Six Years Ago

Oliver wastes no time pulling me up the stairs to his bedroom. I kick off my boots and lay on his bed with my hands behind my head, just like I've done a thousand times before. I feign indifference to his heated gaze despite the warmth pooling in my lower abdomen.

He lays down next to me and mirrors my position, making sure to leave an inch of space between us so that we're not touching. I turn my head to peek at him from the corner of my eye, only to see he's doing the same.

I burst into laughter instantly at the sight. He cracks a smile which is all I can really expect out of him. He's always so serious; he rarely opens up and lets his guard down except on occasion when we're alone together.

I snuggle into him once again, forcing him to let down that wall. Of course he lets me with little fight. The smile is still etched on his face as my giggles die down. He starts stroking my hair gently. My eyes close in content.

"Camden?"

I hate when he uses my full name. Everyone else calls me Cam or Cammie, but Oliver is always so formal.

"Yes, Oliver?" I reply, trying to sound equally as formal through slurred speech.

He pulls my chin up so that our faces are an inch apart. There's an intensity in his eyes that sobers me instantly. I can smell the alcohol on his breath mixed with mint, but honestly, I kind of like it. His hand tightens in my hair, pulling me closer until our mouths connect.

It's slow and lazy and sexy, just how I always imagined kissing Oliver would be.

-------

I wake up the next morning, cuddled into the familiar black silk of Oliver's sheets. I wonder vaguely why he never sleeps naked because the cool silk feels incredible against my bare skin.

I had sex with my best friend last night. It was a little awkward at first, being the first time for both of us (even though I know he's fooled around with a few girls), but it was amazing. I certainly didn't regret it.

My hand reaches out for him, only to be met by empty sheets.

Assuming he's probably just out getting coffee for us, I get up and head to the bathroom. There's a glass of water and two Tylenol sitting there waiting for me, a blessing for the pounding in my skull. I take a long shower to relax- my body is a little sore from last night's activity- and get dressed in the spare clothes I always leave in his room before heading downstairs.

Oliver still isn't home which makes me start to worry. I text him multiple times, but no response.

"Hey, are you okay? Please text me back," I leave the message on his phone as I walk out the front door.

I make sure to lock up behind me before I leave.

Oliver always texts back immediately. I walk back towards my house a few blocks over. My immediate thoughts are that he's in trouble. Our dads are known for being involved in some shady work, and they've been training Oliver to take over the family business.

I bite anxiously at my nails. It's just not like him to not answer back.

About a block away, I see Marley's familiar pink hair amongst some of our friends from last night. I walk up to the group, hoping at least one of them has seen Oliver this morning.

"Cammie!" Marley squeals.

She jumps excitedly at my approach and crushes me with a hug.

"Hey guys," I greet them with an awkward smile.

"We were so sad you left last night without saying goodbye, but Oliver said you weren't feeling good. I'm so happy you at least came to see us before you left though!" Lily says.

Lily was more Marley's friend than she was mine, but the sentiment was nice regardless. I didn't really dislike Lily- she's the sweet, bubbly, girl-next-door type and she's nice to everyone she meets.

She's always had a bit of a crush on Oliver though, and although I technically have no right or claim to him, the way she mentally undresses him whenever he's around always irks me.

If Oliver didn't distance himself from everyone but me, I might have been a little more worried about her.

"Wait, you guys have talked to Oliver today?" I ask.

"Yeah, he's inside the store. Said he had to grab something really quick, but we were all going to go see a movie. I told him to text you to join us, but he said you still weren't feeling well," Marley responds.

I'm hurt. That cloud nine feeling I had this morning waking up in Oliver's bed vanished almost immediately.

"Camden," a familiar voice says behind me.

I didn't even hear the door of the grocery store open. I turn around to face him, my blood suddenly boiling. Obviously he's fine. He didn't get caught up in a shady business transaction. He isn't hurt or in danger.

No, he just left me in his room, alone, and couldn't bother to text or call me. I clench my jaw as I stare up at him, refusing to speak.

"We need to talk," he says.

"Is your phone broken?" I raise my eyebrow at him.

I'm aware that the rest of our friends are looking on at us curiously. I'm too furious to care about the scene we're making. He shifts the small paper bag in his hands nervously- he won't even make eye contact with me.

"Can you just come with me for a minute?" He asks quietly.

I can tell by the way his jaw clenches and his fist tightens around his bag that he's angry, which only makes me angrier. I'm the only one that has anything to be angry about here.

I just walk past him, bumping my shoulder against him as I do. I don't even bother looking back to see if he's following behind me, though I know he is.

We round the corner so that we're on the other side of the grocery store, away from our friends.

"Camden," Oliver calls more sternly this time.

I whip around to face him, seething.

"What the fuck, Oliver? I was worried something happened to you!" I yell.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

The apology is strained and half-assed at best. Oliver doesn't do apologies.

"That's it? You don't have anything else to say to me?"

There's a brief flash of pain in his eyes, so quick I'm almost convinced I imagined it. He holds the bag out to me wordlessly.

I glance at him and at the bag suspiciously before taking it from him. Peaking inside, I notice the label on the small box. Plan B.

"Huh?"

"We didn't use protection," he practically whispers.

He looks nauseous, and if I'm not mistaken, a little disgusted.

"Oh. That's smart. Thanks, I guess," I respond bitterly.

I know it's responsibly of him and I should be grateful. I hadn't even thought about protection, I was so wrapped up in him. Still, I couldn't help but feel hurt by his reaction.

"Camden, what happened last night was a mistake," he mutters.

My heart drops.

"I know it was bad timing, but-"

"No, not just bad timing," he cuts me off. "It shouldn't have happened at all."

"Why?" My throat closes up and I can feel hot tears stinging my eyes.

He was cruel to a lot of people, but never me.

His expression is cold, devoid of any emotion. Like he doesn't even care how he just ripped my heart out and stomped on it. My best fucking friend. He walks away seconds later, leaving me shaking and broken.

I can feel the tears finally breaking free- they fall in steady streams down my cheeks, but I don't make a sound. My throat feels dry and my head is pounding.

I don't know how long I stand there, but eventually I make my way back to my house and finish packing my bags. My phone lights up on my bed a few times. I just turn it off and fall into a restless sleep, counting down the hours to my departure.