Beneath

13 PERSONAL TRAINER

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. "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. "Some fucking mother, she's got."

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 grips 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.

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, shovelling food into his mouth.

"Morning," I grumble, sliding into a chair. Fox turns and slides a plate of eggs in front of me. We won't talk about yesterday.

School today blurs into a monotonous drone. I hand in an essay but the words on the paper feel like they were written by someone else.

After my last class, I wander the aisles of a health store, searching for something special for Cam. My fingers brush against various items until the idea comes to me.

Back at the apartment, I cook chicken parm for the guys. Fox watches me push food around on my plate. Jed asks for seconds.

I leave as soon as possible.

It's 7:45 PM when I make it to the place. I watch the entrance, thinking about her somewhere inside.

Yesterday, surrounded by books and dust, Camila broke my heart. I wonder how many times my heart's going to break for this girl.

I rub a hand across my jaw, feeling a hint of stubble from the day. I have a bouquet in hand. Well, not a bouquet of flowers. This one's unique like her.

I adjust the gift in my hand—high-quality protein bars stuck and layered into a flower holder, wrapping paper all around. I had to ask the guy at the supplement store what the highest quality ones were. He was eager to help.