"Fox, the world looks blurry from up here."
"Maybe you're just going too fast. Want to slow down?"
"No, it's not that. Everything's been blurry lately."
"Should we tell someone? Like a teacher—"
"No, it's okay. I like our blurry world. Just don't let go, okay?"
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
c h r i s
The morning feels like a fever dream, even after Whitney sent me off with a green tea in hand and a kiss on the head for good luck.
I drag two battered suitcases out of the taxi, staring up at the gleaming blue-glass skyscraper stretching up into the clouds like a modern fairy tale. My new home.
The doorman with a handlebar moustache raises an eyebrow as I stumble past, suitcase wheels clattering over the polished marble floors of the lobby. I step into the elevator and punch the button for the 74th floor. The doors slide shut, sealing me inside, and shoot me up, up, up.
The elevator chimes.
Out I step, turning left. I rub my palms on my jeans and stop before the fifth unit, the 5 etched in gold.
I raise my fist. Knock-Knock. And I wait.
The door swings open.
A tall girl stands in a white hoodie and sweats with wild, dark curls bursting around her head like a thunderstorm. Her nose is a little crooked, her skin's golden, and she's blinking at me with big, dark eyes.
"You're really pretty," we both blurt out at the same time.
The words hang there, sparkling between us in bits of confetti. And then we're both blushing, cheeks turning pink like we're little kids caught passing notes in class.
"I'm Camila, but call me Cam," she says, grinning. There's a little gap between her front teeth. "Welcome to the circus, Chris."
I step through the doorway, and it's like walking into another world.
White leather couches stretch out in bright daylight. Some of the floor is marble, shimmering like water under the light streaming in from balcony doors, and a massive white piano sits before the windows against the skyline, its keys glinting.
"We're not, like, snobs or anything." Cam laughs, pulling at the neck of her sweater. "Well, I guess we try not to spill too much on the couches." She points to the boxes in the kitchen. "Jed's moving out today. He's got one foot out the door and the other stuck in the Milky Way. I basically packed for him."
How are the ceilings this high in an apartment?
The door swings open. A guy steps in, wearing only running shorts, a wall of muscle and sweat glistening on bronze skin, his breath coming in quick bursts. One deep laceration slashes across his face, cutting from the corner of his eyebrow down to the edge of his lip.
God, that scar. It demands attention. Looks so, so painful. It's all I can see, no matter how hard I try not to look. It's like my eyes keep being dragged back to it, over and over, tracing the jagged, angry line.
"Hey," he says, the word rough and a little breathless. I drop my eyes.
Shoot, I was staring. And I think Cam noticed.
YOU ARE READING
Beside
Romance''Tell me how it feels,'' he whispers. "Good," I gasp, my entire body trembling. Deeper. Harder. Perfect. Like we've been doing this for years. His hand finds my jaw, fingers firm as he tilts my head up, making me look at him. And that's it. Waves...
