Wait for You (29 page)

“Yep.” She bounced over to me and sat on the bed. “You’ve taken medicine twice and you’re about to take it again. You need to drink all of this water. And then you need to drink this—more medicine. My mom, who’s a nurse by the way, said that since it seems like your fever broke last night, you should be fine. Well, you should be better.”

“Last night?” Covering my mouth with my hand, I started hacking again as I took the water from her. We had to wait for
that
to pass. “What… time is it?”

Brit sat on the edge of the bed, holding the steaming mug. I could already smell the lemon. “Time? Honey, day would probably be the better question. It’s Saturday.”

I almost choked on my water. “I’ve been… out of it for… a full day?”

“A full day and a half,” she said, sympathetic. “When I texted and called you and you didn’t answer, I got worried. That’s why I came over. You were pretty bad. Mom said it was probably from dehydration. ”

Mulling that over while I finished off the water, I placed the glass on the nightstand and took the mug from her. Another coughing fit hit me and only by some miracle did I not spill it on myself. “Did you… stay here the whole time?”

“Not the entire time. I had help.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Really, thank you. I’d still laying on… the floor if it weren’t… for you and Jacob.”

She shook her head.
 

Suddenly, something very important occurred to me. I glanced down at myself. I was wearing a long sleeve sleep shirt. My bra was still on and I was in pajama bottoms—oh my God—my bracelet was off. My head jerked up way to fast, causing the ache to spread across my face. The bracelet sat on the nightstand. “Did you…?”

“Yes and no,” she said, messing with the short ponytail at the top of her head. “I helped you get into the bottoms.”

“Then who…?” A sinking feeling had me thinking I was going to have to run for the bathroom again. “Oh, my God…”

Brit winced. “Don’t hate me, Avery, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t get you off the floor. For someone who is so little, you weigh a ton and I have more muscles than Jacob. Cam was right across the hall and it seemed like the quickest solution.”

Oh my God, I couldn’t even wrap my sick brain around this little piece of news. If Brit hadn’t stripped me from my sweat soaked sweater, it had to have been Cam, which meant he was the one who placed the bracelet on the nightstand.
 

I closed my eyes.
 

“Are you feeling like you’re going to hurl again?”
 

“No,” I said hoarsely. “So… so Cam was here?”

“He carried you to the bed and stayed with you while I ran to the store,” she said, crossing her legs. “When I came back, he’d changed your shirt and he swore he didn’t peek at your goodies. Though, I was staring at his goodies. He was shirtless the entire time. Even though I had every window in this house open to air out all your funk.”

All my funk. Cam was all up in my funk.
 

“He was like the perfect nurse. Had a damp cloth to your face, keeping you cool.” Brit sighed a dreamy sound. “He even stayed with you while I cleaned up your mess.”

“Thank you,” I said again, finishing off the mug. “I mean it, thank you so much. I owe you.”

“You do.” She flashed a quick grin. “You also owe Cam.”

I collapsed back against the bed, closing my eyes. “I bet you had to beg him to come over.”

“No,” she replied, poking my leg until I looked at her. “I didn’t have to ask him twice. He dropped what he was doing and came right over to help you.”

Chapter 22

The sickness had lingered and turned into a disgusting, hacking cold that I treated obsessively with every over the counter medicine known to man. By the first day of spring semester, I was still coughing, but I felt well enough to go to class.
 

On the way downstairs, I grew some lady balls and went over to Cam’s apartment. I needed to thank him, face to face and not over text. With my heart pounding like I’d run up and down the stairs, I knocked on his door.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the other side of the door seconds before it flung open, revealing Ollie in all his messy glory. A sleepy smile crossed his lips. “Hey there, glad to see you up and walking around.”

“Thanks.” I felt my cheeks warm. “Is Cam up?”

“Yeah, let me check. Hold on a sec.” He left the door open a crack as he disappeared back in the apartment. A few moments—moments that felt like forever—he returned, a little less rumpled. “Actually, he, um left already for class.”

“Oh.” I smiled to hide my disappointment. “Well, I’ll… see you around.”

“Yeah.” Ollie nodded as he ran a hand through his shoulder length hair.
 
“Hey, Avery, I hope you’re feeling better.”

“I am. Thanks.”

Giving him a little wave, I readjusted the strap of my new bag and then pulled out my gloves as I headed down the stairs and out into the bright, freezing morning. I stopped a few spaces behind my car, my heart tumbling.

There it was—Cam’s truck.
 

He hadn’t left for class. He’d been in the apartment. The truth was as cold as the weather. Ollie had gone back to him, and Cam hadn’t wanted to see me.

#

I saw Cam around campus a lot over the next few weeks. It seemed we had a schedule that placed us near each other and every time I saw him, he was with Jase or, like the day before, with Steph.
 

Whenever I saw him with her, there was a nasty little feeling that settled in my stomach. I had no right to that feeling. I knew that, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to take off and karate-chop Steph into next week.
 

But that wasn’t the worse part of spotting him. Most times he would see me, and if our gazes collided, he
always
looked away. It was like we hadn’t been friends for almost five months or that we hadn’t shared any intimate moments. It was like we didn’t even know each other.
 

It reminded me of how things had become with my friends in high school after the Halloween party.
 
As if our time together had been erased.
 

On Friday, a small opening occurred. Cam was alone, crossing the main street, heading toward Knutti, his head down and hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie.
 

“Cam!” I yelled his name so suddenly that it caused a rather pathetic sounding coughing fit that was leftover from my cold.
 

He stopped, lifting his chin. Wisps of dark hair curled out from under the knit cap he wore.
 

I struggled up the rest of the hill, chest and legs aching. Out of breath, I stopped in front of him. “Sorry,” I croaked out, taking several deep breaths. “Need a second.”

His brows knitted. “You sound terrible.”

“Yeah, it’s the Black Death and it never goes away.” I cleared my throat, forcing my eyes to meet his. For a moment, as I stared into those crystalline eyes, I forgot why I had forced him to stop.
 

Something crossed his face and then he averted his gaze, a muscle thumping in his jaw. “I’ve got to get to class, so…?”

Cam in a hurry to get to class? The apocalypse was about to occur. I fought the urge to just walk away at that point, because it was painfully obvious he had no interest in this conversation, but I stood my ground. I owed it to him.
 

“I just wanted to say thank you for helping Brit out when I was sick.”

His lips pursed as he focused on something beyond me. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It was to me,” I said quietly, wishing he’d look at me. “So thank you.”

Cam nodded curtly and then took a deep breath. His gaze flickered back to me and then away. His shoulders tensed. “You’re welcome.”

“Well…” I ran out of something to say because everything that came to mind shouldn’t be spoken. Like I’m sorry for being such a bitch. And I wish you hadn’t seen the scar.
 

“I’ve got to go,” he said finally, backing toward the side entrance of the building, where several students smoked. “I’ll see you around.”

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, my heart stuttering.

Cam turned around, eyes narrowed and it was like he was waiting for something, but then he shook his head. “Me too.”

I didn’t stop him again.
 

Tears burned the back of my throat and somehow I made it to English 102, which was in the same building as him. The morning was a numb blur and when I met with Jacob and Brit in the den for lunch, I barely followed their conversation as I picked at my sandwich. I think they were used to it though, because neither of them pointed it out.
 

As Brit and I walked to Whitehall for economics, I told her about my run in with Cam. “He didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I don’t think that’s the case, Avery.”

“Oh, it is. He was in a hurry to get the hell away from me. Actually said he couldn’t be late for class, and come on, Cam never cares about that.”

Brit tugged her cap down over her ears as we stopped near the pavilion in front of the social sciences building. “Can I be real with you?”

“Yes.”

She clasped her glove covered hands together. “You know I love you, right? So I’m just going to put this out there. You avoided Cam since Thanksgiving, and to me, to him, and baby Jesus, it seems like that was what you wanted. For him to just go away.”

I opened my mouth, but what could I say. That was what I wanted.
 

“And so he has gone away. You can’t blame him for that. The guy is only going to put up with so much, you know?” She pursed her lips. “And after ignoring him for that long, he’s probably not going to be thrilled talking to you.”

“I know,” I admitted.
 
“It’s just…”

“You’ve finally pulled your head out of your ass and you’re worried it’s too late?”

Was that it? I wasn’t sure, but I hoped not, because at least with my head in my ass, it was a little less depressing.
 

“Give it some time,” she said, dropping her arm around my shoulders. “If he doesn’t come around, then fuck him.”

“Fuck him,” I repeated, but I really didn’t feel it.

Brit squeezed me anyway. “That’s my girl.”

#

Friday night, I stared at my econ homework, convinced it was a totally different language designed to confuse the hell out of people. Concentrating was proving difficult for several reasons. Several times I found myself staring at the TV screen, not really seeing what was on the television, my head going in different directions, most of them leading back to Cam.
 

I was getting sick of myself.
 

My phone suddenly went off, ringing from deep inside my bag. Digging it out, I groaned when I saw the caller’s name. My cousin. I was a bit surprised that he was actually calling me after the dozens of emails I’d ignored.
 

But the fact that he was calling me is what made me bite the bullet and answer.
 

“Hello,” I said, my voice monotone.
 

There was a silent moment and then, “You answered the phone?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Yeah, that sounded ridiculous even to me. “What’s up, David?”

“Have you’ve read any of my emails?” The uppityness that was normally in his tone was absent. Shocking.
 

“Ah, I read one or two, but I’ve been busy, with college and all.” I stood and nudged my bag under the coffee table. “So…”

David’s sigh was quite audible. “You don’t know anything? Have your parents tried to contact you?”

I snorted. “Um, no. They forgot my
birthday
.”

“Sorry about that,” he replied, and I could practically see his cringe. “I thought that they might have tried to tell you about what’s been going on here. It sort of has to do with you.”

Walking into the kitchen, I frowned as I grabbed a soda out of the fridge. “How does anything back there have anything to do with me?”

There was a pause and the bomb of all bombs was dropped. “It’s about Blaine Fitzgerald. He’s been arrested.”

The can of soda skipped from my fingers and clanged off the floor. It rolled under the table. I stood there, staring at the fridge. “What?”

“He’s been arrested, Avery. That’s why I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. I thought… I don’t know, I thought you would like to know.”

My legs felt weak, so I turned and clutched the counter with one hand. The room tilted like I was sick again.

“Avery, are you there?”

“Yes,” I said, swallowing. “What happened?”

“It was at the start of summer, but it was kept quiet until about the middle of August, when he was arrested. There was a party being thrown. Some younger kids were there from what I heard,” he explained, and I closed my eyes. “It was a girl you went to school with. I think she was a year younger than you—Molly Simmons.”

I remembered seeing her name in one of his emails and assuming something totally different. “What… did he do?”