''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.
Wav...
"I'm gonna be a doctor. I'm gonna protect everybody."
"But what about me?"
"I'll save you first, Jellybean."
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ᖴO᙭
Blood trickles down my face as I stalk out of the elevator, feeling every damn drop slip down over my chin. Cameron got me good. Not just a hit—no, he split my fucking eyebrow open.
Fucking fool.
I wasn't even supposed to train with that dumbass. But Camila was too busy to show up, having fun and going shopping. That's what Noah said, anyway, and until Camila, I'd never heard him defend someone so fast in his life.
So instead, I got Cameron, bulky and eager and dopey, and now I'm bleeding like I've never seen a fight before.
I stand outside the door to the apartment, head throbbing, that dull ache settling in behind my eyes. Med school starts in the fall, and I can't have shaking hands. Not with the precision I'll need. Can't fix a heart with fucked-up fingers. I clutch my fists tight, feeling the sting stretch cracked skin.
Then I open the door.
And holy fuckity fuck.
Chris and Cam are milling around the kitchen island, laughing, smiling, unpacking paper bags of groceries. Like they've been friends since birth. Chris is going on about something—something like jeans not having pockets.
Cam shouts, "I fucking know! I steal Noah's shit all the time. It's so much more comfortable."
Chris giggles, this light innocent sound. She's wearing a pink skirt that falls to her knees and a baby blue sweater. She looks like cotton candy. Something ugly twists in my gut. It's like salt on the wound that's still seeping blood down my face.
Cam didn't show up. I'm bleeding, and she's laughing with Chris like I didn't just get knocked around by some young punk who thinks he's the next big thing. She's my coach.
Cam notices first. Her eyes flick to the blood dripping down my face, and she smirks. "Aw, poor Freckles got a boo-boo. Didn't know sparring with Cameron meant you wanted to look like him too," she quips, tossing me a bag of frozen peas.
I catch it mid-air, jaw tight.
Chris glances up, and her whole face changes. The laughter dies, replaced by this wide-eyed, genuine crisis. "Oh my god, what happened?" She's already dropping a box of cereal and rushing around the island, reaching out like she's gonna fix me.
I step back, jaw tight. "What are you doing."
She freezes, her hand falling limp at her side, cheeks flushed red. "Oh. Sorry. Um...I don't know."
