third person pov
The courtyard looked the same.
But Cameron didn't.
She stepped into the sunlight on Monday morning with gauze still wrapping her arm, painkillers dulling her shoulder, and two days of sleepless nights weighing down her eyes. But none of that mattered.
Everyone was staring.
They all knew.
About the car accident.
Avan was the first to approach her
He waited beside her by the lockers. Close enough for their sleeves to brush, but far enough for his silence to scream
She didn't stop him.
Because the truth was already written in the space between them.
"are you prepared for today's class?" Alan tried breaking the silence between them.
"I'm way too far behind" she said closing her locker
Then she saw him.
Alan.
Leaning against a locker, one foot propped behind him, blazer open, a cigarette tucked behind his ear..more for show than for smoke.
He looked up.
And he smiled.
Like nothing happened.
Like he hadn't sat beside her hospital bed and left a sketch that made her heart twitch
"Sunshine," he waved "Back from the dead?" he mocked
Cameron stared. "Do you always greet near-death survivors with sarcasm?"
"Only the pretty ones."
Cameron's Voice – First Person:
"God, he made it hard to think.
And maybe that's what I hated the most.
That even after everything…
I wanted to hear what he'd say next."
avan and Cameron walked together...slow, side by side...down the hallway to their classroom
Cameron tried to ignore the way his fingers brushed hers occasionally.
But he didn't touch her again.
Not like before.
Not yet.
At lunch, she sat alone under the olive tree. Avan came to sit beside her holding a tray of lunch.
she looked up "you look lost"
just then she locked eyes with Alan
he didn't approach her.
But he watched.
each time she glanced over, he was already looking.
Eyes dark.
Jaw tight.
That familiar smirk gone.
Like he wasn't just watching.
Like he was waiting.
***
By midweek, everything got better Cameron was no longer the topic
she and Alan barely said two's after then.
Avan was always her company making her laugh but then Cameron's dreams turned to flashes of bare skin, ink-stained fingers, and lips that never quite reached hers.
Until Friday.
When it finally cracked.
She stayed after class, cleaning up biology supplies alone. Her arm still ached. Her fingers fumbled with the glass slide in her hand.
It slipped.
Shattered.
Cameron swore softly and bent to pick it up.
That's when she heard the door creak.
Alan stood there, hands in his pockets, watching her.
"You okay?"
She didn't look up. "Fine."
He walked in slowly. Quietly. The door closed behind him with a click.
She felt the silence stretch.
Then he knelt beside her.
"You're bleeding."
She looked down. A small cut on her finger. Thin red line.
Before she could grab a tissue, he reached for her hand.
Held it gently.
Too gently.
Alan's Voice – First Person:
"Her hands were shaking,But she let me touch her.
And in that moment, I didn't want sex. Or victory. Or revenge.
I just wanted to be gentle,
For once in my god damn life."
third person pov
He brought her finger to his lips.
And kissed the blood away.
Soft. Slow.
Cameron froze.
She should've pulled back.
She didn't.
Instead, her breath caught.
Her knees almost buckled.
Her mouth parted.
And his eyes flicked up to hers.
Dark. Hungry.
And then
He stood up.
Let go of her hand.
"Sorry," he said, voice hoarse. "basic instinct" he let out an awkward laugh
She blinked.
"I'm not good at this," he added. "Whatever this is."
"Then stop playing," she whispered.
He stepped back. One foot. Then another.
And said nothing.
***
That night, she found another sketch in her bag.
curious she unfolded it
This time, it was just hands.
Her hand. His.
Fingers barely touching.
And underneath:
"There's something sacred about almost."
She closed her eyes.
And touched the paper like she could feel his skin again.