Beside

22 - flames (part 2)

"Fox, if you could be anywhere, where would you be?"

"Here."

"No, I mean somewhere far where you could fly."

"I know. I pick here."

ᖴO᙭

Walker strikes me as the guy who talks loud at a football game, even if no one else is. The one who sizes up everyone in a room and knows within five seconds who he could take down. I can already tell he's insufferable, and we haven't exchanged more than five words.

Whitney's a little easier to tolerate. I get why Chris likes her. She knows all about what's been going on between me and Chris—that wasn't hard to discern. She's the one Chris is on the phone with every time she's squealing loud enough to wake the dead at night.

Walker's been talking about his work—construction—and Cam's been talking (raving) about Noah's thesis work while he tries to cover her mouth.

Whitney, tucked into Walker's side, smiles as Cam talks. Faro's reading the label on his beer bottle. I've got one eye on Chris sitting on the ground petting Charlie. She's got two little pink bow clips in her hair that match her sweater.

Cam stands, stretching her arms up to the sky. "I'm gonna get more firewood."

Walker stands too, all chest-puffed. "Let me. I'll only need one trip."

Cam's face scrunches up, but I know Walker doesn't mean anything by it. Her issue is she always feels like she's got something to prove. It's exhausting watching her try so hard.

Walker kisses Whitney's head and saunters into the trees alone.

Cam's pulled back into Noah's lap, scowling. Noah kisses her neck. She's still glaring into the forest.

I bite my lip, nearly chuckling. She's insulted.

Whitney stays quiet for a second, watching her man go. Then she turns to Faro. "Officer Wyatt?"

Faro slides his eyes to her, waiting.

"How long have you been a cop?"

Everyone's watching the two, curious. I roll my eyes. They all think Faro's going to ignore her, but he won't. He's a dick, but he's not an asshole.

"A while."

Whitney keeps going. "Okay, so how old are you?"

"Don't remember."

I snicker, shaking my head.

Whitney leans closer. "You went right out of high school, didn't you."

He nods once, his bottle still untouched in his hand.

"Did you always want to be a cop? How'd you just... know that you'd be good at it?"

Faro doesn't respond. I could've warned her that would happen.

I take a long swig of my beer, tuning out Whitney's chatter. She's intrigued by Faro, but she's not gonna get much out of him. Cam's learned this, too.

I glance at Chris, and I'm about to crack a joke when I notice her eyes fluttering. Pale—she's too pale.

"Chris," I whisper. She flinches slightly, holding her head like she's trying to keep it from spinning.

Whitney's voice cuts out and she's up in an instant, kneeling in front of Chris. She cups her face, tilting it up. "What's wrong?"