I sluggishly stood up from the floor, holding my broken butt like it was a national treasure. That jerk had left me stranded, and here I was—limping like a tragic character in a soap opera. I slung my backpack over my shoulder with the kind of dignity only someone holding their own rear could manage.
"That piece of jerk. Had the nerve to leave me stranded! Good-for-nothing piece of junk!" I muttered like a woman possessed.
Liam's car drove past, then screeched to a halt. Oh no. Not him. Please don't make this worse.
I kept walking, pretending I was deaf. Or insane. Either one would work.
"Hey!" he called. I ignored him. Nope. Not today, Satan.
"Navia!" he yelled again, his car crawling beside me like a stalker.
"What?" I snapped, finally stopping.
"Easy, girl. I just want to give you a lift. You look like you need help," Liam said.
One good thing about Liam: he's actually kind. Unlike some people. And let's be real—I wasn't about to limp all the way to Cameron's house like a wounded soldier. I was still holding my butt, by the way.
"Like I have a choice," I mumbled, not realizing he'd hear. But he chuckled, so I guess he did.
I climbed into his car, buckled my seatbelt—and instantly regretted it.
"Ouch! My butt still hurts!" I whined.
The silence in the car was deafening. He didn't even bother to put on music. Rude.
"What about your car?" he finally asked, shattering the awkward silence. I hoped he wouldn't talk, but no—he had to.
"I gave it to Isha. Cameron suggested I come over after school, so I figured he'd pick me up. But guess what? He ditched me! Can you believe that jerk drove past me?" I said, rolling my eyes with Olympic precision.
"Cameron can be nasty sometimes," Liam said with a little laugh. No kidding.
"Seems you know a lot about him," I said, watching the wind sweep his hair back as he casually brushed his shaggy bangs out of his eyes.
"Yeah, actually. His parents adopted me when I was four, right after my parents died. So he's more like a brother now."
"Oh. I'm sorry about your parents."
"It's okay. Not many people know, and I've made peace with it."
Liam was actually… cool. He could hold a conversation, and unlike Cameron, didn't act like he hated my existence. We kept talking—joking, switching topics. I found out he liked teasing me for everything. Not cool. But a little funny.
When he finally pulled into Cameron's compound, I was surprised. They lived together?
I got out of the car, and my eyes instantly locked on the flowers I'd murdered the day before. They'd been replaced with new ones already. The perks of being rich, I guess. Still—RIP to the crushed petals.
"Navia, come on in," Liam said, bringing me back to the reality of Cameron's ridiculously massive house.
Everything still smelled like him. That jerk.
Liam led me to Cameron's room and left. I sighed and knocked.
No answer.
I knocked again.
Still nothing.
On the fourth try, I was just about to twist the knob when the door suddenly opened—and I tumbled forward, headfirst, bumping into something. But instead of hitting the floor, I landed on that something which warm and solid.
Wait… this floor had abs?
OH. MY. GOD.
I had landed on top of a shirtless Cameron—with my lips on his.
I'm kissing Cameron.
CAMERON.
My brain short-circuited.
"What are you doing? Get the hell off me!" he growled, jerking his head to the side and disconnecting our lips.
I scrambled up, cheeks flaming. "I—I'm so sorry! I thought—" I choked on my apology, taking a half-step back. "I didn't know you'd be in here… without a shirt…"
He sat up and crossed his arms. "I'm not that guy."
"Clearly," I mumbled, running a hand through my hair. "Why didn't you answer?"
He stood and shut the door properly. "Wasn't expecting you for another 30 minutes."
"Oh, that's why you ditched me at school? So I could limp all the way to your house in this condition?" I asked, rolling my eyes so hard I nearly went blind.
He smirked and walked to his bookshelf.
Did I mention his room was massive? Like, king-sized bed, mini-fridge, mini-dining table, bookshelf, water dispenser—the works. Add "mini" in front of anything and it was probably in there.
I plopped on his bed and pulled out my history notebook.
"You done any research yet?" I asked.
He didn't answer. Just grabbed a milkshake from his fridge and started sipping like I wasn't even there.
"Seriously? Now you're gonna pretend I'm invisible?"
Still nothing.
"If I don't get my full 50 marks, I swear I'm going to kill you," I snapped.
He burst out laughing. I didn't see the joke.
"Oh, what're you gonna do? Trip and stab me mid-fall?" he teased.
Great. He noticed I trip a lot.
I rolled my eyes and pretended to pack up.
"Chill, girl. You're so serious," he said with a grin.
"Let's just get this over with," I groaned, walking over to his tiny dining set.
"I asked before—have you done any research?"
"On what?" he replied, blinking like an idiot.
"Our project, dummy!"
"Oh. That. Can't we just Google something before class and wing it?"
I gawked at him. "Yeah sure. Right after Mrs. Smith gives us a full zero and burns our names into her eternal hate list."
I sighed and started reading my notes. "So, apparently Brooklyn was one of the first cities formed after NYC—"
"Duh. Everyone knows that."
I glared. "At least I've done something. You just drink milkshakes all day and hope for miracles."
Tap tap. We both looked up.
"Come in," Cameron called.
Liam walked in wearing shorts and a tank top. I swear I heard a harp play. Kaisha might be onto something—he was hot.
"Snack time. You guys are welcome to join," he said casually, then left.
Cameron stood up. "I don't joke with meals. You coming?"
My stomach twisted like it was auditioning for a cooking show. But eat in front of them? What if I choke and die of embarrassment?
"No," I said coolly.
"Suit yourself." He walked out without a second thought.
Rude.
I tried to focus but my stomach betrayed me. Eventually, I caved, grabbed a water bottle from his fridge, and kept working.
Cameron returned—with snacks for me. Guess he wasn't a total demon.
We "worked" on the project. Okay, I worked. He mostly drank and criticized.
"What if we drew a map? Or maybe highlighted NYC's early development?" I suggested.
"Lame," he replied.
"What if we talk about America's future and how cool it'd be to have a woman president?" I joked.
"Waste of time."
I slammed my pen down. "I'm the only one with ideas!"
"Exactly. That's your job."
"My job? Are you kidding me? I'm only here for this project—I wouldn't be here for any other reason."
"Exactly. What other reason would you have to be in my house?"
I stared at him, fuming. "You know what? I'm done. You should get going."
"Gladly. Don't want my parents to worry," I added sarcastically. As if they'd notice I was gone.
Liam was downstairs.
"You leaving?" he asked.
"Yeah," I muttered.
"Cool. See you tomorrow."
I just waved and left. Thankfully, Cameron's place wasn't far.
*****************
"Honey, she's back!" Mom yelled as I entered.
"Where've you been?" she asked.
"At my project partner's house," I said coldly, drinking water.
"A friend's place?"
"He's not my friend!" I yelled, storming upstairs.
And guess what?
I tripped. Again. Same spot. Are these stairs cursed??
"Fuck," I muttered, under my breath this time. Thank God Mom didn't hear. I'm not dropping 20 bucks in the swear jar today.
I got up like nothing happened and marched to my room.
What. A. Day.