Spies&Thieves

unfriendly reminders

-ZACH-

I couldn’t stand it.

The way he looked at her not only made me angry as hell, it also made me question the way she looked at him. Yes, there was the protection I saw in her at all times… but there was more. I couldn’t put a finger on what I saw in her eyes when he smiled at her.

We walked back to the limo where Marcus, Hale’s butler, was calmly waiting. If he was surprised at the sight of a beat up Macey, still pissed-off Bex, a prince, a guard, and a new girl, he didn’t show it.

The car ride was silent until Macey rolled her big blue crystals and said, “Yes, I’m fine, thank you for asking. No, it doesn’t hurt that bad. Yes, some ice would be appreciated.”

Hale sighed and reached beside her to grab ice out of the drinks cabinet. He handed it to Macey in a towel, where she then pressed it to her temple. “Jesus, Cam. Next time, spare me the Malinski Maneuver. That was cruel.”

I watched Cammie’s reaction from the corner of my eye. Her cheeks turned crimson, but Bex laughed and said, “Oh, she’s pulled that one on her mother, Solomon, Liz, me a good sixteen times, and I’m assuming Zach has endured that one too?”

I smirked, “And much worse.”

Cammie let out half a laugh from where she sat. I met eyes with her, and in that one moment, all of the unspoken tension between us fell apart, and all that remained were unsaid hello’s and kisses left in the wind. I couldn’t bear it. How could I sit so Goddamn close to the girl I loved and not be able to have her in my arms and tell her in excruciating detail how much I had missed her. Her soft, faded green eyes gave away too much. She looked like she was about to say something, but then Grant leaned across his seat to Bex, whispering loudly, “Question: how long are you going to pretend to be mad at me before you realize you’re being very dramatic?”

Macey softly slapped his arm, “Don’t be an asshole about it, Newman.”

“British Bombshell over here knows I’m not kidding. Right, Rebecca?”

“Call me by my full name again and your head will turn into the shape of a bombshell.”

Cammie and Kat snorted in laughter. Bex, Macey, and I all watched them curiously. Once they noticed we were watching them, Cammie apologized, “Sorry. I had just forgotten Grant used to call you that, Bex.”

“What was your analogy again?” Grant asked, stumped. I held her gaze in amusement as I said, “Cammie the Chameleon.”

I watched Mason’s face transform into a smile. He looked down at her, and as if she were used to it, looked back up at him. The prince asked her, “Why ‘Chameleon’?”

Bex answered evenly, with no joking at all, “Because if Cammie doesn’t want to be found, she isn’t going to be. She blends into everything.”

“She doesn’t blend very much to me,” he said, noticing her grim expression. But the bastard wouldn’t know.

“Yeah? She blended pretty well when she ran away from the most secure school in the world, traveled to another continent, and stayed lost for a good three months. CIA, MI6, even some parts of Interpol— were not able to find her.” The words escaped me before I could prevent them from falling out.

Suddenly, Cammie started coughing. Coughing and shaking and shivering like I hadn’t seen in nine months. Guilt seized me by the throat. It threatened to hang me from a lamp post.

“Cam—Cammie, are you—” I started. She shook her head, sputtered, “I need air. Stop. Please, stop the car.”

Prince Mason was completely oblivious to the trauma she had encountered last summer. He just tried to hold her scattering pieces together as I watched with pure jealousy.

In an instant, Hale reached across and slid the panel separating him and the driver and said, “Marcus. Pull over. Quickly.”

No longer had the words been spoken than the car stopped almost dead in its tracks. The minute it was parked, we all piled out of the car as fast as possible, allowing Cammie to get out. It was pitch black outside, the middle of the night. Yet fearlessly, she stumbled and ran blindly into the thickening forests on the side of the road. I watched her heaving shoulders, felt the pain settling into her chest, knew the thoughts and images flashing by her brain.

She didn’t make it far. Her body collapsed at the foot of a tree, dry-heaving and gagging repeatedly. Those strong, steady fingers that so surely did everything tore at her arms, threatening to draw blood. Those beside me were shocked. Some turned away, some just stared in astonishment. Not me.

I shrugged off the heavy jacket I had on and trudged over to her, despite the many protests of the group behind me. Once I reached the tree, I sat down next to her. Cammie stopped coughing. All there was left were the silent tremors making their way down her body and the river of tears cascading down her frostbitten face. Without another thought, I placed the jacket around her shoulders and pressed her to my chest.

She shattered right then and there. Every ounce of strength left her body as it just sank and broke and fell to pieces upon me. I swore to myself that I was never going to let go of her until the pain ebbed and she wasn’t constantly torturing herself with these godforsaken memories.

“I’m so sorry.” My voice was scratchy and unknown, pulling her in tighter; hoping that I could somehow make her body bound to mine so she’d never have to let go.

“I am too,” she whispered raggedly.

“For what?”

“For stealing another one of your jackets. I still have the first one.”

I smirked and forced her face to look into mine. It could have been a dream, but no; Cammie still had the same, insanely aware emerald eyes, washed out hair, pale skin. Her body was no longer skin and bones, but she was still much, much lighter than she had been Sophomore year.

“I would be greatly offended if you had given it back.”

She smiled sadly.