Chapter 58
Camila POV
The ride was quiet, the kind of quiet that made my brain go into overdrive. I stared out the window, watching the city blut past, my reflection ghosting over the glass. My face looked pale and tired, like someone I barely recognized anymore.
“Get it together,” I whispered to myself, but even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t that simple.
How could I get it together when my life was a train wreck?
The bus screeched to a stop near my aunt’s place, and I stepped off, the cool evening air biting at my skin. I wrapped my arms around myself, my bag swinging at my side as I trudged toward her house.
The porch light flickered as I climbed the steps, the bulb barely holding on. The faint sound of music drifted from inside, some jazzy tune Anya probably had on repeat. I hesitated at the door, my hand hovering over the doorknob.
With a heavy sigh, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The familiar smell of incense hit me immediately. mixed with the faint tang of cigarettes.
“Cam? That you?” Anya’s voice called from the kitchen.
“Yeah,” I called back, kicking off my shoes and dropping my bag by the door.
Anya poked her head out of the kitchen, a glass of wine in one hand and a questioning look in her eyes. “Rough day?”
I shrugged, forcing a small smile. “Something like that.”
She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push, nodding toward the living room. “Go relax. I’ll make something for you to eat.”
I didn’t argue, sinking onto the couch like my bones had turned to jelly. The weight of the day pressed down on me, but for the first time in hours, I let myself breathe.
My life was a mess, but at least for now, I had a moment to rest.
Fucking messed up life.
There I was, sitting at the kitchen table, fork in hand, staring at the guy sitting across from me- Anya’s boyfriend or fling or… whatever. I didn’t even remember his name anymore. Was it Mike? Matt? Maybe it started with an “R“? Not that
it mattered.
He kept giving me that polite, we’re going to pretend this isn’t awkward as hell smile, the kind that made my skin crawl. I stabbed my fork into the overcooked pasta on my plate, twirling it half–heartedly.
“So, Camila,” he started, leaning forward like we were about to have a deep, meaningful conversation. “What do you-
The sound of Anya’s chair scraping against the floor cut him off, and we both turned to look at her. She was already standing, phone in hand, looking like she was about to bolt.
“Sorry, I’ve got to take care of something,” she announced, not even sparing me a glance.
My stomach dropped. “Wait, what? You’re leaving?”
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She waved hand dismissively, already halfway out of the room. “It’s work stuff. You two be nice to each other, okay?”
Be nice to each other?
Was she serious? She was abandoning me with this guy whose name I couldn’t even remember, and now we were supposed to bond or something?
Fucking hate this.
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving us in an awkward silence so thick you could’ve cut it with a butter knife. I
shoved a forkful of pasta into my mouth just to have an excuse not to talk.
“So…” he started again, his voice overly cheerful like he was trying too hard. “You’re in high school, right?”
I swallowed and nodded, my eyes fixed on my plate. “Yeah.”
“What grade are you in?”
“Senior.” Short and sweet. The less I said, the sooner he would stop talking.
“Cool, cool.” He nodded like I had just told him the meaning of life. “Got any plans for college?”
I shrugged, pretending to be intensely focused on cutting a piece of garlic bread. Not really.”
The silence stretched again, and I could feel his eyes on me, like he was waiting for me to give him something to work with. But I wasn’t about to make this easier for him. If he wanted a conversation, he was going to have to do all the heavy
lifting.
“Anya mentioned you’re staying here for a while,” he said, trying a different angle.
“Mm–hmm.”
“She’s really happy to have you here. She talks about you a lot.”
I raised an eyebrow at that. “Really? What does she say?”
He hesitated, like he realized he had stepped into a trap. “Oh, you know… just that you’re… uh, independent. And, uh,
smart.”
“Right.” I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. “Super convincing.”
He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, I might not be great at this.”
“No kidding,” I muttered under my breath, earning another uncomfortable laugh from him.
Just when I thought the night couldn’t get worse, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, grateful for the distraction, and saw a text from Tessa
Tessa: You alive?
I smirked and quickly typed back,
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Me: Barely. Stuck at dinner with Anya’s boyfriend. Kill me.
Her reply came almost instantly.
Tessa: OMG. Hang in there. Maybe he’s secretly cool?
Me: Doubt it.
“Friend of yours?” the guy asked, nodding toward my phone.
“Yep,” I replied without looking up.
He cleared his throat, clearly trying to think of something else to say. “You know, I think it’s great that Anya’s letting you stay here. Family’s important.”
I almost choked on my water. Family?
Anya wasn’t exactly a picture of familial warmth. Don’t get me wrong, she wasn’t a total monster or anything, but let’s just say she wasn’t winning any awards for Aunt of the Year.
“Sure,” I said, setting my glass down with a little more force than necessary.
He opened his mouth to say something else, but I cut him off. “Look, no offense, but can we not do the whole small talk thing? It’s been a long day, and I’m not really in the mood.”
His eyebrows shot up, and for a second, I thought he might actually argue. But then he nodded, holding up his hands like he was surrendering. “Fair enough.”
Thank God.
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