Page 9 of Bring You Back

Camille is a distant memory, one I intend to keep far behind me. She has no right to be here. Not now. This is a bad reunion I want no part of.

3

Grapefruit

Camille

“Sorry,” Tommy says as soon as he reopens the door.

“You didn’t slam a door in my face. Still apologizing for everyone, Tommy?” I step past him and set my things on the table beside the door, my stare accusatory.

“No,” he says with a face as he swings the door shut. When our eyes reconnect, he shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans with a lift in his shoulders. “Yeah.”

I laugh. “Nothing’s changed, then.”

Now that’s not entirely true. Appearances don’t always match what’s happening inside them. One look from Tommy confirms that.

I take a moment to look around, my eyes catching on the same tall cupboards, steel refrigerator, gas stove, scratched up island from many late night homework sessions. Everything is teal and white over gray hardwood floors. There are many laughs, tears, fights that took place in this kitchen. Even more on the couch in the connecting living room, a favorite spot to pile with snacks for a movie. Or a dreaded video game.I’ll have to see if the stain is still there.

It’s all so familiar, yet deceiving. The feel is different, off.

Tommy sways as he thinks of something to say to me. It’s a bit awkward now. But he’s given me words, and he hasn’t slammed a door in my face. So far, it seems the only one who is actually pissed at me is Julian. No real blame there. I hurt him the most.

To him, Iama ghost. He looked at me like I’d been expelled, then found a way back to re-haunt his life.

Tommy opens his mouth to speak again, but Grumbles meows, thwarting his attempt. I hurry to open her carrier. She needs water, food, and a good stretch. I could use the former two myself.

“Naomi will love that,” he says with a laugh, now beside me, curious to meet Grumbles.

Naomi loves cats, but she never had one of her own because of Julian. He hates cats. Which is odd, considering his feelings for me that came to light last summer. He’ll just have to get used to her, and me again. His mother always had a soft spot for me, and if she lets us stay, like I feel she will, we’re staying.Aren’t we, Grumbles?I stroke her chin as she pokes her head out to inspect the place.

Tommy holds out a finger for her to sniff. “He yours?”

“Sheis.”

Grumbles eases out and rubs her head against Tommy’s opened palm. He scratches her head and she eases out more. “She likes you,” I say to his smile that fades as soon as the words leave my mouth.

A faraway look passes over his face, but it’s nottoofar away, because I know where his thoughts have landed. Reyna causes that look—the hazy eyes and soft smile, tinged with a wistful longing for someone he has, but not in all the ways he wants to. I can still read him like my favorite book. We’ve teased him about “the Reyna look” when she wasn’t around to hear. Even if she was, she was too blinded by her unrequited feelings for Julian to notice Tommy’s feelings for her.

I give him another accusatory stare and he eyes me, knowing what’s coming. “You still haven’t—”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“High school’s over. It’s the last summer—”

“Exactly.” Grumbles rubs her side against his stomach, shedding black hairs onto his gray T-shirt, and he scratches her back.

“You’re still with Shelby,” I accurately assume of his relationship that started a month before I left.

“I like Shelby,” he says simply, and I don’t question him. Tommy doesn’t use people. If he says he likes Shelby, he likes Shelby. But Shelby is still no Reyna.

“Life’s short, Tommy,” I say, then shrug. That wasn’t his lesson, it was mine. And this isn’t my battle. “Suit yourself.”

He watches me remove Grumbles’s blanket from the carrier and relocate it to the table. Grumbles eyes the pink fleece, and curls up, her slow blinking stare back on Tommy. But his stare is still on me, and I sense there’s something he’s not telling me. Something else that I need to know. I pressure him with a sharp, unwavering look that always gets him to divulge.

“Reyna’s with someone, too,” he says.

This isn’t news to me. Reyna has dated the most of our group, been around the block or two. Like mother, like daughter. She insists she’s nothing like her mother, but she is. On the surface, she is. We’re all like our parents. Take mine. The Godfreys are known for splitting, cutting ties, not to be seen or heard from again. They skipped town when Caleb and I were kids and left us with our Uncle Rod who left us a couple years back when Caleb was old enough to care for us both himself. We’re leavers.

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