sweet//cameron dallas

"bostons only twelve hours away."

I slowly open the last letter, my hands shaky. It didn't feel like the rest of the letters. It felt a bit heavier. I peek inside the envelope, and take out the small picture. It was a Polaroid of her and Cameron. He looked a bit younger, maybe two or three years. He was smiling at her, and she was smiling at the camera. Her nose was all scrunched up, her eyes crinkled. She was so happy. So was he. She was also so, so, so gorgeous. Pretty brown eyes, wavy brown hair. They looked like the perfect couple. I flip the Polaroid over and stare at the same lovely script that was written in the letters.
dear cameron,
this is my favorite picture that has ever been in existence. Keep it. It's yours.
by the time you're reading this, I am dead.
tender, love, and care.
                            Rebecca
"Oh my god." I whisper. She killed herself? She killed herself because she wasn't with Cameron.
"Oh my god.." I whisper again. I shakily dump the envelope upside down. A big wad of money falls out, and it's secured with a rubber band. A post it is stuck to it, and her handwriting  is written on it.
you're too late. but, for when you're ready.
I stare at it, my lip quivering.
"What the-" I start. I couldn't finish my words. I couldn't. I didn't understand. She killed herself because she couldn't see Cameron, yet she moved away from him? It didn't make sense. Not one bit. So I grabbed my phone and called him.
"Hello?" He answers. He sounded tired.
"Hi." I breathe.
"Where are you? I have questions."
"Well, my dear. I'm sure id love to answer your questions. I'm at the hospital. I stayed the night." He says.
"Alright. I'll be there in ten." I say. I have my mother drive me down to the hospital, and she drops me off at the doors. I make my way to the fourth floor, and see an ash. He was sitting in one of the waiting chairs, his head pressed against a window. He was asleep. I sit down next to him and rub his arm.
"Hey. You okay?" I whisper to him. His eyes slowly open, and at the sight of me he smiles.
"Hey." He smirks. I take out the wad of cash from my pocket, and place it on his lap, along with the picture.
"He...how...you can't know about this." Nash whispers to me.
"Well I know. I know everything." I tell him. His fingers tips ran across the money, across the note, across her writing. A tear falls onto the small picture, and he looks away.
"He didn't want you to know. He was over her, for a while."
"Then what happened?"
"He met you." He chuckles a bit, wiping the tears. It's silent for a minute.
"She was amazing." He says.
"Nicest girl on the planet. I don't know who, or how this all happened. I never had the guts to finish those letters. You do, though." He said.
"Do you want me to tell you?" I ask him. He shakes his head, puffing out air.
"I've seen the video." He says. He rubs his eyes.
"It was so horrific. It was so terrible. And the worst part was, Cameron and I could not stop it. We couldn't do anything to help her. We tried for two years to break the rumors. Two years. But they didn't believe us because of Shawn." He says.
"He showed everyone the video of him raping her. It went viral, basically. Everyone saw it."
"He should be in jail." I say.
"Oh he was. For about twenty seven hours, shawn was locked up behind bars. Until his rich father bailed him out. A $45,000 dollar bail, and his father bailed him out. Son of a bitch." He mutters. He crosses his arms and puts his feet up on the small coffee table.
"Why didn't he ever drive down there and talk to her mother, or the friends she had made?"
"Too painful. He skipped school for about five months, then came back and didn't talk to anyone. Not even me. Saddest thing I ever watched, besides that tape." He says.
"What if I went with him to Boston?"
"Well... He's going to be pretty mad at you for stealing those letters. Maybe in six weeks you guys can go. Spring break, or something." He says. I nod, and hold Nash's hand.
"You know? Once he met you he was finally happy. His grades were good, health was good. You know he didn't eat for a while. No appetite. He was heart broken." He says. He looks at my, gripping my hand tightly.
"That's why he's so good to you, lily. He doesn't want you to get hurt. That's why he doesn't want you with shawn. You see, my friend? Cameron? There's only one other girl he has treated this nightly. Do you know how many girls he was with after her? After his six months of depression, do you know how many blow jobs he got?" He says. I laugh, and so does he.
"Lucky bastard." He laughs. He stands up from the chair, and pulls me up with him.
"I'm going to go with you to his house, and you're going to tell him. He's going to be angry at you, mentally, verbally physically mad at you. That's why I'm going to be there with you. So he doesn't hurt you." He smiles. I hop in next to him, buckling up in his pickup truck. It's a short drive to Cameron's house. About eight minutes or so. I step out of the car and walk with Nash to his door, him in front of me. Nash rings the doorbell, and his mother appears behind the screen door. She smiles at us, not letting us in yet.
"Sorry kids. He's not feeling well." She says. I start walking back, but Nash grabs my shoulder and turns me around.
"Mrs.Dallas, I have know Cameron all my life, and he has never been not feeling well. He is lying, and you're carrying the lie out to us. He's probably looking at us now, from his window, laughing at how foolish we are to think he's actually sick." He says, crossing his arms over his chest. She smiles at us, and opens the door.
"Such a smart boy." She whispers. We rush up the stairs, and lightly knock on Cameron's door. No reply. We push it open, and he's lying on his bed, shirtless. He was only in his boxers, and his hand was down his shorts. He couldn't hear us due to his earbuds. He was biting his lip, and his foot was shaking. I laugh and turn around, trying not to spoil his fun. I hate to say it after reading those letters, but he looked quite hot with his hand down his pants. Nash shakes him, making Cameron open his eyes from squinting. He quickly pulls the earbuds out and sits up on the bed. You could still hear the faint hearts on fire by passenger playing. The music was probably up at full blast. I turn around and look at Cameron, his eye brow twitched up a bit. Nash takes a seat on the computer chair, and I sit next to Cameron on the bed. He was still shirtless, and was still only wearing his boxers. What a little tease. I pull the money out of my pocket, and place it in his hand, along with the picture. He looks at it for a second, comprehending what it was.
"It's been missing for days..." He says.
"Where did you did you find this? I swear I'm going to kill the bastard who stole this fro-"
"It was me." I say. He looks at me, staring at my face. He then moves to my eyes. His eyes had such disappointment in them. Like he was my father, and he was mad at me for such a horrid grade.  The soft grip that was just on my wrist turns into a hard squeeze, and I try to pull away from him.
"Cameron! Stop!" I plead. Nash quickly pulls him back from me, and I stand up and back away from the bed. My back was pressed against the closet door, and Cameron was coming towards me. I've never seen him so angry. Nash held him back for a bit, occasionally telling him that it was okay, and to take it easy. He finally stopped, and just stared at me.
"God damn it..." He says, tears in his eyes.
"She looks like her. She fucking looks too much like her, and I can't afford to kill someone else." He says, sitting back down on the bed.
"You didn't kill her. You had noth-"
"Yes I did. I fucking had everything to do with it. I was getting the letters. I saw that she needed me. I didn't go. I was so depressed when she moved. God. I was such a bastard for not going to her. She needed me." He says, running his hands through his hair.
"Oh my fucking God." He whispers. He rubs his face with his hands, and looks to Nash.
"Can you grab me a water? And one of those useless anxiety pills?" Cameron says, motioning for Nash to go to the bathroom. I watch him grab a water bottle, and pour two pills out of the container. He sits next to him, handing him the pill and water. He throws it in his mouth and washes it down.
"Haven't had to use those in years." He says.
"Look. I understand you're mad about me taking the letters and everything, but i told you in the beginning. I'm c-"
"Curious. I know." He says, taking another sip of water.
"Why don't you grow a pair and go talk to her mother, huh?" I ask him. He stands up and walks in front of me, his face only centimeters away from mine.
"Fine. We leave in 48 hours." He says, gritting his teeth. Nash pulls his shoulder back a bit, and looks at him.
"Are you sure man? You don't have to do this? You're gonna be a wreck." He tells him. He looks at the was of money, then nods.
"Then I'm coming too." He says, patting my back.
"You two are going to kill each other on that train ride."
"Boston's only twelve hours away." I say.
"Yes. Twelve. Long. Hours. With two people who like each other but won't admit it!" Nash says.