When Cami moves in with the 2 most popular guys in school in a new foster home placement, she realizes that her tragic past just might make it so that she will stay lonely forever.
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Cami has...
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He ignored me in the hallway today. Again.
It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did, but as I stared around at all the coupled up seniors making plans to go to college together after the school year was over, kissing and hugging and PDA'ing all over the place, I realized that I wanted that, too.
I had that, just not here. Not at school, not in public, not ever.
It was always in the soft quiet of his bedroom, in the afterglow of bliss and ecstasy as the steam off our bodies cooled and he tugged me into his side, fingers caressing the skin of my arms as I unloaded the things my foster parents had done that day and he shared his football stresses with me.
Every night of the week I'd stayed with him for two straight months, and while we weren't dating, we had made it very clear that we weren't seeing anyone else, either.
So why did he have his arm wrapped lazily around Leah Maren's shoulder in the hallway after blatantly ignoring me?
"Hello? Earth to Cami? Anyone in there?"
I flinched as my best friend's hand waved back and forth unceremoniously between herself and my eyes.
"Sorry, Mo. Just got distracted. What did you say?"
"I asked you if you were going to the elective field trip museum thing. You told me Friday you'd let me know if David or Nina signed the form, but you never got back to me."
I cringed at the sound of my foster parent's names coming from my best friend's mouth, but I hadn't informed her of how bad the situation at 'home' had gotten.
"The permission slip is in my bag and ready to go," I told her proudly, jutting my chin up and plastered a smile on my face that I really tried not to let slip as the person in question I couldn't take my eyes off of removed his arm from Leah's shoulder and instead began faux wrestling with his best friend.
Mo's dark, charcoal lined eyes twitched and crinkled at the edges, almost like she didn't believe me, but her doubt dissipated in a cloud of male testosterone and Axe Body Spray as her crush began sauntering toward us, in line with the rest of their friend group.
Suddenly, the air in my lungs froze, the oxygen frosted over with ice crystals that kept me from inhaling a single breath to keep my brain working properly.
Colton—my Colton—was making eye contact with me.
This is NOT a drill, I repeat—THIS IS NOT A DRILL!
I barely had a moment to register the cacophony of students blathering on with gossip or even pretend that I was busy with something at my natural mahogany wood locker (because of course the fancy rich prep school had to have wooden lockers) before Colton strolled down the hallways of Hartingrove Academy as if he owned the whole place.
