Lupine Dreams Pt. 10 Ch. 32-34

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

Enjoy (:

~~~

Chapter 32

The full moon above them reflected perfectly -- maybe a little too perfectly -- how Henry was feeling: like a bloated celestial body.

"Wow I ate waayyyyyy too much," he said to Paul without an ounce of real regret.

Despite the temperature, they were sitting in a couple of patio chairs on Paul's back deck, looking purposelessly into his backyard as they sipped on after-dinner beers. It was cold enough that they'd each put on jackets, and Henry really was starting to wish he'd worn gloves, too. But with a couple of kids in the house, this was the best place to be able to just talk -- "to speak as men do," as Paul had put it.

"Good, gotta get a little more meat on those bones!" Paul responded, jabbing Henry lightly in the ribs.

"Okayyy, Mom."

Paul cleared his throat. "You're skin and bones, my boy!" he said in what Henry assumed was supposed to be an attempt at sounding like a pushy Italian mother. It was definitely only an attempt, though, and the fact it was a horrible one probably just made it better.

The sliding door opened behind them and they both turned. Paul's son, Brandon, was wearing a slick, black, untucked dress shirt with the collar popped and had a fedora cocked on his head. Everything was a little bit big for him -- except where it was a little too small for him. The eternal curse bestowed upon middle schoolers since time immemorial.

Brandon did his best to make an entrance, but apparently the wooden deck wasn't cooperative, so whatever Risky-Business-esque slide he'd attempted ended up in more of a stumble -- although Henry gave him credit for a decently smooth recovery as he landed on his feet next to his dad.

"Mom says I'm supposed to show both of you this with the hat--" he said, then took off the fedora, "--and without."

Paul and Henry looked at each other in instant agreement.

"With the hat," they said in unison.

Brandon's face broke into a victorious grin. "I told her!" And he stomped back inside, sliding the door closed again.

The two adults broke into good-natured laughter and went back to their beers.

"So he's real into jazz band, huh?" Henry said. At least, he assumed that's why Brandon had been dressed like that. He knew he was in the middle school's jazz band, anyway.

Paul nodded and gave Henry a look that said he couldn't believe the answer was yes.

"I have no idea where he got it, but that boy can play any instrument you put in front of him. Me and LeAnn, neither of us ever played more than a recorder in elementary school. But him?" Paul shook his head with a marveling grin. "Piano, guitar, trumpet, I think I saw him playing a saxophone once -- doesn't matter. Picks it right up."

"He's a good kid," Henry said, which is what he figured you say about somebody's kid when you don't really have anything to say.

Paul nodded. "Oh yeah, he absolutely is. Not sure where he got that either," he said with a smirk. "But, you know, it seems to work for him. You know he even has a girlfriend?" Paul shook his head again for good measure. "Which... messes with my brain."

Henry looked at his friend slyly. "Must be the fedora."

They both laughed and took another couple of sips, soaking in the night. Muffled sounds from inside said that the crisp evening air was probably worth the tradeoff.

"Really, everything about him messes with my brain," Paul began again, then turned to Henry. "He's got this piano solo he's been working on for that concert he's got coming up."

"The one he's getting outfit feedback on?"

Paul nodded with another amused smile. "But, when he's practicing -- and, I mean, I don't pay that close attention -- but I noticed I never hear him play the same thing twice. So finally, I ask him, 'Brandon, what are you doing, my man? Can you not read music??'"

Henry snorted. "I'm sure that went over real well with your teenage son."

Paul took another drink and nodded emphatically. "Of course!" They laughed, then Paul continued. "So he rolls his eyes -- which, to be fair, is about 75 percent of his communication -- and he's like, 'noooo, dad,' you know, like he got stuck with the dumbest idiot in the dad lottery -- hey don't make that face!"

They laughed again.

"Anyway he says, 'no, you improv it. It's jazz.'" Henry could hear the implied eyeroll. "Well, okay then, sorrrrrry! So I can't help myself, I ask him, 'so, how do you know if you're doing it right? Like, if you're playing the right notes?'

"And he looks at me like he's amazed I could ask a question that might not actually be completely stupid -- which, not gonna lie, made me feel pretty good!"

Henry laughed along. "So, what did he say?"

"He says, 'you can't play the wrong note. It's the next note that makes it good or bad.'"

Paul sat back, tipping his beer bottle at Henry meaningfully, as if he'd given out some sage wisdom. Henry wasn't sure he knew how to apply it to a real-life situation, but he was willing to play along.

"That's pretty good," he said, taking a drink from his own bottle. "So... what did you get out of that?"

Paul seemed to take the question more seriously than Henry had expected -- or even probably intended. "I think it means you just gotta keep trying and trying things 'til you find some notes that sound like they fit together," he said with a shrug, then waited a beat. "So they've got this concert scheduled for a few days, just in case."

They laughed again, harder this time, and let the laughter fall into another comfortable silence.

The moon was lighting things brighter in Paul's backyard than it seemed like it had any right to. The silence stretched on for a minute, maybe two.

"Hey man, I'm sorry about the ambush we sprung on you," Paul said, a little quieter, and looked over to Henry.

Has that been on his mind all night?

Henry waved it off. "Nah, I get it. I mean... you guys definitely made me think about some things. I know where you were coming from."

He wasn't entirely sure how much of that he meant. He did understand where they were coming from, but... they didn't even know Cameron. They'd come on a little strong. Or, maybe they'd just made too much sense at the time. Either way, he still felt some lingering resentment toward Paul and Heather because of what they'd said to him.

Definitely not because of how quickly I was ready to give up on this thing with Cameron after one conversation with them, right?

"Good," Paul said, although the tone in his voice said he didn't really expect Henry was telling the truth, either. But he knew that meant they'd get past it. "You know, I thought we were doing the right thing. We just don't wanna see you get hurt, man." Then he shrugged. "But as either of my kids will be happy to tell you, I really don't know shit."

"Well, now you can't say 'I told you so' if it does blow up in my face," Henry said, joking. Paul smirked back.

"No, no, you aren't seeing it, my man. Now I can say 'I told you so' no matter what happens!" They laughed again, but the topic -- predictably -- lingered in Henry's mind now that it had been brought up. Apparently it was lingering in Paul's, too.

"So... I heard she got to meet Brooke, huh?" Paul said.

Henry nodded. Brooke and Paul had some kind of backdoor Henry gossip network or something that he found equal parts annoying and helpful, depending on his mood. "Yeah," was all he really wanted to say about that, though.

Paul looked over to him, more serious now. "Hey, I hope you won't try to have her avoid us, okay? We're with you, man. Really. Heather, too. Even if she clearly has... a few more reservations about Cameron than I probably do. Or maybe I should just say she feels more strongly about them, I guess."

Henry sipped his beer again, working that over in his head to try and figure out if that was Paul's way of telling him he really thought dating Cameron was crazy.

"Yeah... what's Heather got against Cameron, anyway?" Henry asked, genuinely curious. Really, he was curious what they both had against Cameron, but figured this was a little more diplomatic, at least.

Paul shrugged, treading carefully. "I mean... I don't think either of us has anything against Cameron in particular. We don't know her. But... well, we kinda said all we had to say already. We don't have to rehash that." He gestured with his beer bottle toward Henry. "That doesn't mean Heather won't be there rooting for you, though. Really. Just like me."

Henry felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips. He knew that was true, but he still appreciated that Paul said it out loud.

"Well," Henry said with an anticipatory grimace, "Heather's gonna get her chance to prove it, I guess, because I'm bringing Cameron to the staff social on Friday." He braced for Paul's reaction -- which was to burst out laughing. Henry laughed a little too, but he wasn't sure what was funny.

Paul put up a hand. "No, no, I'm just laughing because, I mean, that's in a few days! Heather's gonna have to put her money where her mouth is pretty damn quick!"

Henry wasn't sure that made it funny, but he laughed a little more anyway as a courtesy.

They drank a little more, letting the silence linger longer this time until they'd both finished off their bottles.

After a while, Paul let out a sigh. It wasn't quite cold enough for his breath to show, even in the chilly night air.

"You know," he said, "I try to teach those two little shits I'm responsible for how they're supposed to act, how they're supposed to, like, do stuff. You know, without killing themselves. But..." he looked at Henry now, "it never, ever goes how you hope. You tell 'em, 'oh, no, you can't do that, or it's gonna end up bad.' And of course it doesn't. Or I tell 'em, 'no, no, you gotta do it this way, because if you don't, it's gonna come back to bite you later.' And then they just find some other way to do it that I never even thought of.

"Like I said. Little shits." Paul rolled eyes, but was smiling. Then he sighed again, deeper.

"Or, even worse, you give 'em some advice and -- God forbid -- they actually take it... and of course it all blows up in their face." He shook his head, his smile wryer now. "I tell you what, if we have a third kid--"

A muffled HA! floated in through the closed door behind them, presumably from Paul's wife. They both shot down in the chairs, as if trying to hide, staring at each other in shock.

"No way she heard that, right?" Henry whispered.

Paul shivered dramatically and gave him a look that said he could underestimate LeAnn's hearing at his own peril. They both broke up into giggles.

"Anyway," Paul said, eventually picking up his train of thought, "I think all I'm getting out of all that is it's an absolute myth of life that you can ever learn how to live it -- much less teach it."

Henry narrowed his eyes at his friend and gave him a coy smile, then pointed to the empty beer bottle. "How many of those have you had without me looking?" They both laughed again, but Paul protested through his chuckles.

"Hey, I thought that was pretty good! That was some wise shit, man!"

Henry could feel the air getting a little colder, even as the moon seemed to shine brighter. A few dogs barked at each other in the far off distance, and muffled footfalls betrayed some frenzied activity back inside the house.

"Hey can I ask you something?" Paul said, producing another two beer bottles from someplace and opening them.

Henry hadn't seen a cooler. How many more did he have stashed? But he nodded his head anyway, figuring that was the price of the fresh bottle.

"Are you gonna start going by Henry now?"

Henry stopped before taking a drink, taken aback by the question. He hadn't been expecting it, although, he really should have. Heather had clearly told Paul about Cameron calling him Henry, they'd just never had a chance to follow up.

Really, though, he wasn't sure about his answer. He looked to the moon for guidance, but found it was still up to him.

"You know, I'm... not really sure," he said, taking a swig. He shrugged and turned to Paul, still unsure. "I think... I think I might, though. I really do think of myself that way now. I'm not sure when it happened. It wasn't all at once, but... yeah. Maybe." He shrugged again. Not only was it a question of the hassle, but there was a larger question that loomed in his mind that he was equally uncertain he really wanted to address. Not quite yet.

If Cameron and I break up -- whether that's next week or next year or whatever -- will I still wanna be Henry? And if not.... Well, that wasn't something he really wanted to spend time thinking about. The answers weren't anything he was interested in hearing.

Paul was looking at him, trying to gauge what that all meant. "That's not super helpful to me," he said, deadpan, then they laughed. "I'll just stick with 'champ' I guess."

Henry nodded. "That's probably safest."

After a pause, Paul leaned back, seeming more at ease than he had. "So, things are going good then?" he said. "With Cameron, I mean."

Henry looked at the full moon and sipped his beer again, nodding slowly, then turned to his friend with a half-smile. "Yeah. I think they are, anyway."

Paul smiled back. "Good, man. Good." Then he offered his bottle to clink to a toast. "To the universe of pussy."

Henry tapped the bottle with his, letting his own contentment show on his face.

"To the universe of pussy."

~~~

Chapter 33

[vibe track: disparate youth - santigold]

Cameron ran a fingertip lightly over her newest tattoo, a small wolf howling from the inside of her wrist at her left palm, pointed to her pinkie side. Kendra's was on her right wrist, so if they held them up together, the wolves would be baying to each other. Calling to each other.

They were only a few days old. The skin underneath was still a little reddish and she had to fight the urge to scratch it. It might not have been the most painful tattoo she'd ever gotten, but it was definitely close.

She wasn't really sure why Kendra had suggested it -- paid for it, even. Kendra wasn't into getting inked. In fact, Cameron was pretty sure this was her only tattoo.

But Kendra had insisted, even when Cameron warned her it was definitely gonna hurt. It had, and Cameron had tried to keep from smiling a little while she'd held Kendra's other hand during the whole process. Still, Kendra had gritted her teeth and gotten through it.

The gesture was deeply flattering, if Cameron was being honest.

Tattoos aren't something you can just put on and take off on a whim. Not like a wedding ring... Mal. They mean something more. A lifetime commitment -- or at least a reminder of a promise meant to last a lifetime.

Every tattoo on Cameron's body was like that. At this point, most of them were reminders of broken promises, though not all. Some wolves were already Kendra, whether her friend knew it or not. But all of them were about remembering -- the story of her that was so deeply a part of Cameron that it was inked into her body forever, bleeding through to the skin from her soul.

The newest tattoo, though, was a promise for the future.

That made Cameron smile. She was alone in her room, music pulsing from her phone while she did nothing in particular. She never had gotten replacement blackout curtains. In the unimpeded sunshine, her body moved to the tinny beat coming out of the outmatched phone speakers.

As she completed a slow, 360-degree turn, she opened her eyes -- and there was Kendra, leaning against the doorway, her arms crossed and watching with a smile. It wasn't her usual grin, but... something more restrained. Maybe even wistful. Cameron didn't stop, but motioned for Kendra to come and join her little impromptu dance party.

Kendra smirked a little, holding up a small container of ointment instead. It was to keep their wrists moisturized while the skin healed, and Kendra was pretty anal about it.

Like she is about most things, really, Cameron thought with a little laugh to herself.

"I just wanna make sure I'm doin' this right," Kendra said. Cameron put down her arms and stopped slowly gyrating. She tried on her best comforting look, although it wasn't a shape her face often made -- so she wasn't sure how successful she was.

Kendra came in closer and put a dollop of the ointment on her other hand.

How can you even do that wrong? Why's she keep asking me about this every day?

"Yeah, I mean, that looks fine," Cameron said with a shrug. Kendra carefully spread the pasty balm and started to rub it in a little bit at a very deliberate pace.

"You remember when we were gonna start a nightclub?" Kendra said, making conversation and looking up at her friend while she carefully worked in the ointment.

Cameron snorted. "Yeah. Actually I was just telling Henry about that the other day."

Kendra smiled more warmly. "I'm glad you have Henry."

"Uh... yeah, okay, me too...." Cameron felt her brows scrunch together.

Is she dying? Is she super fucking high? Nah, she's gotta go to work soon, that wouldn't be like her.

Kendra took Cameron's hand gently, holding on even after the initial flinch, and Cameron let her put the ointment on her wrist. Kendra applied it just as carefully, looking down at her handiwork the whole time.

Until finally, she sighed, turning up to Cameron. She looked like she was very reluctant to do whatever it was she was about to do. Cameron felt her heart start to beat faster, even if she wasn't sure what was about to happen.

"So... you know I've been checking out that school in Sacramento?" Kendra said in a voice as cautious as her touch.

Cameron nodded slowly. "Yeah -- hey, so, is that what you, like, wanna do?" She was trying to actively show an interest, something she hadn't done enough of throughout their entire friendship.

"Well... yeah, Cam, it is. And... I... I'm gonna go there starting in November."

Cameron's heart started thudding now, her mouth suddenly dry. She blinked. That's all she could do.

No. Nonononono. Please. No. Don't do this to me.

"What?" she said, trying to buy more time to process.

Kendra was holding her hand now, the mirrored wolves staring back at them both.

"I'm gonna move to Sacramento in November, Cam," she said, her voice still quiet and gentle. Her eyes were full of an apology Cameron knew her friend shouldn't have to make.

The rest of Cameron's vision seemed to dissolve, a blurry blackness closing in around the wolf on her wrist, all the sounds in the room reduced to a droning buzz in her ears. She fought the overwhelming sensation that she was about to fall, but her hand told her she was steady -- held by Kendra's.

"You're... moving...?" she heard herself say. Her voice sounded like it was underwater.

How did I not see this coming. She was talking about this for weeks. You don't even fucking think about her, not even enough to figure out that going to a fucking school in Sacramento means GOING TO A FUCKING SCHOOL IN FUCKING SACRAMENTO. No wonder she's fucking leaving you.

"I'm sorry, babygirl," Kendra said, and Cameron felt one of Kendra's hands move to her shoulder, then to her back, rubbing gently. "But... we weren't gonna live here forever, ya know?"

Abruptly jarred awake, Cameron ripped her hand away and jerked her eyes up to meet Kendra's. They were welling up with tears. Cameron took another step back, cradling her wrist in her other hand like a wound.

Nothing was blurry anymore. Everything was as sharp as a knife.

Kendra took a hesitating step toward her, but Cameron felt herself take another step back and her face harden further. She could feel her eyes straining, but not to hold back tears.

Yeah, what did you think, Cameron? Huh? That you two were just gonna live here forever in this shitty shithole? Just a couple of lone wolves or whatever bullshit you told yourself when you were 16? You stupid. Fucking. Naïve. Little. Bitch. Grow up.

Kendra let the tears drop, clearly wishing Cameron would allow her to close the gap and try to make this go down easier.

SHE'S hurt?? She's the one who fucking decided to leave!

"I thought...." Cameron's voice cracked as she tried to speak, only fueling her anger that her own voice would fucking betray her like that. Looking down, Cameron tried to find any inspiration.

And she found it, held in her hand -- focusing on the newest tattoo.

The newest broken promise.

Her eyes snapped back up to Kendra, finally showing what she wanted to feel inside. She thrust her wrist up accusingly.

"Is that why you made me do this?!" Cameron's voice was cooperating now, yelling at her friend. Kendra winced and another tear fell. "Because you knew you were fucking leaving?? You said all that fucking BULLSHIT about us being... sisters, whatever the fuck you said -- and you were halfway out the fucking door the whole fucking time!"

The anger came easily now. She didn't need any more inspiration or encouragement. She wanted to scream.

Yet more tears came down Kendra's face, but her jaw was set, looking as unmovable as the rest of her between Cameron and the door.

Cameron glanced down to her wrist again, and the fury she was feeling came close to crossing into the despair she was doing her best to punch down.

She hadn't been without Kendra since high school. Kendra was always there, always the buffer between her and other people, between her and her tantrums and her breakdowns -- between her and the rest of the world. A best friend and a security blanket who always let Cameron be herself.

Whatever tears were trying to escape Cameron's steely eyes were boiled away by her white-hot rage before they had the chance. She slowly shook her head and snatched up her phone, turning off the music.

Kendra took another step toward her as she slung her backpack over her shoulder.

"Cameron," Kendra said, pleading and sticking her wrist up in front of her. "Nothing changes this. Nothing."

Cameron shoved her best friend aside -- not a hard shove, but enough to leave no doubt about whether she was serious. Kendra let out a noise like she'd been punched in the gut.

"You just did," Cameron said, letting the venom she felt inside drip out of her, staring down the only person she'd ever thought of as a sister, the only one who really seemed to understand her -- and who loved her anyway.

Cameron strode out of the room without a backwards glance.

***

The tears Cameron had been holding back flowed now as she slammed her forehead against the steering wheel again and again.

Why can't things just stay the same for two fucking seconds? Can the universe just not fucking handle me smiling every once in a fucking while? Is that some fucking crime against nature?

The rage that had sparked so quickly had burned out just as fast. Now, she felt unmoored, unsteady even in her seat.

Kendra had been her bedrock. They'd only been friends for seven years, but... we packed a lot into seven years.

Cameron had never lived on her own without Kendra. She hadn't even really been herself before she'd met Kendra.

I'm so fucking... I'm fucking scared of not having her here.

She thought maybe admitting it to herself might help. It didn't.

Through her blinking tears, she could see her wrist sitting on her lap, the tattoo looking up at her -- taunting her.

What a dirty fucking plan. Now it's there forever. So much for a lifetime fucking commitment. Now you got your nice little memory. And I got another lifetime fucking reminder I'm not worth staying for.

And who can fucking blame you.

The two wolves charging down the same arm seemed different now, and she pawed at them, trying to get them to look like she remembered through the tears. They wouldn't.

Fuck you. Fuck you Kendra. I trusted you. With... with me. Now that's all I'm ever gonna see.

Deep down, she knew she wasn't being fair. She didn't care. Not right now.

Life isn't fucking fair. Why should I be?

~~~

Chapter 34

Henry trotted up the walk from his carport to his front door and confirmed what he thought he'd seen from the road: Cameron was sitting on his front stoop, leaning back against the door, eyes closed and a pair of headphones on. In her baggy pants and sweatshirt, she looked like a kid waiting for her parents to get home from work.

He nudged her playfully with his foot and her eyes snapped open, ready to slice through whoever was disturbing her.

So... this isn't a happy surprise visit then.

But they immediately softened when she saw it was Henry. She took her headphones off and put them in her backpack as she got up.

"Hey," Henry said, slotting the key into the lock.

"Hey."

"How long were you waiting? You coulda texted me, I woulda hurried if I knew you were just sitting here." He opened the door for her and she went inside with a shrug.

"No big deal."

She loped over to the couch and flopped face-first onto it, her Converse dangling over the edge. Her face was angled the other way, into the back cushions.

Henry knew better than to ask. Cameron wasn't really a talker. But... as long as he gave her some space, she seemed like she usually opened up a little bit. It'd been that way since the first night they'd met.

So he just went about his usual routine, changing into a more comfortable shirt and pants. Really, he was sort of flattered Cameron felt like she could come over here and just... be. He knew that took a lot of trust from her to feel that comfortable around him.

Or maybe just around Da Vinci.

That thought was only reinforced when he came back out of his bedroom to the kitchen. The cat had wormed his way underneath her arm, making himself comfortable -- like he always did with her. Henry gave a small snort and started to get some stuff together to make for dinner.

He was a simple man with an Italian mother, so he always had some pasta and sauce on hand. He opted for that, taking his time.

"So," he said, "there's this kid in my third hour junior English class, he's a real smartass, very scatterbrained. Comes in late sometimes, forgets stuff -- otherwise, good kid, gets good grades. Pretty funny. Drew a picture of me boxing an alligator once. I dunno.

"Anyway, he comes into class late again today, like five minutes after the bell. And I'm like Nate, what's the deal, dude. And he gets this shifty look on his face and he says, 'uh, sorry Mr. M, I was... fighting crime.'" Henry laughed. "Maybe not the best one I've heard, but probably the most creative."

He snuck a glance back at the couch, but neither Cameron nor Da Vinci had perked up their ears or otherwise acknowledged him. He just shrugged and filled the silence with more mundane things about what had happened at school that day -- dumb excuses students tried on him, a sadder aside about a student in his fourth hour class who had a very good excuse, inane directives from the administration, annoying parents.

The pair on the couch didn't show much interest, but Henry just kept going anyway while he made dinner.

When it was ready, he prepared two plates, then, just as he was about to pour sauce on each of them, paused in the middle of some anecdote Paul had told him about one of his football players. From what little he knew of Cameron's eating habits -- besides that she generally chowed down like the wolf tattooed on her neck -- she had extremely plain tastes. So he held off on the sauce.

The sudden silence, though, caused Cameron to stir, and he caught the movement of her head poking up in the corner of his vision.

"Yeah? So did he get to play?" she said, her voice soft and a little scratchy. Her eyes were ringed red and her hair was pressed against the side of her head.

Henry was shocked she'd even been listening. He was barely listening to what he'd been saying by that point. "Oh... uh, no." He shrugged. "Them's the rules -- gotta keep at least a C in all his classes."

"That's dumb."

He shrugged again. He didn't really care either way. "So... you want something to eat?"

She nodded, still with that blank, vaguely dispirited look on her face, and got up, shuffling over to join him at the table. She declined any sauce, confirming his suspicions there.

He also noticed she covered her mouth when she was chewing now, like she was trying to make an effort to be more... polite. He wasn't sure what that was about, though it was a welcome relief.

Cameron asked him a few questions about his school, but other than that, didn't offer much in terms of conversation as they ate.

She'll tell me what's up when she's ready.

***

Henry was trying to remind himself that Cameron was here because she was clearly having a terrible day. Because if he didn't keep that in mind... it was otherwise a pretty great weeknight with his girlfriend.

He'd spent some time after dinner grading papers and she'd sat on the couch next to him with Da Vinci, a shitty sci-fi movie on in the background. Eventually he'd had enough of grading, and she was snuggled up against him now, his arm draped over the blanket that covered her, while they watched The Runaway Brain. They'd both seen it before, but she seemed to mind as little as he did.

Hanging out with Cameron was always different than hanging out with anyone else. He liked that. So much of the time they spent together -- whether they were in great moods or bad moods -- was quiet, without saying much. He felt like he'd gotten pretty good at understanding how she communicated, and it made him feel that much closer to her -- like they had their own language they could speak in front of anyone.

Sometimes, though, words were necessary. Even for Cameron.

"Kendra's moving out," she finally said quietly, about halfway through the movie. The black-and-white flashed across the two of them on the couch while Henry took a second to process.

Shit, well, that definitely explains everything. Damn.

He wasn't sure what he should say, though, so he tried to keep it simple to get her to keep going -- kissing her head and pulling her a little tighter to him. "I'm sorry, Cam. Why's she moving?"

"Cosmetology school in Sacramento," she said, her voice not betraying much of any emotion at all, her mouth barely moving enough to enunciate the words.

Ah. Right. Makes sense. Did she... not expect that to happen...?

Cameron went on. "I... didn't take it very well."

At that, Henry was unable to keep a snort to himself, and even she laughed a little. However she'd reacted, he was sure she was underselling it. He kissed her head again, not really sure what else he could do.

"Are you two... okay?" he said hesitantly.

She looked up at him and he could see she had a tear in the corner of her eye.

Okay so that's a no. God knows what she did.

"I... I know I shouldn't be pissed," Cameron said, separating from Henry and sitting up. "We... we weren't gonna live together there forever, you know?" She looked up at him, but it seemed like she was trying to tell something to herself, not Henry.

He nodded as sympathetically as he could. He knew how hard Cameron took things, especially big changes. "When does she go?"

"November." She was absent-mindedly running her fingers along her wrist, then showed him why. "We got these," she said, raising her wrist for him to see. The new tattoo looked a little raw still.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

She turned to him, her eyes gleaming a brighter blue than they normally did. Maybe it was how wet they were. Another tear dropped from the corner of one of them, and she nodded. He was pretty sure she didn't mean physically.

Gently, he took her wrist and kissed it anyway, his lips lingering on the reddish skin beneath the little wolf.

He gave her a slight smile, hoping she'd return it -- even just a little bit. She didn't. Instead, she held up her arm a little higher.

"It... it hurts here, too," she said, pointing to the two wolves racing down the same arm.

Is that also about her and Kendra?

Henry held her arm delicately, and softly kissed his way down the length of the tattoo from her shoulder to below her elbow.

"And here," she said quietly, not looking him in the eye, but pointing to the wolves on her other arm.

Henry complied, taking her far arm gently and kissing just as softly, just as deliberately, along its length. Her expression didn't change much, but he could feel her start to relax a little bit.

"On... on my back, too," she said.

Moving the blanket to the side, he helped her out of her shirt. Her body always looked so compact, but powerful in its own way. He didn't try to keep himself from marveling at the artwork adorning it, or the equally breathtaking canvas it was sketched on.

She didn't seem to mind him soaking her in, either, but she lay down on the hardwood floor next to the couch to make it easier for him to get to every part of her bare back.

"Are you sure you're comfortable?" he said as he straddled her legs, gently kissing the stars on her back, then the wolves -- one by one.

She didn't answer until he was finished with the tattoos on her back, and even then just pointed to the ones on her legs.

Henry was happy to help however he could -- and certainly wasn't going to say no if it involved kissing Cameron all over her slender body.

She angled up to let him slide off her pants and underwear, then lay flat again while he performed the same ritual on the vines, dragon, and wolf that covered her legs.

When he finished, she turned over -- naked before him on the wooden floor -- and pointed to the wolf's mouth on her neck and the upper part of her chest. Her eyes still had a sadness to them, but were twinged with a hungry anticipation.

In truth, he felt it, too. Yes, her body was plenty on its own to make him want her anywhere, anytime. But right now, he was driven by the desire to help her feel just a little bit better -- or at least a little less alone -- however he could.

He could sense the reaction in her body each time his lips caressed her soft skin, and felt his own excitement grow alongside.

Closing his lips around a nipple, his fingers played with the other. Her legs wrapped around him, eager already. The heat from below her waist was magnetic, and he felt himself bulge against his pants.

Cameron sighed with pleasure as his tongue swirled on her breast. But when he gave her a playful nibble, she moaned and pulled his head into her chest as much as she could.

"Yesssss, yes, yes, harder," she exhaled, exhorting him at just above a whisper.

Henry did as he was told, letting his teeth give her a quick bite, and her hips bucked into him. She kept grinding against him, using his neck as leverage for her bottom half as he lightly bit her again.

Scrambling to get his pants and underwear off, his trapped member sprang against her warm, bare flesh. That only made him more excited.

In the way she returned his hungry kiss, Henry could feel just how much she wanted release, how much she needed to work off all the feelings that had been roiling inside her all day.

When he pulled his mouth away, her teeth closed on his lip and he yelped -- startled -- his dick jumping involuntarily at the sensation. She held his lip between her teeth for just a second, then let it snap back.

Cameron turned underneath him, getting up on all fours next to the couch. The black and white flashes from the TV played across her body in thrilling shadows.

She pressed herself against Henry's hanging cock, sliding up and down along its length so he could feel just how wet and ready she was.

"Give it to me, Henry," she intoned in a low voice, just in case there'd been any doubt left.

He rose from his knees behind her, checking to make sure his lip wasn't bleeding, and knew he desperately wanted to exactly as she asked.

Only a few weeks ago he'd had sex with his wife here -- for the last time. This spot was still tainted for him. At the time, he'd been so sure of what he'd wanted, so excited about it -- like he'd been dangerously high on Mal.

Cameron, though, never made him feel like that. He was sure he wanted this in a way that was so different than his certainty in how he'd wanted Mallory. Cameron had come here just to be around him. Not because she'd wanted something from him, but because she didn't feel like he was going to demand something from her.

The only thing Henry wanted was to be that safe place for her. He was sure of that now. This, with Cameron, was what he wanted. Whom he wanted.

He plunged inside her, groaning at the feeling of her warm, inviting pussy squeezing him and encouraging him deeper. Cameron did her best to shove herself back into him, impaling herself as quickly as she could manage on his shaft. He took hold of her hips as she gasped, and he thrust himself deeper into her --again, and again.

"Fuck yessss, Henry," she breathed out. "Keep going, deeper." Her voice was calm, while her body was anything but.

Compelled by her urging, Henry pulled her coiled body as far into him as he could, trying to reach her neck with his shaft every time he threw himself into her.

He was grunting out each breath now, feeling her eager pussy squeezing him in further and tighter. She arched and twisted, the sinews of her small back accentuated in the dim, shimmering light of the television.

"Harder, harder," she gasped out, pressing her own face into the floor. Henry pushed into her, trying to accommodate her by slamming as hard as he could into her.

He could hear himself groaning now with the effort. She moaned and took his hand from her hip, pulling him forward so he was at a steeper angle, pounding her into the hard floor. With each slap of their skin together, Cameron let out high-pitched yelps that came out faster and louder, quickening his own pace.

She seemed to like it the harder he went -- the more her body was bent and contorted, the more pressure slammed her face into the floor while he fucked her.

He did his best, trying not to think about how it was making him feel yet. He focused on how it was making her feel instead.

"Spank me," she groaned out, the excitement building inside her, need oozing from her voice.

Henry tried to keep going, but felt his pace flag.

There's nothing weird about that. Just do it. She's not asking you to choke her or something. Just do it. It's okay.

"What?" he said instead, as if he hadn't heard.

"N-Never mind, keep -- ahhhh keep going," she said as Henry kept it up.

He didn't feel afraid, he just felt like he'd... like he'd let her down somehow. His hand slid up her arching back beneath him until he reached her hair... and he grabbed a handful.

Cameron gasped and let out a deep, guttural groan as he tugged on her hair, pulling her neck up and her back into a sharper arch as he dove inside her. "Fuccckkkkk YESSSS Henrryyyy!"

"Yeah?" was all he could say, grunting as he felt himself getting closer. Her body was tightening, bracing, nearly ready to release the day's worth of frustrations. "You like that?"

"YESSS, I fucking do, fuck yes just like that, Henry, keep going, fuck me, YES!" she babbled through gritted teeth as he pounded her harder into the hardwood. He let her head easily fall back down, but she forced her face into the floor, almost encouraging him to smash it further as she let out groan after groan.

Carefully, he pushed his hand against her head, grinding her with a little more force each time he thrust himself inside her, and he could feel the excitement in her building -- just as much as he could hear it in her grunts. Every muscle in her body was screaming out, and then she followed suit, holding on by a thread.

"Yes-yes-yes ahhhhh Henrrryyy--do... ahhh... make me fucking cum, Henry," she said, desperate to orgasm. It seemed like she was going to tell him to do something but had thought better of it.

She knows I'm too much of a... that I... I...

He yanked her left arm back, forcing even more of their combined weight onto her face. She moaned as she slipped a little, but he held her up, pinning her arm behind her.

Then he slammed himself as deep inside her as he could go, tugging her arm up further than was comfortable -- and dug his nail into the fresh tattoo on her wrist. She screamed out in surprise, pain and -- he hoped -- mostly pleasure.

Finally Cameron shuddered on his cock and let loose the full-body orgasm she'd needed in wave after wave.

He spasmed inside her in response, letting go of her arm to steady her at the hips as he bucked into her, emptying himself inside his girlfriend.

They both groaned as they finished, and he leaned over her back, catching his breath. Henry could feel her panting sharply underneath him. Gingerly, he took himself out of her, covered in their mingled juices, and leaned against the couch so his weight wasn't on her.

Cameron turned to him as he rocked back to sit, and she kissed him -- deeply, passionately -- her hand cradling his cheek. She looped a leg over him, straddling him to get into better position, and she kissed him again, with even more care this time as she held both his cheeks in her hands.

"It's okay," she whispered into his mouth, slowly letting her tongue calm his, her hand running across his cheeks and through his hair. "Thank you."

He ran his own hands over her body, still recovering its breath while she sat on his lap. Her face was glowing, strands of her jet-black hair matted to her reddened forehead, and her steel-blue eyes bright in the dim illumination.

"It's okay. Really," he said, kissing her back now. And it was... he was pretty sure it was.

Yeah. It's... it's fine. It's okay.

She echoed his thoughts again, whispering the same thing to him while she held him tightly. He could feel himself getting hard again underneath her, both of them still warm and wet where their bodies met.

Without a word, she swiveled herself against him as he grew beneath her, sliding her lithe body against his length.

Cameron kissed his neck tenderly, arms wrapped around him, and raised herself up -- then down onto his waiting shaft. He groaned as he entered her again, his eyes fluttering open and closed.

Henry held her close, by the hips, thrusting up into her as best he could. She moved herself up and down again and again, building back his erection in no time as he looked down at her incredible, taut young body bouncing in his lap.

"I love the way you touch me, Henry," she whispered into his ear, nibbling his earlobe with her lips.

He felt a rush pour through him, suddenly close to exploding again, and moaned in return.

Was it her saying my name? Or just hearing her say that other word so close to it?

"Cum for me Henry," she purred into his ear, sliding faster on him, with purpose.

As she kissed his lips with equal intention, grinding into him, Henry let himself go, unable to return her kiss while he groaned into her mouth. He bucked into her while she rode him through another orgasm, loosing another rope inside her.

Cameron moaned lightly while she absorbed everything he unloaded into her, slowly milking the last spasms from him while she kissed him softly along his lips, his chin, his jaw.

"It's okay," she whispered, pulling him tighter against her. "You're okay."

This time, Henry wasn't sure if she was talking to him, or herself.

And he wasn't sure which one of them needed to hear it more.

~~~

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