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
I drop the lease and press my palms against my temples, trying to force my brain to think, to figure out what to do.
Nope. Nothing there anymore.
Maybe the well is dry.
Fox steps into the living room, his face blank, staring at the door Mrs. Bucket just slammed shut. "Did she call you chica?"
I don't even have the energy to grunt. I don't remember. I don't care.
I rub my temples, trying to ease the headache that's been building for the last three months.
He peeks at me, then away, like he's not sure if he should say something or just shut the hell up. I wish he'd decide already. I don't have it in me to deal with this silence, either.
He eventually moves, stepping over to the answering machine on the counter. The little red light is flashing, winking like it's mocking me. A fucking cherry on top of this shit sundae.
Fox picks up an overlooked rose from the table next to the machine. I hadn't even noticed it was there. Jesus.
He stares at it for a second, then puts it down carefully. He presses the play button on the answering machine, and a robotic beep fills the room.
"Hey, Cam. I—um, I don't know how to say this. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean for things to end up this way. You've been so good to me, and I—I need some space to figure things out, and I got this opportunity, so I'm taking it. It's... it's a good thing for me, I think. I can't keep paying rent here, I hope you understand. You'll land on your feet. You always do. And Cam...tell Fox—tell him I'm sorry."
The message cuts off with another beep.
Fox doesn't move. He's just staring at the answering machine.
I can't believe it. Really. I mean, there's shitty, and then there's this.
"This is actually hilarious, you know that?" I say, louder than I expect. I let out a laugh that echoes off the walls. "It's funny."
Fox huffs a small laugh, one of those pathetic, hollow ones that you do when you have nothing else left. "Yeah."
I tug off my sweater, feeling the cold hit my skin through my tank top. I head to the kitchen, yanking the bottom drawers open one by one, searching for the cheapest alcohol we've got. My fingers dig through dusty bottles, old cans of soup, and half-used cleaning supplies. I find the giant plastic bottle of vodka shoved in the back.
Bingo.
I walk out of the kitchen, the bottle heavy in my hand, and head straight to Maddie's room. The door is already open from when we checked earlier.
I grab the edge of the mattress and flip it with all the strength I have. It slams against the wall. The bed frame creaks and topples back down.
I slide down the opposite wall, facing the chaos, and crack open the seal on the vodka. The sharp scent of it fills my nose, and I take a long gulp, wincing as it seethes down my throat.
