Page 125 of Bring You Back

His shoulder brushes mine. “I got this part.”

I chuckle at the amusement in his voice. “Yeah, but I prefer this part.” I hip-check him and he moves aside as I take his place, his hands brushing my arm as he removes them. He shakes his head as he dries himself off with a towel, and I catch a smile. I finish rinsing off a plate, then hand it to him. He dries it off, then props it up in the rack. We continue like this—hands working, mouths closed, eyes connecting whenever I pass him a dish or silverware, our stares holding a bit longer each time.

I run my hand along the bottom of the sink, feeling that it’s now empty, and I pull the plug. We both stall, listening to the suction. He remains beside me as I watch the water drain. He remains beside me still as I rush fresh water to clear the suds.

I’m overwhelmed with the need for him to touch me again. In more ways. In the ways he hasn’t. In the ways he should’ve last summer. Last night.

All the ways he didn’t. All the ways he’s still not.

Once the sink is cleared, I make to get back to my room, but his voice halts my steps. “Camille.” His hand grabs mine, and he waits for me to face him before he says, “It’s still me.”

I shake my head. “If it was really you, you would’ve done more than just hold me last night.”

He makes a face, seemingly hurt that I would assume he would’ve tried to take advantage. But we both know that’s not what he would’ve been doing. “No, I wouldn’t have.”

“Are you saying youdon’twant me?” I challenge.

“I’m not saying that.” His voice is strained, as heady as his stare. The closest he can still get to saying hedoeswant me. “But you needed a friend last night, Camille.”

“I neededyou.”

A sigh, a small burst of breath leaves his lips at the implication in my words, his fingers tightening around mine, the start of a tug. . .

There’s no way of knowing what he would’ve done next, because in walks Reyna with her perfect timing.

My hand slips from his loosening grip as I make my point. “But you still can’t give that to me.”

Julian

“Nobody wants me.”

I’m watching Camille disappear to the hall, my head replaying the words she just said to me instead of the ones being said to me now.

“Nobody wants me,” Reyna repeats, louder.

“I heard you,” I snap at her, snapping me from Camille, then wince at my tone.

“Then act like it,” she snaps back. She’s clutching a portfolio that’s filled with her art, knuckles white on both sides, the top chunk hovering over the island. She’s looking at me with wide, hurt eyes that travel slowly down to her hands on a deep exhale. She tried to submit pieces again. Somewhere. And she was rejected, again.

I want to be there for her, but there’s a different girl I need to be there for right now. I slide another stare toward the hall, feeling the whisper of a pull as a firm hand holds me to this spot. There’s two of them, and one of me.

“I try so hard. I do so much,” Reyna starts, cracks and tension in her voice, on a spiel to defend her work. Too many people have made her feel like she has to. “I’mgood,” she says through confidence that has been lessened but still there. She looks up at me, eyes wet. “I don’t get it.” She shakes her head, brows narrowed. “Like, what the hell is wrong with Mrs. Wright?” I release a slight chuckle at the humor she tries to emit through her anguish, but it catches in my throat when she looks back down at her portfolio. “What’s wrong withmefor listening to her?”

“Forgot my water,” Camille announces as she saunters back in and opens the fridge, before I can remind Reyna that nothing is wrong with her. It’s a question she’s known to ask, and an answer we’re known to say. “You two seem happy,” Camille adds on her way back out.

“Will you stop with your commentary for once?” Reyna snaps at her, and Camille whips around. “I’m really upset right now.”

Camille raises a brow, and I know whatever’s about to come out of her mouth is going to make this a long night. “You’re always ‘really upset’.”

I close my eyes, ready to be out of this kitchen, not really one to put a stop to their bickering. It’s never been about me. At least notaroundme. It’s all girl drama, personality clashing. Camille’s not afraid to get ugly, but their barbs are mostly harmless.

Not tonight.Tonight, I have a feeling this will harm.

Reyna scoffs and drops her portfolio to the island, turning to Camille with her arms folded over her chest. “At least I have feelings.”

I catch Camille’s eyes as she opens her mouth to retort, my stare a warning.Don’t.Reyna’s already in pieces tonight—fragile.Don’tleave more for me to clean up.

My warning goes unheeded as Camille looks back at Reyna, unable to help herself. “Someone does want you, Reyna. He’s just not in this room.”

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