His lips trail down my neck, sending shivers all over.
"I love looking at you," he breathes, brushing the hair off my shoulders. "Will you let me look at you?"
My heart hammers, a wild thing seeking his. "Yes."
So he does. And I feel it. For a long...
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........................................ NOAH
The apartment door clicks shut behind us.
Jed floats away to his room. He doesn't know the depth of what happened. I'm not sure I want him to.
Fox paces into the living room.
He sits on the couch, knee bouncing. He gets up, stalks to the kitchen, turns around, then finally looks at me. "It's in our fucking rental agreement. No pets. No birds, cats, bunnies, dogs."
He runs a hand through his hair then pulls off his jacket, throwing it to the floor. "Some fucking mother, she's got."
His mother was just as bad. That's why this hurts him so much.
I wish I could tear away Cam's pain with my bare hands. Not being able to do anything about it is personal in a way that scrapes at my insides.
"She just wants her fucking dog," Fox says. He's gripping his hair like he might be able to pull solutions from his scalp. "What the fuck is its name? Jack? Chuck? Charlie, right?"
Fox slumps against the counter. His chest heaves as if he's run miles. "Fucking parents. Fuck."
Among us three—Jed, Fox and myself—I count myself lucky. I grew up admiring my mother, and respecting my father. I was loved. I still am.
Fox, his little sister Gwenevere, and his older brother Faro, were very unlucky. Jed missed out too. His relationship with his father just... wasn't.
Fox picks up his jacket from the floor, pointing it at me. "If you fucking hurt her, Noah..."
I stare at my best friend, waiting. Soon, he realizes that he doesn't have to say this. He realizes I'm not like his dad, and neither is he. We are better men.
Fox lowers his hand, breathing tight through his nose. "I'm going to bed. If Maddie calls, I'm sleeping."
Then he's gone, leaving me alone in the living room, surrounded by all of our shadows.
I made everything worse. I opened up about pressures, fears. Selfish—that's what it was. Camila was hurting, and I piled my own shit onto her. As if she needs more to carry.
There's this gnawing feeling, the need to be seen by her. I just want her to know me, so I leaned too heavily on her willingness to listen. Fucking selfish.
Guilt peaks around the door in the dark corner with a sick smile, waving slowly at me.
I don't sleep much.
......
The next day, I wake to dust motes dancing in sunbeams. Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffle downstairs. Fox is at the stove, spatula in hand. Jed is already seated at the table, shoveling food into his mouth.
