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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————————————— C A M I L A
There's a distinct difference between liking thrift stores and needing thrift stores. I've been on both sides.
Kits Thrifts smells like a mix of old books and bed bugs. It's cozy in a way. A little musty, though.
The Halloween section is exploding in a mess of orange and black. Maddie's on a tangent about Fox—apparently, he talks about music like it's his job.
"But seriously, Cam, his vinyl collection is droll. It's only orchestra music. He's obsessed with piano, but he can't even play! Who has a piano in their apartment if they can't play?"
"Yeah, I don't know." I flip through a rack of clothes that have seen better decades. My fingers trail over denim, pausing on a blue pair of jeans with rainbow stripes down the sides. I haven't worn jeans in years.
"Like, apparently he had a childhood best friend or something and that's why he got a white piano? He won't talk about it, though. It's driving me nuts. I think it's a girl. I have this feeling. What if he's in love with her?"
"Yeah, I don't know." I tug the jeans out, the fabric well-worn beneath my fingertips. They're vintage bellbottoms.
"You should try those on," Maddie says. "Very retro."
"Yeah." I hang the jeans back up. "I don't know."
My mind is occupied.
Fire Base. Motherfucking Dylan. That slimy, slimy grin.
What the hell am I supposed to do? I'm stuck.
"Cam?" Maddie's holding up a sparkly purple dress that looks like it belongs on a 70s dance floor. "This is perfect for the Halloween party. Paige will love it."
Fuck, Paige is coming? Does that mean the other triplets are too? Adam better not show up or I'll be making an appearance as a baseball player with his head at the goddamn ball.
I give Maddie the thumbs up. She beams, happy I agree with...whatever it was she said.
I need that management position, but every move I make feels like a slip deeper into quicksand. How am I supposed to prove myself when I'm constantly undermined? How can I operate as normal with that threat hanging over my head? I couldn't even deny it; they'd never believe me.
And really, I fucked up. I broke the rules.
Maddie prattles on about Fox and their latest date. Something about a jazz club. Or maybe a sex club. I nod along.
I need to figure this out. I need to find a way to rise above all this crap and get that job. For me. For my future. For everything I've worked so damn fucking hard for.
We drift toward the sunglasses and purses, a mismatched. I pick up a pair of bright flower-shaped sunglasses, the lenses so dark I wonder if they're meant to hide the wearer's eyes. Slipping them on, I catch our reflection in a nearby mirror—Maddie, all bright and hopeful, and me, hidden behind a pair of shades.
