“Cameron, what are you…”
I tied her shoelaces carefully.
“Do you see my truth?”
“And what is that?” she asked in a small, vulnerable voice.
“Will you stick around a little bit?” I asked. “I think I…I want to show it to you.”
I froze. She had placed her hand on my hair, her fingers playing with the strands. I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring her touch. Then I looked up.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
I held my breath as her finger traced the bridge of my nose, sliding down to my lips.
“Kara, can you help me with Mrs. Gonzales? She’s—oh. Sorry. Am I interrupting?”
Like guilty children, we both jumped away from each other. It was Amanda. She had a happy smile on her face. I assumed she was Kara’s friend and wouldn’t tell anyone about me.
“No,” Kara answered, rising from her chair. “I’ll be right there.”
Amanda winked at me and left.
“I’ll finish the rest,” Kara said. “You can leave now.”
There was no way I’d let her. I’d finish everything before she could come back.
Before she stepped out of the room, she looked back. “Thank you.”
She looked tired and a little sad. I wanted to make her smile.
“Shirt and pants,” I said, pointing at mine. She had splashed me with that muddy water last night. “You still owe me.”
She cracked a smile. Mission accomplished.
Chapter 18
Cameron
The next day was better. She wore her hair in a high ponytail.
I leaned against the locker, watching her walk out of the lecture hall. Classes had just ended. Students spilled out from classrooms, crowding the halls. She stopped where she was, braced her side against the wall as she waited for the coast to clear.
She looked tired but so damn cute in her blue knit sweater—the one that looked like a dress sack and ended just above her knees. She had on those dark leggings that girls wear all the time and boots. Her usual backpack was on her shoulder and her usual water bottle in her hand.
She ignored everyone around her.
It seemed like she was in her own world, waiting for everyone to get the hell out of her way so she could move on.
My eyes shifted to a guy standing a few feet from her. He looked interested as he eyeballed her up and down. He walked closer, trying to get her attention. But she didn’t even look at him, didn’t even know he was alive, didn’t care that he was trying to breathe in the air she exhaled.
She shifted, ready to move. The guy deliberately blocked her way but made it look like an accident. He stood in front of her, smiling.
She moved to the left; he moved to her left. She moved to the right; he moved to her right.
My jaw ticked.
When I noticed she was looking at him with dead eyes, I nearly laughed. She stopped, waited for him to move, but he wouldn’t.