I flip on the lights and clumsily kick off my boots as we walk inside. Oliver closes the front door quietly behind us.

"Mom! Dad! Hello!" I yell up at the ceiling.

Usually they're home by now.

"Your parents aren't home. They went on vacation with my parents to France or some shit. They'll be back next week," Oliver says as he walks into the kitchen.

He grabs two glasses from the cabinet above the stove, looking much more comfortable in my home than even I was, and fills them both with water. He sets one down on the island in the middle of the kitchen and motions for me to sit at the stool there.

He leans across the countertop as he takes a long sip of water, watching me as he does.

"How often do you come over here?" I ask.

"Morgan and Joe invite me over about once a week for dinner," he replies.

"Wow, they never told me."

I think back to all the phone calls I'd have with my mom and dad just to check in with them while I was away. Obviously I knew dad and Oliver had been working together, but I didn't think they'd be that close. Now I wonder if all those times they were in a rush to get going was because he was coming over.

"I asked them not to say anything," he says, confirming my suspicions.

But why? I'm positive he didn't tell them what happened between us out of fear of my dad. As far as I knew, even Marley didn't know about it and she tried to annoy the shit out of me for details.

"I didn't tell them what happened, if that's what you're wondering," he notes my questioning gaze. "I just made up some bullshit excuse about not wanting my visits to distract you from your studies or something."

I shrug in response, not wanting to think about any of that. An awkward silence fell over us.

I looked over at the old school grandfather clock by the stairs mindlessly, anything to avoid eye contact. Oliver clears his throat nervously.

"About what happened, Camden..."

"Nope," I shake my head vehemently. "Not happening. I'm tired, I'll probably just go to bed. It's too late for you to walk home, you can sleep in the guest room if you want."

I get up from the counter, still avoiding eye contact. Oliver sighs heavily.

"Cam, come on."

My heart flutters at the nickname he rarely uses on me. Always so formal, even with me.

"No, Ollie. We're both too drunk to be having this conversation tonight. So are you staying or not?"

He sighs again, but eventually concedes. I run up the stairs, surprised that I didn't fall once, and grab two towels out of the linen closet.

"You remember where it is?" I ask, handing him the extra towel.

He just nods in response and heads towards the opposite end of the hallway from my room, a scowl still etched on his face. I wait until I hear the sound of the shower turn on before heading into my room and running a bath of my own.

I throw in some oils and bath salts. The whole room quickly fills with floral and citrus aromas. The mirror steams up immediately- my hair sticks to my skin.

I sink into the tub, the scalding hot water soothing my aching body. I didn't even realize how sore and exhausted I was until I relaxed further into the bubbles, but it has been a long day. My head is pounding already, a dark foreboding for tomorrow.

I didn't even realize I was crying until a single tear drops into the bathwater with a gentle splat, but now that I'm alone, they fall freely.

Coming home was even harder than I expected.