Bad Things

16. Let Me Stay

  Because I've never felt like this before
I'm naked
Around you
Does it show?
You see right through me
And I can't hide
I'm naked
Around you
And it feels so right

- Avril Lavigne

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This chapter earns a mature rating, just giving you lovelies a heads up.

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Shawn turned the pen over and over in his hand as he stared down at the scholarship acceptance documents in front of him. He'd touched the pen to the paper several times, leaving behind a black dot where the 'S' of his first name should begin, but couldn't bring himself to sign. He thrust his hand into his hair and let out a slow breath, before lowering his left hand once more. Still, he couldn't do it.

Dropping the pen to the desk he scrubbed his hands over his face. What the hell was he doing? Why couldn't he sign the God-damn paper? This was what he wanted. Him. Not his dad, him. This was all he'd thought about since he made the varsity team in ninth grade—maybe even before that. This was what he'd killed himself practicing for. NYU would afford him so many opportunities after he finished his college stint, both in a possible football career and in an outstanding education. So why couldn't he sign?

A soft sigh and a rustling came from behind him. Shawn turned and peered at the small figure sleeping on his bed. After they'd talked earlier, Camila had seemed so drained, so exhausted, she'd fallen asleep almost immediately. As much as he'd wanted to be with her, to hold her and kiss her and talk to her, he knew she needed rest more.

Shawn turned around and looked at the papers again. They stared back at him, their congratulatory tone screaming at him to just sign already. No, not yet. He pushed them away and stood from the desk. Turning, he fixed his gaze on Camila. He'd always been amazed at how little she was, how delicate and fragile she looked, but he knew better than anyone how strong she really was. He'd been certain, certain, she would freak at his news about the scholarship, that she would think he was going back on his word and leaving her like everyone else. But she did the exact opposite. And he had to admit, it hadn't made him as happy as he'd thought it would. It just made him more confused.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He crossed the room and stood for a moment at the edge of the bed. Camila lay all the way to the left side, facing the center. One of her hands was tucked under the edge of the pillow and the other lay draped over her side, the tips of her fingers brushing her stomach. Shawn lowered himself slowly to the mattress and stretched out beside her. His face was only inches from hers. Her eyes shifted beneath her lids as she dreamed, and a piece of hair fell across her face. Shawn lifted a hand and brushed the hair out of the way, tucking the strand behind her ear. His fingers lingered for a second then moved down the edge of her face, her neck, over her shoulder, and followed her arm to where her hand lay on her stomach. He rested his on top of hers, letting the warmth of her soak into his cool skin. With a sigh, he went to move his hand away but paused when he felt the small, firm bump under his fingers. His brows drew together, and carefully, he spread his hand over the expanse of her abdomen. It was the strangest sensation, feeling this thing he couldn't see and knowing he was the one that put it there. It was also the most frustrating thing that he couldn't remember doing it.