The Bet

36) Back Again

Camila's POV

Not even a day later, the sound of a knock at my door interrupted me mid sip. I glared at it from my couch as I finished the last sip of my wine. It tastes like raspberry and guilt.

"If you're not Samira, fuck off!" I groaned. I've contributed what I will to the hunt for Adam tonight.

  Another knock came, giving me pause mid poor. It's either an idiot with a death wish or. . . Samira.

The thought alone had me striding toward the door, and I couldn't throw it open soon enough. On the other side was none other than the woman that's been on my mind for the last few hours. Well, really she's been on my mind for the past few months, but it's been especially prevalent since I chased her off and made her cry.

"Sam," I breathed.

  "Cam! Hi, hello, Cam." she giggled.

  She's drunk.

"Have you ever noticed our nicknames rhyme?" She continued, cheeks red and words slurred. "I have. I think it's cute." Her smile fell. "At least I did, before you made me sad."

  I felt my face turn from one of surprise and relieved confusion to the way it's been all night. The face of a guilty woman in need of a drink.

  Looks like Angel has been in the same boat, minus the guilty part.

  "Again, I'm really sorry, but how did you get here, Angel?" Don't say you drove, don't say you drove.

  I watched her pout turn into a glare. Despite my guilt, that sparked something inside of me. It wasn't an expression I was used to seeing on her until today, but I must admit, I'd prefer her anger over her sad puppy dog eyes. "Bus, and I mean, at first I was sad but then I was angry, and I thought to myself that I shouldn't be angry at myself, I should be angry at you."

  Oh thank god she didn't drive.

"Yes you should, Love. I am so sorry I got you and Mickey into this mess. I —"

"Don't 'Love' me, wait, woah, no, do keep loving me, but don't cute pet name 'Love' me. I'm angry with you, not smitten." Her words spilled out like she didn't have any control over them, slipping out of her lips in a cute and clumsy manner.

I found myself wanting to tuck her into bed with a kiss on the forehead.

Luckily, even tipsy, I'm not foolish enough to think that would be the right move. She doesn't need to be coddled and taken care of, she needs to be listened to.

"I've got some things to say to you Camila Fuerte! And you are going to listen!" The Angel with cheeks as red as tomatoes said and pointed a wobbly finger at me sternly.

It would be easier to resist the urge to coddle her if she weren't stumbling into my house like an overgrown toddler at the moment, but no one said love would be easy.

  "Of course, Ang —" I cleared my throat before using another pet name, "Samira. Lay it on me."

  "Ugh good." She collapsed into my arms.

  Oh boy, I didn't mean literally. She must be really wasted. If we weren't in such a tense place I would tease her about it in the morning.

"First of all," she scrunched her eyebrows together while practically hanging off my shoulders, chest to chest.

I held in my sigh. It's gonna be a long night.

  Do her no physical contact rules apply if she's the one initiating it? My grip around her waist subconsciously tightened at the thought of not being able to touch her until Adam is dead and gone.