Cameron Taylor is an independent, strong-willed girl who happens to have a knack for violence. After completing her junior year at UCLA, she's not looking forward to spending a Summer at home. Besides having a dark past that she keeps locked away fr...
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Waking up on Friday morning, I feel like shit.
It might be because of the drinks Theo convinced me to have with him last night to "get rid of nerves for the mission," as he put it.
It could be caused by the lack of sleep that I got because every time I closed my eyes, I saw Cam's, my dad's, or my sister's dead body.
Or it could be because I've spent the majority of the last 24 hours with my annoyingly gorgeous partner.
After we all eventually passed out on Thursday night, we woke up to Jackson kicking his fuck buddy out of the building. We all promptly screamed and cursed at him for putting us through that shit. For the rest of the day, I spent every hour with Cameron. We had our private lesson with Mr. Lewis to make up for the lesson today, in which I learned Cameron isn't just good at throwing knives. She's a fucking mastermind at fighting with them.
She's got the best technique I've ever seen, that I'll even admit is better than mine. When Mr. lewis voiced my thoughts and asked her where she learned and why, she said she took a few classes, figured the rest out on her own, and practiced a lot just for fun. When she said the last part, she got that dark look on her face that only comes out with the mention of certain things.
It had reminded me of the night before when Maya asked what the worst thing she'd ever done was. The second she heard that question, I could see the mask she slipped on to cover her panic. If someone had been looking close enough, like I was, they could've seen the slightly faster rise and fall of her chest. They'd see the way her amused, neutral face had dropped into the blankest of expressions. They'd see the way her eyes glazed over as if reliving something, and her rapid blinks to get the images away.
I saw all of it.
That's why I stepped in. To take everyone's eyes off of her. I know what panic and anxiety looks like and I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy. But her reaction did make me wonder. What could be so bad that she responds like that?
After that brief memory, I was pushed back into reality when Mr. Lewis said we were done. We went to our next classes and ate a silent lunch together, in the same room without killing each other, might I add. After some extra training for the mission on both of our parts, we met the others for dinner, which led to Theo keeping me up late to drink with him and Jackson.
And that's where I am now. Tired, sore as fuck, irritated and slightly hungover.
What a way to start a mission.
I drag myself out of bed and grab some clothes, only to hear the bathroom is already occupied.
Now I could be a dick and bang on the door, demand for her to hurry up, and project my pissy attitude onto her. But I like our current truce to not be awful to each other and I'd like to keep my balls from being bruised. I also have this nagging feeling inside of me to take her feelings into consideration, a voice yelling at me to open my eyes and see that the blank look she gets every so often is the same one I get when I'm shutting my emotions off.
