Page 53 of Married As Puck
I splash cold water on my face, grip the counter and try to breathe.
I hear a sound behind me. It’s a faint rustle, barely discernible.
I turn as I see something slide under the stall door. It’s a folded note.
Slowly, I bend and pick it up. The handwriting on the paper is neat but slanted like someone was writing while looking over their shoulder.
Be careful. Eyes are on you. Not everyone here is your friend.
There’s no name so I don’t have a clue who sent it. I stare at it so long the words blur.
My mind goes back to Brie still seated out there. I fold the note and shove it deep into my pocket then I exit the bathroom with one location in mind––Brie.
21
Cameron has been on edge since the dinner party, and tonight it’s worse than ever. I sit on the couch, watching him do his thing from across the living room floor. The sharp flick of his lighter cuts through the silence, followed by another inhale, another exhale. Smoke curls around him like a storm cloud he can’t escape.
He doesn’t drink—I sort of figured that out. But the cigarettes… he only smokes like this when he’s cracking under pressure. And right now, he’s tearing through one after another as if the nicotine is the only thing holding him together.
“Cam,” I say quietly.
He ignores me, eyes fixed on some invisible point on the floor. His jaw is tight, movements rigid, almost like he’s vibrating with nerves.
“That’s your fifth one in less than ten minutes,” I point out. My voice is calm, but inside I’m unsettled.
“So?” he asks like it’s not a strange habit.
“So…what’s going on? What’s with all the cigarettes?”
“It’s all I’ve got,” he mutters, voice low, rough.
I push up from the couch and cross the room, standing right in his path. He stops but barely glances at me. “That’s crap and you know it,” I shoot back. “You only smoke like this when something’s eating you alive. And it started after that dinner party.”
He exhales smoke through his nose, almost laughing, but it’s humorless. “Drop it, Brie.”
Cameron lights another cigarette, the flame flickering across his face before the smoke swallows it. He drags in a deep inhale, holding it like he’s trying to burn whatever’s eating him alive from the inside out. The other one isn’t completely finished yet, but it seems he’s done with it.
I fold my arms, grounding myself because watching him self-destruct is unbearable. “You keep doing that, and you’re going to choke yourself before you ever deal with what’s actually wrong.”
He exhales, a sharp stream of smoke aimed anywhere but at me. “Brie, I said drop it.”
“No.” My voice is steady, but my heart is racing. “You’ve been tense since that party. You barely sleep. You don’t eat unless I shove a plate in front of you. And now you’ve turned into a walking chimney. I’m not stupid, Cameron. Something happened. What the hell happened?”
His jaw ticks. His hand trembles just slightly when he goes to tap ash into the tray, and I notice it, even if he pretends he doesn’t.
“I’m fine,” he mutters, voice clipped.
“Bullshit.” I step closer, close enough that the smoke curls between us, stinging my eyes but I don’t move. “You’re lying through your teeth, and you’re bad at it. So stop trying.”
His eyes flash, sharp and irritated. “Why do you always have to push?”
“Because you won’t let me in unless I do!” My voice rises, breaking through the thickness of the smoke. “You keep building walls and pretending you’re invincible, but you’re not. I can see you falling apart right in front of me. And I can’t just sit here and watch you self-destruct without even knowing why.”
He grips the edge of the counter, knuckles white, cigarette dangling dangerously close to burning his fingers.
“You wouldn’t get it,” he says, but his voice is quieter now. Rougher.
I take another step, now so close that I could reach out and touch him if I dared. “Then explain it to me. Make me understand. Because the way you’re acting—it’s scaring me, Cameron. And I don’t scare easily.”
