It just didn’t make sense. Cam was what she’d been craving the past few days, she had her fill, and that should have been enough. But for some reason, as he settled into her bed beside her with an arm around her shoulders, she couldn’t help but feel like she wasn’t fulfilled.

And how greedy did she sound, after how great he was!

“Feel any better?” he asked by her ear. He lay gentle kisses on her neck, which she smiled at. His affection was very nice. Even though the swelling in her chest remained, the rest of her felt just as contented as it possibly could have been. Cameron encouraged her to snuggle up beside him, under just the top sheet of her bed due to the heat, and she let her head rest on his chest. He was very comfortable--he was even the kind of guy that had sweat that didn’t smell terrible. It was just musky, something she didn’t mind cuddling right up to and holding for just a couple minutes.

“I feel much better,” she answered honestly. Not what she wanted, but close. Cam chuckled as he brushed his hand over her arms, encouraging her to hold tightly. He might not have been into anything more serious than what this was, but at least he still went through all the motions an act this intimate entailed.

“I’ve got a question for you, Cat,” he started a little cautiously. Her smile faded. “At the risk of ruining the mood….” The tone in his voice gave away that he’d been holding this thought in for a while. Frowning, Cat sat up, slipping out of his embrace and letting the sheet that covered them fall at her waist when she faced him. At first, he seemed distracted by her, staring at her up and down. It was flattering, but now her stomach was made of stone in anticipation.

Flushed, Cat cleared her throat. “Your question?” He blinked.

“Right. Sorry.” Pursing his lips, Cameron then scooted himself up to lean against her pillows, sitting just as she did. “Little weird, but--why do you think Peter’s a trust fund baby?”

Could someone get physical injuries from verbal whiplash? “Huh?” was all she managed to utter.

“A lot of your insults to Peter are about money, and I was just wondering where you got that from.”

The tiniest bit of heat ignited in her stomach, responding in a way it was used to whenever thoughts of Peter popped into her mind. Why on Earth would Cam bring up his roommate? But, she could tell, looking at him, that he was genuinely wondering. Well. Maybe people like Cam didn’t understand the fight or flight that happened around people like Peter. Maybe he was never bullied, never a favored target.

Cat chewed on her inner lip, then shrugged. “I can just tell,” she said. “Like, during orientation, he wore designer jeans. My aunts and uncles were criticized for only being able to afford jeans, and he’s one of those people that goes out and spends half a thousand dollars on pants to wear a Poor People Costume.” She didn’t expect Cam to understand. He seemed surprised by her words, so she continued, “And on top of that, he’s got a two-thousand dollar phone he just waves around like it’s life support. And it doesn’t even have a cover, because god forbid no one knew it was the newest and greatest version--”

“Cat..?”

“--and this is going to sound really weird,” she continued before he could fully interrupt her; she halted him with a finger. “But it’s the way that he walks, too. Like while the rest of us were learning to walk, we were worried about where we were going, but he was taught to worry how he was going or something. I know it doesn’t make any sense, and I know it’s irrational, but now at this point, it’s more about how he’s being such a dick whenever I’m around him--!”

“Okay!” Cam finally interrupted, waving a hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get you worked up.” Cat deflated against the wall, allowing the cool paint to reduce her temper.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away.” He smiled at her and placed a hand on one of her thighs as a way of saying it was fine.

“Don’t apologise for being passionate. It just means you care.” She could only blink in response. There was another one of those nuggets of wisdom. Cameron was a little confusing.

“Um--why did you want to know? Did he complain about it to you or something?” Sensitive douche couldn’t handle a proper insult? But something was off. The stone in Cat’s stomach didn’t budge, and it only seemed to grow heavier as Cam considered what he sad going to say next.

“Not really. Just something I noticed kind of...and….” Cam frowned, truly frowned, for the first time. “It’s not my place to say.” Well, if he didn’t want to pique her interest, he shouldn’t have said anything at all. Cat stared at him, struggling to find motivation. Did he have an ulterior motive? Was he trying to get her to pry in exchange for something, or did he really just want to know?

As he sat there, in her bed, hardly covered by her sheets and facing her in the most vulnerable way, Cat made up her mind. Maybe it was a little weird--to the outsider--why she targeted Peter the way she did. Cameron just wanted to know. And, well, considering he was sort of in the middle of their fighting all of a sudden, it made sense.

“If you want me to be nice to Peter, you’re starting at the wrong end of the conflict,” Cat said.

“No--no, I’m not asking that. I’m not asking anything.” While she watched him, utterly confused, he seemed to be thinking terribly hard about whatever it was he wasn’t asking of her.

“So it bugs him a lot more when I mention money,” she started slowly. Then, pieces of a puzzle started to come together. “People that don’t like money don’t have it.” It only muddled her idea of him, though. That was a lot of effort he put into not looking like a regular guy. “So he’s broke, too. Why is he so sensitive about it? I’ve never had more than triple digits in my savings account for longer than a month and you don’t see me going around, being a dick to people who point it out.” Cam started to say something, but seemed to think better of it. A small feeling in the back of her head nudged her, told her to file this moment to reflect upon later.

Cam finally settled on a response. “Right, but--hear me out--it’s not a…. Like, it’s not a super sore spot for you.” Before Cat could fully feel the intrigue creep into her mind, he continued, “You don’t really hate him, right? Like you don’t want to hurt anyone on purpose?”

“I mean…. I punched him, right?” It was an attempt to lighten the mood. Something in this question made things so dark, so much less fun than just a few minutes ago. As curious as she was, the way Cam approached this gave her an awful feeling. He laughed at her joke; in fact, it seemed to cure him of whatever dark thoughts Peter put in his head in the first place, and he even sat up a little.

"Right,” he started, fully amused. God, if she punched Peter that badly, she wished she could remember it. Cam chuckled again. “Right, of course. Well--I mean, you intend to annoy him or make him mad or whatever. I’m just saying I don’t think those particular lines will bug him, just hurt him.” Catherine stared at him for a moment, before finally shrugging and letting her eyes fall to her lap. It was weird to think she had the power to hurt someone. Even someone like Peter, whose steel walls were so high up he had to look down at others.

“Yeah, well, there are plenty of other things to insult him about. The guy over-manscapes like those conceited Instagram guys that film themselves shaving.” Cam started to run his fingers up and down her thigh; somehow, it was comforting, though the dark curiosity still lingered in her stomach like leftover anxiety.

“He didn’t ask me to talk to you, by the way.”

“He just felt like complaining about money to you?” She rolled her eyes, but Cameron shook his head.

“I may have eavesdropped on a phone call. Sounded legal and stuff.” Legal? Cat raised a brow.

“It’s not money, I don’t think. I think it’s what comes with it. But--” He seemed to be folding in on himself. “I didn’t say anything. It’s not my place.” Well…. If it was important enough to Cam to bring it up, maybe she did cross some small line she had no idea about. And it wasn’t a big deal to just switch how she taunted Peter. And even then, they were going to avoid each other as much as humanly possible. So it should be easy.

Ohhh, but now she was so curious….

Even though she had to read two chapters for Human Sexuality and answer a few review questions for homework, she let Cameron convince her to put it off until tomorrow. But when Sunday rolled around, not long after she got back from work, did Cameron show up again and convince her to put off homework until later in favor of more exciting activities. But by then, around dinnertime, Hannah returned from house-sitting, and between catching up with her and being exhausted from work and entertaining Cam all afternoon, Cat found herself far too exhausted to do anything other than go to bed early.

She knew she would regret it. Not that hanging out with Cam wasn’t fun--it was great, but she shouldn’t have left her homework until Monday morning. She woke up two hours earlier to try and get it done, but she couldn’t even get out of bed. She snoozed so much, she nearly slept through the alarm she set to remind her to leave for work.

Catherine did end up making it to work on time...though she never did her Human Sexuality homework, and now she spent the whole morning worrying so much she hardly noticed that the next customer to take care of was Peter.

He stood there, wearing similar clothes she last saw him in: slacks, button-up. Dressed for work. What sort of work could possibly be good enough for him? What sort of job could allow him to afford designer jeans, several pairs of fancy slacks, and the newest phone?

When he stepped up to the register, he didn’t say anything, and she didn’t greet him. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes. Instead, she grabbed a cup and wrote for a plain, black coffee, and handed it off to Jeffrey without looking up.

And, in a weirdly smooth way, Peter tossed exact cash onto the counter and disappeared into the morning crowd to wait for his name to be called. Cat didn’t even realize she’d been holding her breath until Jeffrey nudged her in the ribs.

“That was somehow more hostile than any of your other interactions. What happened?” His question irritated her more than she wanted to admit. Scowling, she nudged him back into his post.

“Nothing.” She was in no mood for his weird comments. And, since the day had been going so well already, it nearly didn’t surprise Cat when she returned to her dorm room, that she couldn’t find her Interpersonal Communications textbook. She didn’t have time for this. It wasn’t under her bed, in her bag, which she swore it was--until she found the apology letter she wrote haphazardly shoved in between some folders.

The library. She left it by the computer on Saturday in the library when she was with Cam. She was so distracted by him, she never went back for it, or even logged out of the computer. Good lord, it was a rental!

With her heart in her throat, Cat sprung into action. First, she double-checked the attendance policy for Human Sexuality, and after she was reassured that she was allotted two absences before it affected her grade, she ran to the library to begin her search.

The book was not where she had left it. Not that she should have been surprised. And she shouldn’t have been surprised when the Lost and Found didn’t have it. She thought, maybe, there might have been a chance that someone turned it into the bookstore when they saw that it was a rental from the sticker on the spine...but when she went there, the underpaid cashier shook her head.

“Sorry, no. You’re going to have to pay for it, though.”

"Pay for it?” she echoed. Pay for a book she didn’t have!

“Since you aren’t returning the rental, you have to pay the difference. It’s a loss to the store.”

“Not until the end of the semester,” Cat said defensively. The cashier shrugged.

“No, but I thought I should warn you.” She didn’t look like she had the ability to care enough to warn someone of an impending cost.

“I need that book now, though.” Cat glanced behind her to the growing line of students buying scantrons and gum, then huffed. “Do you have others?”

“Uh--I can’t--I can’t rent you out the same book again. Limit one per person.” Of course. Why would it be so easy? It was bad enough she had to spend $300 on a book she didn’t have to cover the rental, and then spend even more to just get access to it.

The bookstore suddenly got very warm. How much was one lapse in judgement going to cost her? “Can I buy a used one?”

The cashier wasn’t helpful. “Not of the same book. You have to return the rental first.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Sorry….”

“So I have to buy out the book, then can I rent one?”

The cashier shrugged, then clicked around on her computer. “Let me look to see if we have any, first.” Then, after a minute of loading, she shook her head. “Um...no, we’re out.”

Cat gasped. “You’re completely out?”

“Not out-out, just out of rentals.” Well there went the cheapest option.

“Used ones?” she asked quietly.

“None of those. Just new ones. We’d have to order it.” This was a nightmare. The voices of the impatient patrons behind her seemed to get louder. The realization that she hadn’t had any lunch started to hit her, twisting her stomach in knots.

“How much is it to buy out the lost book?” How much did she have in her bank account? Her parents managed to give her a couple hundred for the move, and she had her last paycheck, and the upcoming paycheck--if she didn’t use any of it for food….

“Um, total, it’s two-hundred and fifty-three dollars, sixteen cents.” What! How did anyone afford this? The cashier seemed sympathetic.

“I know. Just don’t major in STEM, and your books won’t be that bad.” Cat blinked at her.

“This is why there’s such a disproportionate amount of people of--”

“Hi, Preacher, I’m choir,” the cashier interrupted before she could even get started. “Sorry. I hear that all the time. Look, I can’t change the prices. I’m sorry. You’re going to have to pay that amount unless you find the book. But, hey, check online for some used copies, see if you can find any better prices than what we’ve got here. There are some places that might even rent to you even though the semester started already.”

Cat shook her head, but took out her debit card and, with shaking hands, passed it off to the cashier, who simultaneously wiped her debt and her account with one swipe. She hoped she had enough money in her account.

“Please go through,” Cat whispered to herself. The cashier handed her card back with a receipt, and although she should have felt at least a little relieved, she left the store feeling even worse than when she went in.

With a half hour before her Communications class was set to begin, Cat knocked on Professor Harlem’s office door, desperately hoping the woman was in there. But then she noticed light peeking in from the bottom of the door, and then a man’s voice. A stupid, familiar, snobby voice.

“Come in,” the professor called. Cat was about to turn around and walk away, pretend like she was never here, but the professor was already opening the door to welcome her inside. “Ah. Come on in, Miss Ramos.”

She stood there, feeling smaller than ever, undoubtedly looking just as guilty, but managed to inch her way inside the closet-sized office. There wasn’t even a window.

Peter stood off to the side between a fake fern and an overstuffed bookshelf, seemingly unsurprised, though his clothes a little more wrinkled than the start of the morning.

Before she could forget her manners, Cat stepped into the office and shut the door behind her. As she twisted the knob, she gathered her strength with a deep breath.

“Professor, I just wanted to give this to you.” She turned around with the letter in hand, and waited for the professor to accept it and return to her computer. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can see you after--”

“Is this a withdrawal notice?” Professor Harlem asked without unfolding the paper. Cat’s eyes bulged.

“No! No, it’s an apology...f-for my behavior on Friday.” For some reason, the professor found this amusing, and unfolded it to give it a once-over.

“Alright. In that case, please stay a minute.” Professor Harlem dropped the unfolded paper by her keyboard, where another out-of-place paper sat. Cat squinted, and could barely make out Peter’s name at the bottom. Really, an apology letter from him, too? Did Cameron have something to do with this?

“Both of you, please sit.” Before she could get mad, Catherine obeyed the instructor and sat in the armchair beside Peter. The energy he gave off confirmed that he was maybe thinking the same thing. Cameron in his middle-man position gave them both the same, exact advice. No wonder.

The professor took a deep breath, then laced her fingers together and leaned on her desk.

“So you both want to make up for that shitshow, huh?” She looked between the two, who only nodded. “Then first I need you to understand that if this was done in a work environment, a second chance would not be given. I trust you both work? What do you do?” She first addressed Cat, who squirmed in her chair.

“Barista,” she managed to squeak out. Then came Peter’s answer, “Cell phone sales and repair.” Oh. That answered the question about how he got the fancy phone.

“So you know that that sort of thing is unacceptable.” Peter and Cat nodded in sync. “But this is a class, and I would be lying if I didn’t admit that this happened every year. So I’m going to let you make this up. You’ll re-do your debate at the end of the semester.” Cat’s hand jumped to her throat, as if to actually hold her breath there. “But I will be grading it as a normal debate. Everything is going to matter, not just the etiquette. I’ll be giving you a new topic after the debates for the class are over. Understood?”

Cat had never nodded so fast before.

“Thank you,” Peter beat her to saying. She echoed it, hopefully not too eagerly, before the professor smiled and dismissed them.

At least one thing went right tonight.