Page 81 of Bring You Back

My fucking friends, ever reminding me of how to be one.

Camilleissuffering. Alone. In the quiet corners of her mind. Right here in my house. Inside the glare of my damn porch light.

She’s eating her dead brother’s favorite fruit. She’s trying to hide her reactions to stinging words—mostly said by me.

And I care.

She opens me up, lowers my shield as she lowers hers, pulls shit out. It’s getting harder and harder to get a false word in. Especially now, after the whole of the day.

I made a promise to myself: to allow Camille to prove that I don’t have to protect my heart. But I also made a promise to Tommy: to make sure Camille will be okay.

And she just showed me, with more than one verbal slap, that for both to be fulfilled, I’ll have to meet her halfway.

The front door opens and Banks comes barreling through my thoughts and into my house with a laughing girl on his arm. This one is blonde with green streaks in her hair. She’s pretty. Not Marcy pretty. Not Reyna gorgeous. Just pretty. Of course Banks couldn’t get Reyna gorgeous if he tried. That involves actually having Reyna. And no blonde he brings to bed will ever come close.

Where does he keep finding them?

“Shhhh,” he hushes the girl’s giggling and she covers her mouth.

“Yeah, shhhh,” I add, both of them jumping at my voice, then stilling. The girl looks caught, probably thinking I’m about to throw their asses out, but Banks smiles, waggling his brows at me as he points to his latest conquest.I see her, man. She’s not fucking invisible.“If you wake my mom, you’ll lose closed door privileges,” I remind him.

Banks has had girls in and out of that guest room more times than I care to keep up with. He usually gets by with it, but my mom has caught him. The guest room door had to stay open for two weeks every time. He hadn’t taken her seriously the first go round, and she almost removed the door from the hinges.

I, on the other hand, haven’t been caught. I’m not dumb enough to try to get laid when my parents are home.

“We’ll be quiet,” Banks defends, then points at the girl with a mischievous grin. “Well, she might not.” The girl grins back at the promise of orgasms to come.

“Just keep it down,” I reiterate with a glance toward the hall.

“It has to beupto get the job done,” Banks says, hands framing his junk, and the girl laughs.

“You’re funny,” she spouts.

Banks points at me. “See? I’m funny!”

“I didn’t say you weren’t, man,” I say with a slight laugh of my own. I repeat myself for Banks’s one-track mind. “Just make sure the little guy gets the job donequietly.”

Banks whips his stare and his pointer finger at the girl, declaring, “I’m not little.”

I stifle a laugh.He heardthat.

He moves to shut off the porch light and I stop him without a second thought. “Leave that on.”

He turns back around with a face, like I can’t stop inconveniencing him in my own house. “What’s with you guys and lights?”

I’m wondering that myself. The thought draws my attention to the light before it’s dragged back to Banks as he guides his date to the guest room. Once they’re inside, he pops back out with, “Oh, dude, before I forget. I was thinking of asking a girl to get a tattoo of half a heart around each nipple so that it makes one heart when she pushes her boobs together.” He mimics this and shimmies his shoulders all while I’m trying to keep my jaw from falling open. I’m never truly surprised at the shit that comes out of this guy’s mouth—it’s expected, and yet … still so unpredictable.

“Think she’ll do it?” he asks with a gesture to the guest room.

“You should ask her,” I encourage with a laugh, having a pretty good idea of how such a conversation will end. I add on a piece of advice to increase his chances. “Just make her come first.”

He gives me a conspiratorial look, like we’re in this shit together. “On it!” He disappears inside the room, shutting them in.

I’m in the process of putting away my food when Banks’s complaining already makes its way through the door.

“Fuck, you’re really picky, you know that?”

I laugh and shake my head, but my amusement is replaced by a scowl at the girl’s cry of “Oh, God.”

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