnest regret lined her face, clouding the radiance it seemed to beam with just by default.

"It took me too long to realize that," Mal continued. "But he's worth it. He is. People like us?" She flitted her finger between them both. "We can't help it. We hurt people." She shrugged as if offering an apology for something she had no control over. "Not on purpose, but we do. Especially someone as fragile as him. Just... don't stop trying. Okay? I know I won't."

As she patted Cameron on the shoulder again, then turned to leave, that's when Cameron noticed it -- gleaming on her finger.

She's wearing her fucking wedding ring.

Whatever rage Cameron had been trying to suppress was replaced by an ice-cold chill.

Got... together?

She's wearing her wedding ring.

Got together?

The door shut in front of her.

Fuck off. Fuck off. FUCK OFF. STOP IT. MOVE, YOU DUMB BITCH!

She finally did, forcing herself to stumble forward and out the door, turning to catch Mal's smooth calf disappearing out the back exit. Cameron followed, just in time to see Mal and her friend walking out of the alley.

Bobo looked up and did a double take when he saw who was sticking her head out the door.

Cameron took a second before finding her voice -- which came out as icy as she felt. "You see that woman?" she murmured to Bobo.

"The one with the legs? Oh yeah, I see her," he said with a verbal wink.

Cameron glared at him, trying to pierce the bouncer with the icicles inside her. But she couldn't hold them in her gaze. They were in danger of shattering -- or worse, melting. That wasn't an option. Not tonight.

"Don't let her in here again."

Bobo cocked his head, glancing between the empty space where Mal had turned the corner and Cameron. "What'd she do?"

Cameron couldn't look him in the eye anymore. "She's... can you just gimme this one?" She'd never asked for anyone to be banned before, even though she would be far from the first performer to do it.

The bouncer shrugged, seeming to understand he should be treading more lightly. "Yeah, of course. What's her name?" He pulled out his phone as if to put her on some list right this second.

"Mallory... umm..." Cameron swallowed and her stomach lurched, "Mullins, I guess."

Bobo nodded, typing it in, then looked back up at her, speaking reassuringly. "Hey, don't sweat it, kid. No big deal. Go back in and have a good night, okay? Don't gotta worry about her anymore."

Cameron sighed and shook her head slowly to herself, taking her time walking back into the club. "I wish."

She could hear her heart pounding in her chest even over the beat. Neither could drown out the words Mal said to her, still echoing through her head.

Got together... ghosted him... people like us.

Cameron wasn't anything like Mal. She didn't have to know Mal to know that. She knew it just from Henry's eyes, from the way he looked at her.

Do you really think he never looked at Mal that way?

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath as she exited the dingy back hall and headed toward the bar.

The music welcomed her, wrapping her up and pouring into her head, pushing out all the echoes.

When her eyes opened again, she was looking at Henry -- glumly leaning against the bar until he spotted her beyond so many sweaty strangers. His face dissolved from the roiling stress it had been into relief, and that little smile creased into the corner of his mouth.

The beat was heavy, coursing through her, helping to propel her quickening steps until she reached him. Cameron pressed him into the bar and kissed him deeply, running her hands through his hair -- trying to leave her mark on him with her lips.

Henry was dazed, and she could feel his heartbeat almost matching hers as they broke.

"Whoa." She read his lips. He leaned in and shouted so she could hear. "Everything okay? You, umm, leave Mal alive?"

He smirked at her, and she looked into his eyes as calmly as she could. Unlike his voice, they looked shaken underneath the warm, dark brown. A crack away from breaking.

Got together. Ghosted him. People like us.

She took her turn to tilt up into his ear, shouting over the music. "Yeah. It's just you and me."

Cameron took her boyfriend's hand and led him back to the dancefloor. The lights were low, and she shut her eyes as she let the music take control, surrendering her body and mind to the beat, the bass -- the waves building, dropping, and crashing inside her as the night went on.

She didn't need her eyes to see Henry, to get lost in him, loosening him up as they focused on nothing but the music and each other.

Time slipped away against his body, jumping and screaming along with the pulsing of the crowd.

Sweat showed darker on his shirt, even in the flashing lights that made everything slow to stop-motion. Everything that had been cold inside her was melting -- burning up. Every muscle in her body tingled with stimulation, in tune. Every track built to a new bass drop and a higher high than the one before.

She thought she was taking in air by the lungful, but she was pretty sure she didn't need to breathe at all. The budding ecstasy humming inside her had replaced everything else she would need -- everything except Henry.

Cameron could tell from the glimpses of his eyes that he felt the same way. None of the self-consciousness he'd shown the night before was in him now. It was replaced by the music, moving him of its own accord.

There was nothing else. Not even the other people in the throng, and certainly no Mal. There were no dead mothers, no divorces, no anxieties about anything at all.

Just the music flowing through them both.

I wanted this for you. Even with all the shittiness, I wanted you to just get lost. Us to get lost in each other. To experience this the way I do.

She wasn't sure if she'd screamed it at him or just thought it in her head. But she was convinced Henry heard her either way.

Cameron pressed back into his body, snaking herself against him to the tempo, moaning at the exquisite feeling of his body against her. She hated how much of herself was covered in clothes, and hated even more how much of Henry was.

His hands roamed her torso as she cupped his cheek, relishing the feel of his skin as much as the embrace of the beat. They'd drifted to a corner of the floor, and even though they were still surrounded by the dancing crowd, Cameron felt like they were alone, the reverse of the spotlight that woman -- what was her name again? who cares -- had seemed to bring with her to the club earlier tonight.

She felt him reach under her crop top, unabashedly squeezing her breasts. She hadn't worn a bra. In response, she ground her hips in circles against him and could feel he was getting hard. Or maybe he'd been hard for hours.

The laser lights blinked above them in red, green, blue and back again, flashing on his cheek as she licked the sweat off. It tasted divine, just like everything else. She let out another moan as Henry pressed himself into her, playing with her nipple.

Cameron shot down his body, feeling his bulge against her back, and then her neck -- sliding up again even more slowly to savor the sensation.

In her ear, or maybe in her bones, she could hear his groans -- an extension of the music, another driving beat impelling her on.

The music wasn't coming from outside her anymore. She could feel the beat starting in her own body, louder with every thud of her blazing heart. Henry spurred her on, his fingers splayed over her small, bare midriff -- clutching tighter and tighter as he synced himself with her tempo.

She could feel his jeans struggling to contain his bulging erection now. There was no doubt about how this song would end. Cameron wanted it to. Needed to show him how she could make him feel, how she felt next to him, caught up in him -- and caught up in the pounding cadence inside her.

He was groaning, she could tell, his fingers squeezing into her, his body pressed flush to hers. It was almost time, the feeling building to a crescendo left hanging by the drop... followed by the thumping of the bass to its peak.

She turned to him as he grasped at her, bent at his knees, and she ground into him, her leg between his so she could feel him pulsing into his pants -- cumming to the rhythm of the music inside her. He was letting everything go, and she felt it all leave him -- everything that had kept him so self-conscious, so anxious, so tense, so afraid. He pawed at her body, trying to stay upright through his grunting relief. That's what she wanted to believe was happening, anyway.

And she knew she'd do the same, the sirens as the song built back up combining with his finishing spasms to force her closer to the feeling of ecstatic release she'd been chasing all night.

Grinding harder against his leg, he regained his composure and straightened it for her, letting her straddle it as she rode his thigh to his knee, quickening as the music did, dictating her pace.

Everything in her was growing to the final high, the bass building up to one last explosion. The feeling of his skin against her, the smell of his sweat in her nostrils -- the crowd jumped and bobbed as one, ready to climax with her -- and she felt herself scream along with the crowd, throwing herself back into Henry.

His hands held her up, but she wasn't interested in standing -- she desperately tried to get closer to him as she shook on his thigh, to feel as much of him against her as she could in the throes of the orgasm shuddering through her.

Cameron turned in his arms and kissed him deeply, loosing into his eager lips everything the music washing over them both did for her -- everything it calmed, heightened, and focused inside her -- sharing with Henry the part of herself that felt at home in the pounding waves of the beat the only way she knew how.

He looked back down at her, his eyes as full of light and ecstasy as her own. She could feel the humming in his body -- the same note that was buzzing in her ears.

Even high, even as her cheeks flushed from knowing she'd just orgasmed in front of God knows how many people, even as she wondered how Henry was going to cover up the mess in his pants when they left -- Cameron's thoughts were crystal clear and focused on one thing.

I won't ever be her. I promise.

Cameron wasn't sure if she'd screamed it at him or just thought it.

But she was convinced Henry heard her either way.

~~~

Chapter 29

Henry collapsed onto the bed, exhausted physically and emotionally. Cameron had told him it was the comedown from the molly. He shook his head to himself, sitting up on the edge of the bed with a faint smile remaining on his face as he peeled off his sweaty clothes, tossing them to the floor.

You know, because I took some ecstasy and then came in my pants on the dancefloor of a nightclub. A normal Saturday night.

A shower could wait until morning, even if his crusted cum was still on him. He was too spent.

The experience at Moonlight had been... well, whatever he'd thought it was going to be like, it wasn't that. He'd felt outside of himself in a way he couldn't express. It was incredible, indescribable... and probably not something he particularly wanted to do again.

Still, Henry had never felt so uninhibited, so in tune with the people around him -- especially with Cameron. Something had happened between them on that dancefloor, something more than the physical. He couldn't even begin to wrap his head around it, but he knew there was something personal about it he couldn't put his finger on, like she'd let him into a private part of her world -- one that defied words and was pure experience.

Or something.

Naked and sighing, he swung his legs into bed, enjoying the cool air after being overheated all night. Cameron was finishing stripping off her own clothes, looking just as exhausted as he felt. If he weren't so utterly drained, he would have been turned on again by the sight of her lithe body so casually exposed next to him.

She didn't have a whole lot of muscle -- there wasn't that much on her petite shape at all, really -- but what was there, he knew, was denser than it appeared. He may have been too tired to want another round, but he still admired -- appreciated -- her body, as they both slipped under the sheets.

His gaze lingered on her while she settled in. He wasn't just admiring what was on the outside.

Henry felt so guilty about how things had gone down, almost ruining their night. Cameron, though, had handled things so much better than he'd expected, and so much better than he could have -- yet again.

He'd been frozen with shock and rage -- which he supposed was better than how Mal had frozen him at the same club... wow, was that a month ago? He couldn't decide if it seemed like longer ago than that or just yesterday.

Cameron switched off her lamp -- he always made sure she had control over the last light on -- and lay there on her back, unmoving except for her steady breathing. Maybe she was too tired to do anything else, but as his eyes adjusted, Henry could see she was staring at the ceiling.

No, she has to be thinking about Mal. How could she not be?

They'd had such a great, unforgettable night... but Mal had nearly ground it to a halt before it got started. He'd done his best to ignore it, even in his own mind -- especially in his own mind -- and he supposed Cameron probably had, too.

But they could only do that for so long.

He was so pissed at his wife, though he knew it was really his own fault. Three years had passed since he'd filed for divorce, and there was no one to point the finger at, really, except himself. He'd had plenty of time to get her out of his life. Now, he was still tangled up with her, and Cameron was caught up in the web.

"Hey," he said, using that soft voice they seemed to automatically use with each other in the dark and the quiet.

She didn't answer.

He tried again, letting her know in his voice that he knew what was finally surfacing in her mind. They just had to talk about it now. "What's up?"

Cameron stayed silent for a few beats, but he could tell from her dim silhouette that she was thinking as hard as ever. She spoke quietly, without turning to him.

"When was the last time you fucked Mal," she said, as if asking the ceiling a question she didn't really want to know the answer to.

Henry winced and closed his eyes in a long blink that he wasn't sure he really wanted to end.

Mal must have told her. Shit, has she been holding onto this all night?

The fact that she knew he'd had sex with his wife only a couple of weeks ago didn't scare him on its own. He was embarrassed about what he'd done with Mal, yes, but only because of what it said about how naïve and lonely he'd been. He trusted Cameron to see those sides of him without seeing the same pathetic person he saw in his own mind's eye.

No, what concerned him most was that Mal had told her anything about them at all. Why? Was she trying to drive a wedge between him and Cameron? He didn't think she was the type, but....

What else did Mal tell her?

Henry took a deep breath and decided he would just tell Cameron everything. That was the only way to make sure she knew he trusted her -- even with the parts of himself he was most ashamed of. Especially the parts of himself he was most ashamed of. He sure as hell didn't trust himself with them.

He reached for her hand under the sheets, closing his fingers around hers. She didn't return the gesture, but didn't take her hand away, either.

"Cameron," he said, hoping she'd turn to look at him. They always said so much to each other through their eyes. He felt like he could only tell half the story without them. Reluctantly, she slowly dragged her head over to face him.

Once he saw her eyes, almost gray in the darkness, he could tell immediately why she was reluctant to meet his gaze.

She doesn't even want to know, but it's driving her crazy.

He squeezed her hand and felt even guiltier inside. They'd still had what he would think of as a special night together, but the whole time she'd been bottling this up. Somehow, he was sure that wasn't the only time she'd lost herself completely in the music when something more serious was plaguing her thoughts. Even more of who the woman next to him was fell into place.

"It was... a couple of weeks ago," he began. He didn't want to say exactly which night, even as he exhorted himself to be as honest as he could. He tried to meet Cameron's stare while he said the words. But he couldn't. "I don't know what she told you, but it was... a huge mistake. It reminded me of all the reasons we aren't together anymore -- and why it's good we're not."

Cameron's eyes searched his intensely, narrowing just a fraction. Maybe she was trying to figure out if he was telling the truth. Maybe she was doing the math on how far along the two of them had been in their confusing relationship a couple of weeks ago.

She pulled the sheets up a little further over her neck, the rest of her body still square with the ceiling as she looked at him for a long time in silence.

"What... happened between you two?" she finally said, her lips forming each word deliberately. Another question her eyes said it hurt to ask. Her hand hadn't budged in his.

Henry's focus drifted away from her, unable to look at Cameron while he let the memories come back to him, all the moments and feelings he'd worked so hard to bury over the years. He hadn't spoken them out loud since he told Paul and Heather a few years ago, just after he'd spilled everything to his sister. But he knew he wanted Cameron to know -- that if they were going to move forward from tonight, she needed to know.

He told himself Cameron wouldn't look at him any differently. She already knew the broad contours, probably, just from who he was and how he acted. Maybe she even thought it was something worse than what it actually was. Honestly, that thought frightened Henry more than any other.

She's gonna say, "That's it?" That's why you're such a fucking pussy?

The gentle feeling of her hand tightening around his brought him back to what he needed to do, and he took another deep breath.

"It... wasn't just one thing. Everything was great for a long time. I don't know when I can say things started to change. It didn't happen overnight." He sighed again. Cameron still held his hand, patiently letting him gather his thoughts together. "But maybe... I don't know, five, or six, or maybe seven years in, she just... started asking me to do things... in bed... that I wasn't... super comfortable with."

Save for the steady murmur of the central heat, his low voice was the only sound in the room, allowing Henry to hate how every word out of his mouth sounded -- so shallow, so inconsequential compared to how actually living through what they were describing had made him feel at the time. He didn't dare look over to see Cameron's expression.

"She... wanted me to be rougher," he continued, watching in his head the movie he was commentating. "To... hit her." He swallowed. "Choke her. Things like that."

He flicked his eyes to Cameron's, succumbing to the need to know what they were saying.

They weren't saying much. Maybe she was thinking, "That's it?" But her delicate hand squeezed his tighter under the covers anyhow. He swallowed again and kept going.

"Then... if I didn't do what she wanted -- or... or even if I did -- she'd...." He couldn't look at Cameron anymore. He was so embarrassed and ashamed at how stupid it was going to sound out loud.

My wife called me names. And that hurt. Because I'm 5 years old.

He slipped his hand out from Cameron's grasp and ran his palms over his face, turning to speak to the ceiling, too. The heater kicked off, leaving an eerie quiet in place of the hypnotic hum. When he spoke again, it was even more softly.

"She would tell me how pathetic I was, how I wasn't good enough for her. How lucky I was I even got to... to fuck her. She'd say afterwards it was just dirty talk, that she didn't mean it." He felt a tear roll down the side of his cheek even though he was doing his best to disassociate, to just say what happened as evenly as he could without acknowledging that it had happened to him. "It was... every time. For years. I didn't want to have sex anymore. Every night we went to bed, I was afraid she'd want to.

"And every time, she pushed it further. Told me she'd... she'd go find a... a real man to fuck her if I didn't do what she said."

He managed to get the words out without fully reliving those nights, which was a first. This time he felt Cameron's hand take his from his chest, feeling he had more to say, though he wasn't ready to say it to her face. Not when the ceiling was being such a good listener.

"And... and then she really did." His voice cracked as he swallowed back tears. In a way, he was almost surprised he even had any left to shed over this. "A lot of them, I think. For... for years."

Cameron's other arm slid over his chest, looping to his far cheek. Her hand softly caressed his cheek and he let himself press against her fingers, feeling the warmth in them even though they were a little cool.

She turned his face to her, so she could see his eyes. He tried to keep them steady.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding -- in her gaze, Henry saw she still cared about him. There was no "That's it?"

Alongside it, though, he could see, too, that she hadn't forgotten the first question she'd asked -- and the answer that Mal had been here only a couple of weeks before.

But she hugged him, pulling him onto his side and into her embrace. Everything else could wait.

Cameron didn't say anything, just pressed him close and clutched his head to her shoulder.

There weren't any more tears coming, even as he involuntarily watched too many nights that didn't happen replaying on his eyelids. Deep down, the dark pit he'd done his best to bury was still there -- he could feel it, always threatening to remind him of the utter emptiness of his inadequacy, how pathetic and weak and completely unwilling he'd been to notice how far down he was until he'd already been swallowed up by the yawning maw inside himself that he was desperately afraid was more him than "Henry," "Andrew," or anything else.

It was that gaping hole that would never let him forget the person who knew him best -- who saw him when no one else had -- found so little in him worth caring about. Or worth caring for.

And at the very bottom of that pit, ever lurking, waiting for its opportunity to reemerge, he'd buried the harshest, most obvious truth: As eager as he always was, he had nothing worth offering in return. Not to Mal, and... well, he'd been too petrified of finishing that thought for the past three years to find out if it really ended the way the vacuum inside him whispered it would.

But even as Cameron gently raked her fingers through his hair, he still feared he knew the answer all too well.

A tear did finally fall from his eye as he wrapped his arms around Cameron's slender body, and she held him, both of them naked in the silence.

"How..." she began after they separated, her voice as soft and low as he'd ever heard it -- but she trailed off, her eyes unwilling to meet his. He understood that. It would be an uncomfortable question to ask. So he finished it for her.

"How did I end up sleeping with her again a couple of weeks ago?" he said quietly, wiping his eye.

She nodded, relieved he'd filled in the blanks, but braced for the answer.

He understood that even more. He was more ashamed of that than he was about telling her what led to his divorce.

"Cameron... you -- I didn't know if I was going to see you again," he said, trying to preemptively explain.

She nodded, the steely wall covering her eyes suddenly impenetrable to him. He took another deep breath, gathering himself before continuing. But there was no easy way to say it.

"The day, umm -- the last day we saw each other--"

"The day I ghosted you," she interjected, her voice as steely as the wall she'd put up.

"Y-yeah."

A pained look washed over Cameron's face for a fraction of a second -- then the wall crumbled, and all sorts of emotions took their turn among the mix, roiling in and out. He squeezed her hand.

"She... dropped by that night," he continued, pausing before getting it over with. "And we kind of... reconnected."

Cameron ran a hand through her hair, her jaw clenched at the ceiling again, then returned to him.

"And that's... that's when you told her about me?" she said, her words sharper, louder now than anything they'd said before, almost a normal speaking voice. "Why the fuck did you say anything about me at all?"

She was pissed off, that much he could figure out, though he wasn't actually sure why it mattered so much if he'd talked about her. He shrugged his one available shoulder as he lay on his side next to her.

"She asked me if I was seeing anyone and I...." He wasn't sure how to respond. If he said, and I was just sitting around all night, waiting and hoping you'd text me, would that just make her feel worse? "I-I said...'maybe. Maybe this cool chick named Cameron who's way outta my league.'"

Henry was hoping to get a smirk or something from her, just anything to cut the tension a little bit. But she pulled her hand away from his, wiping any beginnings of a smile from his own face.

Shit.

When he didn't continue, Cameron turned to him, her eyes as sharp as her voice had been. "And you fucked her that night? The day we woke up here together?" She seemed to look at the sheets as if Mal were lurking underneath them somewhere.

But he shook his head. Mal had come over that night and they'd reconnected over burgers... and kissed. Over the next week they'd texted, gotten reacquainted until...

"No, she... came back the next weekend."

He knew that wouldn't make much of a difference -- and it didn't. Cameron's face was frozen in an expression that would've been more at home on her the first couple of times they'd been in this bed.

Before that morning.

That hurt him. And he knew it was showing. That morning had meant so much to him, too.

But she's the one who ran out! I didn't think I was ever gonna see her again! She can't really be mad at me for that, can she?

He felt ashamed either way. Whether she was or wasn't, he was mad at himself. Neither of them would be able to think about the way the sun had poured in across Cameron's face that morning, smiling at him, without thinking of what happened later -- of Mal.

Fuck you, Mallory. Fuck you. Goddammit you fucking cunt. And fuck you, Henry. Andrew. Fucking Marvin. Whoever the fuck you are. Fuck you, too, for being so fucking eager to fall right back into your hole of comfortable fucking despair.

Cameron was quiet, staring at him, her face hardened. Or maybe she was staring through him. Finally, she closed her eyes in a long blink, then focused back on him, her voice quiet again.

"And she... made you do... things again?"

He hesitated. "She... never made me do anything. She... I don't know... convinced me I wanted to."

Why did he even feel like he had to make that distinction? He shook his head, just getting to the answer.

"But... yeah. She... she seemed like she'd really changed." It was like he was pleading with Cameron now to believe that he wasn't some pawn in somebody else's game, that he really had had agency -- he'd just been too stupid to use it wisely. "She sounded like she understood what went wrong with us, and she... said she wanted to try again. And..." he swallowed. Her gaze was unchanged. "... one thing led to another and I was... right back in the same shit. Doing whatever she wanted."

Slowly, Henry reached for Cameron's hand again. She didn't pull it away, keeping unblinking eye contact.

"I'm sorry Cameron," he said, letting go of another tear he couldn't stop. "I wish it hadn't happened. For so many reasons. But we... we weren't... we weren't really anything yet. I didn't even know--"

"I didn't text you back," she cut in -- and to the chase. She was forming another word, but stopped. By the straining in her eyes and the quick blinks that came after, Henry was pretty confident he knew what she'd been about to say next.

... so you fucked Mal instead.

She pulled her hand away again and turned over to the other side of the bed, bunching the sheets around her as she scooted to the edge.

"Cameron," he pleaded to her back, even more quietly. She didn't move, and he felt his stomach plummet. The heater whirred into action again.

What was I supposed to do? I barely knew you!

He sighed and slumped onto his back.

Fuck you again, Mallory. Fuck you for all of this. Fuck you for everything.

But he knew it wasn't Mal's fault. Mal was who she was. He was the one who'd invited her in -- again -- and he was the one who'd still believed he was in love with her, who believed she was sincere, who did whatever she asked.

He turned his head silently to Cameron again, not even trying to stop a couple more tears. She hadn't moved an inch. He hadn't expected her to.

Are you disgusted with me? Wondering what you're doing with someone who would let himself be treated like that for so long? And then... is so fucking stupid and pathetic and fragile that he fucking does it again just for old times' sake?

He sighed, one more tear rolling down his cheek.

Join the club, then.

They'd never slept this far apart in the same bed. Even when she'd been more uncomfortable with his touch and with showing her affection, she always liked to sleep where she could feel him next to her.

He shook his head slowly and turned his back to her, shutting his damp eyes.

Will you still be there in the morning? And if you are... will you still look at me the same way?

Henry huddled into himself, naked under the sheets. He fell into an uneasy, exhausted sleep -- even as he felt the pit deep inside himself stirring awake.

~~~

Chapter 30

[vibe track: trampoline stripped - shaed]

Cameron tried to keep the solitary tear she felt welling up in her eye from falling. The best she could do was make sure it fell to the floor instead of the sheets, leaning forward just enough.

After it darkened the carpet, her eyes flicked instinctively up to that stupid fucking mirror.

I'm turning that fucking thing around in the morning.

Nothing in particular stared back at her. Just an idiot trying to figure out how to get past her latest colossal bit of self-sabotage.

Does it count as a new fuckup if I'm just finding out about it now, but I already did it a while ago?

She wasn't sure whether that tear on the carpet was from self-pity or self-loathing. She kept oscillating between the two, spreading the stench around her brain like the shitty fan back in her shitty apartment.

Both were inevitably replaced by shame, because none of this was really about her -- yet, here she was, making it all about her again.

Cameron knew it must've taken a lot for Henry to tell her what he told her.

If I ever see that bitch again, I'm gonna--

What? Beat the shit out of her? Kill her? Yeah, that'd make you feel better, wouldn't it. Making it all about you again.

A lot about Henry had come together for her after he'd said what Mallory put him through. She couldn't understand why he'd stayed with her so long... but she did understand loyalty. Still, there was a line.

Cameron closed her eyes, trying again to fall asleep, but the same images were there waiting for her, as if on pause. They played again, Mal dancing across the crowded floor, carrying herself as effortlessly and elegantly as she was dressed.

She's fucking everywhere. At the fucking club, in his fucking wallet, in his fucking drawers, on his fucking Netflix account -- in my goddamn fucking head. Everywhere I go, there's fucking Mal.

She couldn't help comparing herself to his ex--no, she reminded herself again, his wife. How could she not?

Does Henry? How could he not?

Another tear dropped.

Does he smile at her the same way he smiles at me?

She knew the thought was absurd. Of course he did. She'd even seen that in the photo in his wallet. Her brain tried to tell her that was just the way he smiled. It wasn't any more for Mal or Cameron than it was for anybody else. But....

Did he... did he fuck her on my side of the bed? Did they laugh together about the sad, pathetic girl who finally gave him a blowjob before running away from her bowl of Cheerios?

Cameron sighed again. She didn't know how long she'd been letting her thoughts race in circles round and round in her head. Hours, probably.

It was all a distraction, she knew. None of that shit was what really bothered her.

All night, since he'd told her when he'd hooked up with Mal, there was one thought she'd tried not to complete. Instead, she'd let every other little thing bubble up to the surface in its place, no matter how ridiculous.

But she couldn't avoid it any longer.

I didn't text you back... and if I had, you never would have had to go through that shit again. But I was too fucking scared, too fucking selfish, too fucking up my own ass. And so Mal showed up at your door, and you got another night that didn't happen. Thanks to me.

She felt a shiver shake through her body, trying to turn into a sob, and she squashed it, wiping another errant tear from her eye.

Sure, it hurt that Henry was fucking another woman while she'd been bottoming out. She couldn't reproduce the feeling that began that night alone at Moonlight, but the echoes of that pit in her stomach -- the utter, unanchored emptiness -- reverberated through her at the memory.

And he'd been hanging out with Mal.

Over the next week, Cameron had continued her descent that eventually landed her in the hospital.

And he'd been fucking Mal.

Of course that hurt her. But she knew it was her own fault. Henry had said it, and she'd felt the same way at the time -- how was he even supposed to know he was going to see her again? She certainly hadn't intended to. They were no one to each other then. Just a couple of ships in the night who hated what they saw in the mirror and needed some nonjudgmental company.

So... maybe... maybe it all worked out for the best? Because... I mean... I ended up here, right?

She scoffed inside, knowing that was a stretch, even for 4 a. m. coping.

Yeah. Tell that to Henry.

No, she'd never forgive herself for making him go through so much unnecessary pain and humiliation -- all because she'd been too anxious, too fragile. The disgust Cameron felt for herself went far beyond her latest fuckup.

Slowly, quietly, she turned her body to look at Henry. She hadn't even been able to bear the shame of looking at him until now. He was huddled up at the other edge of the bed, his breathing steady, rhythmic.

Even when I'm trying, I'm still just shooting myself in the foot, still having to fucking deal with the consequences of mistakes I already made.

If they were just consequences for her, fine. But she'd hurt Henry in a way she never could have predicted or even imagined at the time. Maybe that meant it wasn't really her fault.

More likely it just means....

She shuddered, even though she was warm, tucked into the soft, clean sheets.

People like us. Right, Mal?

Cameron dismissed a final tear from her eye. Watching Henry sleeping alone, exhausted from the evening she'd demanded they have and then from everything she'd forced him to relive afterwards, she was determined it was going to be the last tear she shed over this.

I'm not gonna be like that, Mal. Sorry about it. I'm gonna be bett--

Her breath caught, losing all the resolve she was building inside as she heard herself repeat that thought for... how many times have you thought the same thing now, huh? Do you really still believe it? Are you ever actually gonna be better, Cameron?

She sat with that in silence for a few moments.

What's the alternative -- to stop even trying?

As Cameron's eyes lingered on her boyfriend -- that's what you decided on your own, without asking him, remember? -- she slid across the bed, closer to him. She didn't know for sure if he was mad at her, or just thought she was mad at him. Maybe both, maybe neither. She'd been too absorbed in processing the consequences of her own fuckup to really focus on what he needed right now, instead of what she hadn't given him in the past.

That just made her feel even more ashamed.

How fucking self-absorbed do I have to be to get lost in my own shit after what he went through telling me all his shit?

She didn't know if he'd even want to wake up with her arm around him.

Well, if he doesn't, he can shake it off then.

Cameron gingerly slipped her hand over him from behind, pulling herself against his body. They were both naked, dirty -- sweat and other fluids caked to them. And she was very aware both of them absolutely smelled like it, too. She didn't care.

With her arm draped over his bare chest, she kissed his neck softly, careful not to wake him, then rested her forehead where her lips had been.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, barely letting the words make any noise at all as they passed her lips. "I'm such a selfish piece of shit."

She felt his warmth against her head, the familiarity of his body curved into hers.

Everything was always about her. Cameron knew that. Their whole relationship had been about her so far.

His friend pops in? Boom, run out the door 'til the focus is on you again. Fuck you, no kisses goodbye -- now come meet Gram. Hey let's go dancing, I don't really care if that's something you're into. Also here's some drugs, just swallow it. Hey tell me about your deepest, darkest secrets -- oh fuck you, I'm gonna go pout and leave you to sleep alone while you relive all that.

She swore to herself it hadn't been on purpose. Maybe she was even being a little dramatic. He'd done it all without protest, after all.

Her forehead pressed into the softness of his neck and she closed her eyes. But Mal was still there, Henry's words about her still echoing through her brain.

"She never made me do anything. She... convinced me I wanted to."

Cameron squeezed her eyes even tighter, trying to will fresh thoughts into Henry's sleeping mind.

Maybe I am just like Mal. But it's not gonna take me as long to realize you're worth it.

"I don't know if I'm ever gonna get it right, Henry," she whispered to him while he slept, pulling him closer to her in the night. She knew he couldn't hear her, but she needed to say it out loud. To make it real. To bind herself to a pledge she'd never wanted so badly to keep.

Kissing him tenderly one more time, Cameron nestled her head into his neck.

"But I promise -- I'm not gonna stop trying."

~~~

Chapter 31

[vibe track: be your love west coast massive remix - bishop briggs]

Cameron blinked awake, hoping to feel Henry still in her arms. But they were empty.

It wasn't unusual for him to be gone when she woke up. Of course, usually it was a school day, not a Sunday. She was hoping he would still be there so she could apologize, could tell him to his face that she was sorry for being so childish... again.

With a sigh, she rolled over to her nightstand and checked her phone. It was a little after 9. Too early for her, but sleeping in for Henry. So not that weird he wasn't there. Still... she hoped he hadn't been upset to wake up in her arms. Or too upset that he hadn't fallen asleep in them.

It was a little unusual for Da Vinci not to have sauntered in and taken up residence either in the warm spot vacated by Henry or on the pillow, doing his best to suffocate Cameron. Her eyes flicked to the closed door. That was unusual too.

She heaved another sigh, then slowly swung herself out of bed, yawning into a stretch that would have made Da Vinci proud. Or envious.

Probably envious. I don't think cats get proud of somebody else.

The dim light outside those familiarly ugly beige curtains said it was a cloudy, lazy Sunday morning. That suited Cameron just fine.

Maybe we can watch a shitty movie. If he even wants to be around me anymore. He can pick it, though. Because, you know, that'll totally make up for... everything.

She poked through the small, untidy pile of her leftover clothes against the wall, nearest her side of the bed, and grabbed the least dirty combination of the gray tanktops and matching panties there.

Is that all I wear?

Her eyes drifted across the dresser, lingering on the drawer she knew was full of framed memories.

I wonder if Mal left any clothes behind. Not that they would fit me.

Come to think of it, she wasn't actually sure Mal had ever lived here. Did they live in this house? Another thing she didn't know -- and didn't really want to.

Catching sight of her own legs in that damn mirror as she slipped on some socks with only a couple of small holes, she couldn't help but think of Mallory's legs -- an unwelcome comparison, she thought.

The rest of her wasn't much more impressive. Her hair was crusted with dry sweat and matted from the pillow where it wasn't sticking in all directions. She patted it down a little but could only do so much. The eyes looking back at her were still red with sleep, dehydration, and maybe the leftovers of last night's dried tears.

After a few moments, Cameron turned the mirror around, shaking her head. She couldn't get stuck in a Mal trap and a self-loathing spiral before the morning even hit double digits.

Enough of that fucking thing.

She decided against sweatpants, even though it was always a little chillier in Henry's place than it was at her stuffy apartment. Her legs might not look good to her, but she knew Henry had a differing opinion. And she figured she'd take all the help she could get this morning.

In the hallway, she yawned again, rubbing her eyes with her palms as she stepped out into the kitchen.

And stiffened when she heard a woman's voice -- then heard the woman's voice abruptly stop.

Mal?

Her heart skipped a beat and her hands shot down from her face so she could see.

No. It wasn't Mal. Of course it wasn't Mal. She felt ridiculous for even thinking it, and implored her heart to stop beating so damn fast, hoping the wild look in her scratchy eyes didn't betray what she'd been fearing.

The woman sitting at the kitchen table, one hand on Henry's and another around a coffee mug, was tall -- even seated, Cameron could tell that. She was older, thin, and had short, dark brown hair that was longer than Cameron's around the sides but shorter on top with a distinguished-looking streak of white in front. The majority of her hair and her eyes matched her billowing, dark brown blouse.

She looked vaguely familiar, but Cameron couldn't quite place her -- especially not when she was shocked to find anyone waiting in the kitchen besides Henry.

Frozen in mid-sentence, the woman appeared as shocked to see Cameron as Cameron was to see her.

Henry turned around in his chair and blushed a little bit when he saw Cameron, getting up to greet her. His hair was sticking out like he hadn't showered yet and he was wearing a worn-looking T-shirt and sweatpants.

Reflexively, that little smile was forming at the corner of his mouth as he approached her, but it stopped in its tracks -- like he was unsure of whether it would be welcomed. Cameron, though, couldn't imagine a time when she wouldn't want to see that smile -- for me.

Henry cleared his throat awkwardly as the woman picked up her chin and readjusted into a bit of an astonished grin.

"Brooke," Henry said, looking at the woman, then turning to Cameron, "this is... umm, my girlfriend, Cameron." He gestured to Brooke. "Cameron, this is my much older sister, Brooke." He gave a weak smile, still not sure how in the mood Cameron would be for little jokes, she figured.

At least I'm still his girlfriend.

Brooke's eyes only got wider and her chin almost dropped again.

The nose was different -- a lot of the face, really. But her eyes. She could see Henry in there all right. Now that she knew, it was hard to miss, even from a distance.

Cameron gave a small one-motion wave, still squinting a little at the light. "Hey," she said, morning still dripping from her voice.

Brooke was much more enthusiastic with her "Hi!" She was grinning ear-to-ear while she looked Cameron over.

"Sorry," Henry mumbled, close to Cameron now. Cameron turned her eyes to him. "I didn't know she was coming 'til she was already on her way." He shrugged.

Brooke piped up from the table. "Well somebody didn't tell me there was anything I might interrupt!" She took another sip of her coffee while Henry seemed to awkwardly gauge Cameron's mood.

Unfrozen, she didn't really want to think about the surprise visitor right now. One thing at a time -- and there was a higher priority.

She closed the little remaining distance between her and Henry and took his face in her hands softly, looking into his deep brown eyes. A few tiny red veins showed he hadn't had any better sleep than Cameron had.

I'm sorry.

His cheeks got a little redder, probably from having such an intimate moment in front of his sister. Cameron didn't really care. Her forehead made contact with his as she leaned in, their eyes still locked on one another's. Then she hugged him tightly, pulling him close, and rested her head on the shoulder his sister couldn't see. Or at least Cameron hoped she couldn't.

"I was an idiot," she whispered out loud, hopefully quietly enough that only he could hear. She was sure he knew what she'd meant without speaking the words, but she wanted to anyway. Cameron cradled his head, reaching up to the back of his neck. She felt his hand caressing her back in return. She hoped that meant he hadn't given up on her.

Yet, anyway.

"I'm sorry, Cameron," she heard him say in a whispered murmur to her back. "I was... I was just so... weak when she showed up that night."

How could he possibly think he has anything to apologize for?

Cameron pushed the fresh guilt churning inside her aside as best she could. That wouldn't help anything. She could only... be better... going forward. Both of them.

"You're not weak," she whispered as quietly as she could, her lips touching his ear to make sure he heard. She pulled him closer and tried not to peer around him to his sister. "We're not."

She felt him squeeze her tighter, like he was willing it to be true.

After another beat, they finally parted. It was still before either of them wanted to, but way past what was polite with company. Their hands fell naturally together, their fingers intertwining comfortably while Henry turned to face his sister.

The little smile was back on his face and Cameron let the corner of her mouth twitch up at it.

His sister was still sipping patiently, as if she hadn't just witnessed the awkwardly long, intimate morning greeting. Cameron appreciated that.

Maybe it's a family trait to ignore awkward shit I do.

Brooke cleared her throat. "So... I really, really want to discuss, you know, THAT," she said, pointing to the two of them with a grin, "but... we should probably get through this first." She held up a few papers.

She must be the lawyer sister. So....

Cameron wilted a little, trying not to let Henry notice.

So must be about Mal. She sighed inside. Can't fucking escape her.

Henry looked to her and gave her hand a little squeeze before speaking to his sister. "It's okay, Cameron should probably hear it from you anyway instead of just getting it secondhand from me."

The smile on Brooke's face strained a little as she looked to Cameron, but she shrugged and it faded away without another comment. Cameron snuck a glance down at herself -- the tattoos on her arms, chest, and legs covered only a little by the wrinkled tanktop and comfortable panties. And she couldn't even see the mess from the neck up.

Is she thinking, "What the fuck is my brother doing with a girl like her?"... Fuck. Pants probably would have been a good choice.

It was too late now though.

As she took a seat next to Henry, scooting the chair closer to him across from his sister, Cameron's eyes glanced over the calendar on the wall -- just scenery -- until snapping back.

Oh shit that's her family. Okay.

She was doing her best to be more attentive, to file away more details about Henry's life.

Mal was just half the discomfort. Cameron was only 23. She had no idea how a divorce worked, much less what Henry must've been feeling. She folded her leg up onto her chair, planting her foot on it and resting her chin on her knee, wrapping an arm around herself.

"So you know I was ready to sign the divorce agreement?" Henry said to her. He sounded gentle and apologetic, and his eyes told her that he was well aware this was the worst possible subject to start with this morning -- especially as a surprise. But she understood.

Mal is a part of his life, whether he wants it or not, and that means Mal is a part of my life -- whether I want it or not.

Cameron nodded and Henry continued.

"Yeah... well... Mal doesn't want to sign them," he said with a sigh. She caught his eyes losing their shape for just a fraction of a second as he turned to Brooke and then back down to his coffee.

He's struggling.

Cameron took his hand again under the table, resting on his thigh, but he didn't look up. She gently wiggled her fingers and he brought his eyes up to hers, a rueful half-smile on his face. Cameron blinked at him, long and slow. He seemed to understand. He had nothing to be sorry for.

Henry squeezed her hand back and they both turned to Brooke, who was observing them curiously.

It was Cameron who spoke this time. Her body was still trying to wake up, though, and she sounded like it.

"Why did she change her mind? I thought this was... approved, or whatever, like, six months ago?"

Brooke's eyes quickly flicked to Henry. When they returned to Cameron, they didn't come back to her eyes, they landed on the wolf's jaws on her neck first, then up. Yes, Brooke's eyes definitely reminded her of Henry's up close. But they didn't... quite speak the same language.

Like... knowing a few words in Italian if I know Spanish. I guess. Fuck, I dunno, I don't know either of those.

"Yeah," Brooke said with a sigh. "I was just getting to that part." She looked at her brother one more time and Cameron felt him give a small nod out of the corner of her vision. Brooke didn't make any other expressions, though she'd stopped smiling. She seemed a little uncomfortable, but Cameron didn't think it was because of her specifically. "Well... Mallory is going to contest the divorce. Her attorney emailed me yesterday."

Cameron wasn't sure what that meant, but she felt Henry deflate next to her. Her eyes bounced between the brother and sister. She didn't want to look like an idiot, but it was better to just ask now instead of get more lost.

"What... what's that mean?" she said, her chin still on her knee. Her voice sounded small, not confident with the subject matter or the company.

Brooke waggled her head from side to side and pressed her lips together before answering. "Well, it means things are gonna take longer." She directed her answer to the both of them, then looked to Cameron.

"I don't know how much detail Andrew went into --" Cameron's eyebrows scrunched together for a second until she remembered who Andrew was -- "but, before this, it was just both sides' attorneys working on an agreement on how to divide up the assets." She held up the papers again.

"Now, Mallory wants everything. Or that's what they're starting with, anyway." Brooke focused on Henry, sympathy on her face. "They can drag this out for... well, for quite a while if they really want to."

Cameron knew that was bad news, but for the moment she was more preoccupied with what she was supposed to call Henry.

Am I supposed to call him Andrew in front of other people? We never addressed that. Fuck. I'll just... avoid his name, I guess. "This guy over here."

"Why is she doing this?" Henry said to his sister. He didn't sound desperate, exactly, more... frustrated.

Brooke looked even more uncomfortable now and took a deep breath before answering. "Well... she... does have an offer that might end things quicker. She'll sign this deal... if you agree to a year of marriage counseling with her--"

Henry yanked his hand out from under Cameron's to throw his into the air. "What??"

Brooke continued calmly. "And if at the end, you still want the divorce, you get it. She'd sign the papers now effective after you complete a year's worth of counseling sessions, and then you could decide whether you want to go through with it."

Henry was seething. It didn't take much fluency in any language to tell that. Cameron wasn't sure she'd ever seen him so frustrated before. Or frustrated at all, really, not before last night at the club, anyway.

He crossed his arms and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, then uncrossed them and tilted forward again, apparently unable to make up his mind where he wanted to direct his anger.

"Why is she doing this?" he repeated. Now he did sound more desperate, pleading with his sister. Cameron was afraid she was the one who knew the answer, though.

"Is it because of me," she said quietly, angling her head to face Brooke. She wasn't sure she really wanted confirmation.

Brooke cocked her head, her eyes seeming even more like Henry's as they softened in understanding.

"Oh, no, Cameron, it's not you -- I promise," she said. "California's a no-fault divorce state. Andrew could shack up with a whole harem and it wouldn't make a difference. Well, I guess she'd probably want them in the settlement too, but..." she looked at Cameron and winced. "Err, bad joke, sorry."

Cameron switched sides of her chin on her knee to face Henry, who was looking back at her already with a corner-smile.

"He better not," Cameron mumbled, the sly ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of her own lips. Brooke snorted, probably relieved Cameron took the joke in stride.

Henry reached across under the table to hold Cameron's hand, dangling both between them, and they looked at each other. He was asking her something, she could tell. She narrowed her eyes, trying to decode it.

Why is she doing this? Fuck if I know. Coulda asked her last ni--oh. She knew what he was asking now, and she gave a tiny nod of assent.

"We... saw her last night," Henry said, turning to his sister. "She just showed up at the club we were at."

Brooke looked alarmed, searching her brother's face.

I bet she can read him better than I can.

Fuck. Don't start comparing yourself to his sister now, too. Stick to feeling inadequate stacked against only one of the tall, smart, worldly women who love this guy at a time, okay?

"Did she say anything?" Brooke asked cautiously.

Henry nodded. "She, umm, chatted with Cameron for a little bit."

Expectantly, Brooke turned to her now, examining again the quiet, tattooed girl who who'd emerged half-dressed from her brother's bed.

She's probably imagining me going toe-to-toe with Mal. I hope I'm winning.

"Yeah," Cameron started. "She, umm, she told me some... stuff. But she definitely made it clear she's... she's not done with... you," she said, catching herself from saying "Henry" and addressing him directly instead.

She tried not to let her expression change. Henry's did, though. He looked concerned, and she realized he hadn't known about that part before. She hadn't told him.

"Okay," Brooke said, trying to process, thinking as she sipped her coffee silently. She swallowed completely before speaking again. "Well, we don't need to psychoanalyze. Look, the point is, Andrew, this doesn't really change anything for you, okay? You keep living your life --" she gestured to Cameron -- "and you don't ever have to see her. If she shows up somewhere where you are again -- well, we'll do something about that if it happens. Okay?"

Henry nodded solemnly and sighed, resigned. "I just thought I was getting out of this, you know?"

Brooke looked like she wanted to reach a hand of her own over to her brother, but there was nothing to grab on the table.

Cameron could see his deep brown eyes were submerged in disappointment and frustration. She readjusted the hand holding his, interlocking their fingers tightly, and gave it a squeeze.

Fuck Mal. Nothing changes. You're not weak. We're not. We'll deal with it.

The two of them held the other's gaze for a beat or two longer than was probably appropriate, and Cameron felt Brooke's eyes pinging between them questioningly.

Henry heaved a deep sigh and let a little bit of a smile form as he turned back to his sister.

"Welp," he said more cheerily, with a shrug to match. "Can I make you ladies some breakfast?"

Brooke grinned smugly. "Well, well, well," she said to Cameron, "I need to come over more often when you're here. What a gentleman my little brother turns into!"

Cameron angled her head at Henry and let a little bit of a smile show through, making him grin wider as he released her hand and stood up.

"Hey now, don't get too excited," he said playfully. "I just meant, like, you know, cereal or a Pop-Tart or something."

Brooke frowned. "Dare I ask... do you have any... fruit?" Cameron didn't turn, but read Henry's response from his sister's ensuing eyeroll. She shook her head at Cameron as if she should've known better than to even ask. Cameron didn't really react -- she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten a fruit, honestly. But Brooke didn't seem too bothered by her lack of reply.

"Oh, okay," his sister said with a reluctant sigh. "Gimme a Pop-Tart then. I just can't eat anything with sugar for the rest of the month now. Or maybe just don't tell my husband." She winked at Cameron.

"Roger that!" Henry said with a clap of his hands. "One chef's special, coming right up!"

Brooke snorted then focused her gaze on Cameron... which made the younger woman realize she was about to be roped into a one-on-one conversation. That wasn't an experience Cameron was particularly interested in having, so she unfolded her legs and got up, mumbling something about getting her own cereal.

Henry's sister just smirked. "You know I can still talk to you just fine from here, right?" she said, sitting back and sipping more coffee. Cameron's cheeks heated up a little at how transparent she was. "So Cameron," Brooke continued after swallowing, "tell me about yourself!"

Cameron shrugged while she opened a cabinet and took out a bowl. She wasn't really sure what to say, so she just left it at that.

Henry, though, answered for her, a little proudly. "Cam's a DJ at Moonlight. That club? You know, that us young people go to." He nudged Cameron as he pushed a couple of Pop-Tarts down in the toaster, getting her to snort at the same time as his sister.

"Damn, little brother, don't take this the wrong way but... she sounds way too cool for you." Henry laughed and Cameron snorted again as she picked up the Cheerios box. It was getting close to empty, but had enough for today at least.

Gee, I wonder who's been eating all the Cheerios. Whoops.

"I told her I was a music producer for a big label," Henry said in response. Cameron shook her head with a little tilt to her thin lips.

"Ohhh, that true, Cameron? He used the ol' music producer line on you?" Brooke said.

Cameron turned to answer her, but wasn't really sure she wanted to give a real one. That seemed too personal, especially with the lighter mood. "Nah," she said instead, finishing pouring out her Cheerios. "He's just got a big dick."

Brooke just about spat out her coffee while she started cackling uncontrollably. Cameron snuck an impish glance at Henry, who was blushing and shaking his head slowly at her. She let a sly smirk come over her face before she felt something rub against her legs.

Da Vinci had finally come out from wherever he'd been to greet her, much later than usual. "Hey buddy," she mumbled, reaching down to give him a good-morning pet. The cat eyed the kitchen table warily while he accepted the attention, and as Brooke recovered, she stared back at the cat as if she'd been betrayed.

"Cameron," she said with wonder, "you gotta tell me your secret!" Cameron gave her a quizzical look as she pulled a spoon from the drawer. "With Da Vinci! I've been trying to get him to quit hiding under the couch when I come over for years. But he likes you so much, he'll even risk coming out when I'm around just to say hi!"

Da Vinci looked back up at Cameron with general disinterest, refusing to confirm or deny. She shrugged again and removed a glass from another cabinet, then filled it up with water, exchanging a warm look with Henry. She could feel his sister's eyes on them from the table, looking from one of them to the other like they were equal parts adorable and disgusting.

"Caught you bein' DOMESTIC!" as Kendra would say.

It made a smile spread across Cameron's face. Henry did a double take while he carefully grabbed the Pop-Tarts, trying not to burn himself. He smiled wider, glad he'd caught her grin.

They both sat down at the table with Brooke, the siblings each with a Pop-Tart and Cameron with a bowl of cereal. Brooke carefully broke hers into even squares -- the complete opposite of how Cameron ate, she knew.

Cameron always kept her face close to the bowl, hunched over as if all the Cheerios might fall off her spoon on the way to her mouth -- which, with how many she managed to stack on a single spoonful, may have been true.

Henry was eating more sensibly, though gingerly, seeming almost to grimace and tighten up every time Cameron peered up at him from the edge of her bowl.

Is his sister about to ask an uncomfortable question or something?

"Well, so -- how long have you guys been dating?" Brooke asked cheerily. Cameron wolfed down another mouthful of cereal, shooting an uncertain look to Henry. She shrugged.

Good question.

Henry winced again, almost like he was pissed off at the question, but it disappeared nearly as quickly as it had appeared. "Umm... it's..." he looked to Cameron before finishing with a half-smile just for her, "com-pli-ca-ted."

She smiled back before inserting another shovelful. He winced again, flexing the hand on his thigh into a fist.

Cameron swapped spoon hands and took his from where it was squeezing the life out of his thigh, shooting Henry another curious look -- this one a little more concerned.

What am I missing?

But he didn't return her gaze.

"Hmm, you two are being real cagey," Brooke said with a smile, narrowing her eyes at the two of them. She ate a piece of her Pop-Tart, waiting until she'd swallowed fully to continue the interrogation. "So, did you guys meet at that nightclub?"

Cameron shook her head. "Tinder," she said around a mouthful of Cheerios. She felt Henry's hand squeeze hers what must've been as hard as he could, getting her to whip her eyes over to him. But he'd stopped and wasn't looking at her. Brooke, though, was laughing.

"My little brother got on Tinder??"

What the fuck is going on with him?

Cameron thought she'd gotten pretty good at reading him, but now she had no idea what had him so pissed off.

Suddenly Henry dropped the remains of his Pop-Tart and got up all in one motion, pulling his hand away from Cameron's. "I gotta go to the bathroom," he said quickly, flashing a manufactured smile while he was already on his way.

With a furrowed brow, Cameron's eyes followed him all the way to the bathroom door. He didn't look back.

The confusion was still showing on her face as she deposited another spoonful of cereal into her mouth, then she noticed Brooke had leaned in and was beckoning for her to come closer.

"It's the chewing," Brooke said in a conspiratorial whisper.

Cameron stopped, her mouth still full of Cheerios -- then chomped one more time, painfully aware of the sound. "Umm..." she gulped. "What?"

A smile almost like Henry's formed in the corner of his older sister's lips. "He can't stand chewing. It's not you, he just... can't take the sound. Or when people talk with their mouths full."

Brooke's expression was kind, like she was trying to do Cameron a favor. Cameron looked down at the remaining Cheerios guardedly, like they might bite back at her.

"He... doesn't like the sound?" Cameron wasn't sure she got it, but Brooke nodded.

"That's why he got up." She pointed to the bathroom subtly, as if she didn't want him to notice they were talking about him. "He can't take it. Gets real ticked off. We all cover our mouths when we chew, try not to say anything 'til we've swallowed." She held up her hands in a mini-gesture, demonstrating covering her mouth. "Really -- nothing to do with you."

The care in her eyes looked exactly like Henry when he wanted Cameron to know something wasn't her fault. Though... Cameron was sure her animalistic table manners probably hadn't helped matters.

She turned back to the bathroom door, thinking about it, then back to his sister. "What? Like... like it's a pet peeve or something?"

Brooke shook her head. "No, seriously, it's like a... condition. He can't focus on anything else -- drives him into an uncontrollable rage."

Cameron pressed her brows together, running over in her head all the times they'd eaten with one another -- seeing them through a different lens. He usually didn't eat around her, actually.

Maybe because he doesn't wanna listen to me eat? Oh shit, the other day in my apartment, I was fucking chomping chips right into his ear and it was like he was about to explode.

She let her spoon drop into her bowl, suddenly without much of an appetite, and felt her face drop, too. Brooke clearly noticed because she reached across the table to Cameron's hand, but Cameron jerked it away. She quickly apologized.

"Sorry... reflex," she muttered, looking up at Henry's sister sheepishly.

Brooke didn't seem to take offense.

I guess I found a way to offend Henry, though, finally.

The attorney's brown eyes were searching Cameron's now, trying to read her, to figure out what this messy girl who ate like the wolf tattooed on her neck was doing with her little brother. That's what Cameron would have been thinking, anyway.

"Why... why wouldn't he say anything?" Cameron said.

Brooke shrugged sympathetically. "He doesn't want it to be your problem."

That... tracked, from what Cameron had already experienced. He hadn't even wanted to tell her he didn't like kissing her cigarette mouth. She tried her best not to let it discourage her, not after the promise she'd made to herself. But... it wasn't easy.

How many other things am I gonna find out I've already fucked up without even knowing it?

She blew air out her nose in response.

"Hey, Cameron, really, don't sweat it," Brooke said with an encouraging smile. "Everybody who knows him goes through the same thing. You get used to thinking about it, and then you don't think about it at all anymore."

Cameron understood why it seemed like Henry was particularly close with this sister... although she actually had no idea -- maybe he was even closer with the other two. But where Henry's smile was self-effacing bordering on embarrassed, Brooke's was... warm. There was no other word for it.

"Thanks for telling me," Cameron murmured.

Henry's sister took a swig of coffee, mercifully letting the subject drop, then started up another one since Henry still hadn't come back.

Probably waiting until he's sure I'm done with my Cheerios.

"So, look, I'm his big sister, I gotta ask nosy questions," Brooke said with a wink, then leaned in again, ticking points off her fingers like she was laying out a case. "You know where all the dishes are. Da Vinci is BFFs with you. But, how long you've been dating is..." she fluttered her hand.

"Com-pli-ca-ted," Cameron said, finishing the prompt with a little laugh.

Brooke returned it. "Right! And you have inside jokes, too." She pointed as if Cameron had made some argument for her.

"So... how serious are you guys?" said the attorney across the table, getting to the question she wanted to ask all along. Then she tried to couch it a little, holding up her palms. "I'm sorry if that's a stupid question to ask, maybe you guys aren't serious at all and now you're thinking 'uh oh' -- but it's just me asking, I swear! I just don't know what your guys' relationship is like... which... well, I guess that's what I'm asking."

As if the eyes across from her really were Henry's, Cameron tried to find the right answer in them. Buying a little time, she turned to the closed bathroom door again, not sure if she was checking to make sure he was still in there, or hoping he was on his way to rejoin them.

Brooke was still waiting patiently when Cameron turned back. She really wasn't unsure about her answer, though. If there's one thing their relationship was, it was serious.

I think a hospital visit alone probably got us out of fuckbuddy territory. Plus, he met Gram.

Still, she wasn't sure how to express that to Brooke in an intelligent way. A nod, she figured, was a good start, though.

"We... we've been through a lot, I guess. So... you know," she shrugged. "Yeah. Pretty sure we are."

This kind of thing was still new to her, as was talking about it, even if she was trying her best to be as open as she could with Henry's sister.

Both corners of Brooke's mouth curved up a little bit, so Cameron figured she must not be angry Cameron was shacking up with her little brother at least. She seemed to expect Cameron to keep going, though.

Taking a breath, she did say more, but to the crumbs on Brooke's paper plate.

"I dunno. Maybe it's stupid," she mumbled, sighing. "I keep... I keep--" She looked up at the inviting eyes that seemed so much like Henry's. Maybe that's why she felt like getting all this shit off her chest. It wasn't something she could tell Henry, and she didn't know anyone else who also knew him. Who else could she tell about all the fuckups that kept piling up?

She started again, leaning back in her chair, talking to her bowl now.

"Do you ever just, keep making the same fuckups again and again and again?" Cameron said in a low voice, then raised her eyes to the older woman. "Like, not just big ones -- well, big ones too. But like, just... I dunno." She felt like she'd lost the thread, and let herself deflate.

But Brooke caught her gaze. "You have no idea," she said, nodding, her voice serious. There was no joke in there.

Cameron wasn't sure whether to believe her. Brooke didn't look like someone who fucked up at all, much less as a repeat offender. It didn't really matter if it was true or not, though.

She sighed and leaned in again, playing with her spoon. "This... thing me and Henry have," Cameron began in the same tone, "I don't... I don't wanna fuck it up."

Cameron flicked her eyes up to Brooke, whose eyebrow was arched and looked like she was bursting to say something but was keeping it inside. That look subsided and her eyes shifted to watching Cameron with a new fascination.

Sighing again, Cameron let her sights roam around the living room and kitchen that had become so familiar to her in such a short time. When she drifted back to Brooke, Henry's sister was still resting her chin on her hand, leaning in and paying attention to Cameron in a way that few people did.

"I just don't know how many more tries I'm gonna get."

Brooke reached her hand out again and took Cameron's without resistance.

They're a real touchy family, huh.

This time, she didn't mind. She had no idea what Brooke could possibly say to reassure her, but Cameron was hoping she'd come up with something.

Her deep brown eyes were already saying as much as Henry's ever did.

"Cameron," Brooke began with a comforting smile, "I've known you for about two seconds. But I've known him his whole life. The way he looks at you?" Her face softened into something warmer. "I think the answer is, 'as many as it takes to get it right,'" she said as if she'd seen the answer key, squeezing Cameron's hand in her long, bony fingers.

Cameron searched the brown eyes that looked as familiar as the living room, even if she knew they weren't the same ones she'd spent so long studying. She was hoping she could believe them just the same.

The bathroom door clicked open and Brooke gave Cameron's hand one more squeeze before pulling away and standing up to go greet Henry.

"Well little brother, I've finished my cross-examination," she said pseudo-dramatically.

He smirked back at her as he rounded the kitchen island. He seemed like the perfectly normal Henry. "Oh yeah? How'd she do?"

Cameron got up, too, sensing Brooke was about to leave, but didn't know what to do. So she just stood there in her typical slouch, chewing the tip of her finger nervously.

"My advice?" Brooke said with a wink toward Cameron and a slap of her brother's shoulder. "Don't run out of Cheerios."

That even got a laugh out of Cameron.

"Anyway, I'll tell her attorney where to shove their offer and I'll let you know what needs to happen next, okay?" Brooke said more seriously as she hugged Henry goodbye. Henry nodded.

Cameron felt weirdly exposed just standing there. Why do these people draw out their goodbyes so much, Jesus.

But Brooke apparently still wasn't quite ready to say goodbye yet, because her eyes lit up as if she'd just remembered something.

"Oh! I was gonna invite you to dinner at our place on Friday." She looked over to Cameron to let her know she was included, even though she hadn't known Cameron existed before coming over. "Cameron, you available? You're the draw, not this guy. You can tell his nieces and nephews all about his big dick."

Cameron felt a laugh burst out of her again alongside the two of them, and she shrugged affirmatively with almost no hesitation. She wanted to make that kind of effort, to show Henry she wanted to be a part of his life -- all of it.

But Henry made a noise like he wasn't so sure. Cameron's gaze darted to him, ready to be hurt.

Does he not want me there?

"Errr... actually," he said, his cheeks reddening in real time. "Friday's our staff social at the school."

"Aw," Brooke said, drooping. She quickly recovered. "Oh well. So Cameron, you'll get to meet all his teacher pals, huh," she said with a wink. "Watch out for Paul, that old so-and-so!" She laughed, but then looked between the two of them, confused, when no one else did. Her face fell as she thought she figured out what was going on.

"Oh no," Brooke said, taking a guess. "You already met all his friends and I'm literally the last person in the world to find out you're dating...." She looked ready to playfully swat Henry -- but that wasn't it, either.

Henry gave a little embarrassed smile as he turned to Cameron. "Err... hey you wanna go to the staff social at my school on Friday? Food for teachers and a significant other, so...." He shrugged and Cameron snorted in relief. She thought he didn't want her to meet his family.

Brooke covered her face with her hand, embarrassed at how she'd bungled the situation -- although not displeased with the outcome, apparently.

"Sounds good." Cameron nodded with a smile that surprised her. "Gotta meet this Paul guy."

Henry gave her his best embarrassed half-smile in response.

"Welp," Brooke said, wiping her hands clean dramatically. "I've done all the damage I can here!" She approached Cameron now, making her tense up. "Really great to meet you, Cameron," she said with a warm, genuine smile, and wrapped her arms around Cameron.

Cameron let it happen, her body still stiff, and managed only a quick pat in return. Henry mouthed an "I'm sorry" to her while she did.

But Brooke pulled away as satisfied as if Cameron had hugged her like an old friend. She slipped on a stylish black coat from the coat tree, then waved to the couch as she opened the door.

"Byyyyeeee Da Vinci! Bye Cameron," she said in a regular voice, giving a short wave. She gave a final short wave to her brother, too, before shutting the door on one last goodbye.

"Bye... Henry."

~~~

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