"Earth to Liv!" Simone plops on the couch next to me with a freshly filled glass.
I, on the other hand, need to stop drinking because I'm obviously seeing things.
"There's no–how?"
"Yeah, only you would meet one of the biggest names in professional football, behave like the rudest person ever, insult everything they stand for, and then, worst of all, not even recognize them."
I glare at my best friend, and I feel something awfully far from endearment for her. And I didn't insult everything he stands for, definitely at least 50%, but no need to focus on that.
"All in a day's work, Olivia Baker. Who's ego do you plan on crushing tomorrow?" She giggles as she takes a sip of her drink. Always a laugh at my expense.
I down my mimosa in one swift gulp, and even though his commercial has long left the screen, I can't help but feel as though I'm still watching him— he's still watching me.
My phone buzzes, and I lazily raise it to my ear. I don't have to look at the screen. I know it's Cam, my Cameron. My kind and patient Cameron. My Cameron who waited in the shadows because I wasn't ready to be loved the way he was capable of loving me. My Cameron, who fixed everything he never broke. My best friend.
The thick silence that follows as I answer his call is louder than every disaster that tore the life out of what was once Liv and Cam. In the arguments, at least, there was something that resembled communication.
"Hi," I whisper. His exhale of relief is almost the breath that fills my lungs.
"I left you." His voice is so hushed—his tone fragile.
"You left me." My hold on the phone tightens because if I just hold on a little tighter—if we just...
"I came back for you, Olivia." There's a plea that eviscerates every layer I put up since he walked out of the door—our door. He's Cam—my Cameron.
"You came back." And the 'for me' is logged in my throat, fighting to claw its way free. I'm here, but am I here with him? He's Cam, Liv. Cameron.
"Can we meet? South Block, maybe?"
It's my favorite. It was our favorite. I owe it to those kids who were so in love to at least talk to him face-to-face, right? I owe it to the smile that's the lock screen on my phone. That girl was the happiest she's ever been, and if she's got a chance, I should fight for her, right?
My heart begins to race, and I think about that same girl who felt the life drain from her every organ when she opened the computer and saw the admission email from Hopkins. Duke or UNC. We'd talked about it extensively. Neither was particularly far from Charlotte, where I'd been offered my dream job post-college. Both were exceptionally incredible medical schools. Cam was a Yale grad with a 3.9 GPA and more logged contact hours than an average M2. He would pick his med school, they wouldn't pick him, and we had chosen UNC or Duke; for me, for him— for us.
"It's Hopkins." Those were the only words he'd offered me as my world shattered into a million pieces. I was already so unstable. It had been a little rough for him and even tougher for me. He was trying hard enough for both of us. I was lost. I wanted it all, and I know it'd been a rough few months, but I was as much in love with him as I'd ever been. I hadn't given up. I never would have.
And I know what Hopkins means. I would never have asked him to turn down an opportunity like that, but we were supposed to be a team, right? How could I not even have known that he applied? We had a plan.
"I can't save you from yourself, Liv. And I'm afraid I'm killing myself trying to." He uttered those words to me, his bags at our front door. My eyes fluttered shut as pain slid down my throat. My screams wouldn't live here anymore. I'd sobbed until my throat failed me. I'd pleaded as I watched him continue to fail me. He pressed his lips ever so gently to my dampened lashes as my lips trembled, and for a fleeting breath of time, we were okay. We were Cam and Liv. Olivia and Cameron. And if time could've frozen at that very moment, our story would have never held grief and loss.
