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thirty-two

Fractured Souls Sneak Peak

B ANG! BANG! BANG!

I jolt upright, clutching my chest. “What the fuck?” I roll over, groaning with the movement, and clicking my phone on I check the time. What the hell? My eyes focus on the time and eleven missed calls.

The source of those calls becomes clear as my brain wakes up.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“What the fuck, Cam.” Why am I surprised, though?

Who else would be banging on my apartment door at nearly two in the morning?

Thankfully, I’m the only person who lives above this restaurant.

One of the perks of living here is the solitude—and the money off my rent if I play once or twice a week around my other job.

I drag my feet onto the floor and scrub my face. Finding my sleep pants, I pull them on. It’s dark, and I nearly trip over myself as I stumble to the front door, where I look into the eyehole just in case it’s a serial killer and not my pain-in-the-ass best friend.

I am not about to die a virgin.

Lifting onto my toes, I peek through the hole and yep, pain-in-the-ass bestie. I almost don’t want to open it. His blurry form is pacing which is never a good sign.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

I jump back. “Jesus, Cam! Do you know what time it is?”

A thud hits my door as I assume his forehead presses against it.

“Well, it was about midnight when I came home and saw Siena fucking that dude from her cycling class in our fucking living room!” His voice cracks.

“After fighting with her for about an hour I decided to go outside to cool down, then I thought I’d come here because I couldn’t stand going back into our house.

So, one thirty? Two? Do I have that right, Bobo? ”

Shit.

Here we go again.

Having some mercy on him, I open the door, and my heart wrenches at the sight of him. His curly brown hair is a disaster. It looks as if his fingers did laps through it. His lip is trembling, and those sad red-rimmed hazel eyes are aimed right at me and my sanity.

Fuck.

It’s hard to ignore the selfish part of my brain that’s excited about this development. I’m a terrible friend. I get myself together, though, throwing on the best-friend hat and dragging him inside by one of the makeshift sweater paws of his sweater sleeve. “Want something to drink?”

“Bleach.”

“Mm, fresh out, hon. Anything else?”

Cam sinks onto my sofa then falls against it in the fetal position, which would be really funny if the circumstances weren’t terrible.

There goes that little twist my dumbass heart does.

I don’t like it when he’s sad. Tucking his hands back inside the sleeves, he stares ahead.

This is not our first, second, third, or fifteenth rodeo.

This is a routine I know painfully well.

You’d think I’d be immune by now, but nope, it hurts every time. He just looks so defeated.

“Strawberry banana smoothie?”

“Please.” His normally deep voice is so soft. I watch him wipe his eyes with the sweater sleeve. “More straw—”

“Berry than banana. You know I know.” I can’t help but smile a bit, going to my freezer. I always have his emotional support drink on hand. I take out the frozen strawberries then grab a banana from the counter. Opening my fridge, I grab his coconut milk and throw it all in my blender.

I watch him on the couch. Still lying down.

If this wasn’t breakup forty-three, I may feel even worse for him.

We just do this all the time. Not that I don’t feel bad for him.

I do. Cam has a good heart. It’s just always given to the wrong people.

It’s like Cam is color blind where flags are concerned.

Or boob blind, I don’t know, but place a pretty girl in front of Cam and all common sense goes out the window. Boob blinders? Is that a thing?

Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m too cynical, and yes, very fucking jealous of all the women who get a chance with him. But I also see things he doesn’t, and while I feel awful for him, I knew it would end up just like this when he started dating Siena.

He’s far too trusting and far too eager to be in a relationship. I stop the blender, grabbing his glass and metal straw with the cat paw prints he likes.

Cam is gorgeous, tall, with brown skin and beautiful hazel eyes.

He has an athletic build from playing soccer in high school and college, and being a personal trainer now, he’s not hurting for attention.

On top of all that he’s just a good fucking guy.

Take the shirt off his back, and his pants if you need them type of guy.

Cam sits up, thanking me for the smoothie and taking a sip. We sit in silence. I watch him drink and then run his fingers through his hair. Soft hair. Soft hair I love to run my hands through. I hate this. Camden Mateus Almeida is a deadly combination of trouble.

Beautiful, kind trouble.

I know I’m too cynical when it comes to people, but I wish he’d ask more questions instead of rushing into relationship after relationship. Cam sees the good in everyone, especially if they have soft lips, breasts, and thick thighs.

Once Cam is in so-called love, he moves so fast, but it never lasts long for one reason or another.

While it’s definitely his fault, I also blame his childhood.

Cam is the only child of his abusive father and late mother who loved pills way more than she ever loved her own child.

I know it’s why he seeks out validation.

I get it, but he always finds it in the worst possible places.

Then he ends up here, in pieces, waiting for me to glue them back together.

While this heartbreak with Siena is new, this routine of ours is not. Cam always finds his way back to me.

First in elementary school, in my twin bed after his father hurt him.

Then my full-sized bed in high school when his mother died.

Then my queen-sized one in college when his first girlfriend dumped him.

Camden always runs to me whenever he needs someone, and I both love it and hate it because while I will always, always, always be here for him, he can never be there for me in the ways I want. “Is it more strawberry than banana?”

“Yes,” he says softly with a tiny sliver of a smile. “Thank you, Bobo.” He sniffles again. My heart hurts. It’s always my job to comfort him in the ways I can, and not in the ways I want.

Cam had met Siena about six months ago when he’d gone into the grocery store because he wanted me to make him kimchi nachos and came out with her number instead of napa cabbage.

When I met her, I chalked the bad feelings up to jealousy because yes, I was very fucking jealous.

That’s nothing new for me, though. Then I realized, yes, I am jealous, but also, she’s fucking terrible.

Two things can be true.

Cam sets down his drink then collapses forward with his head in his hands. I want to throw my arms around him. But boundaries. For me. And for him.

There’s nothing I want more than to touch him and comfort him, but I hold off. It’s my fault. Every time he does this, I let myself pretend that now is my shot. I’ve tried so hard lately to stop deluding myself. My best friend is straight. He likes women. Beautiful, gorgeous, voluptuous women.

There are times, though, when Cam will be over, and we play games or watch the latest Marvel movie he’s obsessed over, and he’ll lean into me.

Sometimes he’ll sleep with my arms wrapped around him.

It’s sick, and I have to let myself stop thinking he could ever feel the same.

With this girlfriend I texted him less. I avoided visiting them at home. I tried to put a wall between us.

All for me to knock that wall down at the first chance.

Fuck, this doesn’t even matter right now.

He’s my friend. He needs a friend. I am his best fucking friend.

Heart beating way to damn fast, I say fuck it, and loop my arm around his waist and pull him against me.

His large body slumps against mine. “I don’t get it, Bo.

” He sniffs. “Everything was great. How did I miss this?”

I don’t know what to say. “You move to fast.” He gets up, scrunching his dark brows at me.

“You do. You shouldn’t have moved in with her so fast.” She was always rude to me, but I don’t want to tell him that.

He was too happy, and I want him happy. At the end of the day that’s all I want.

He deserves that. “I didn’t like her, Cam. ”

He wrenches from my arms, and I miss the warmth instantly. “What?”

“She just . . . I don’t know. It was a vibe.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Because you never listen to me! “Because you were happy and maybe it was just me being protective. She made you pay for everything, though, and I didn’t like that. You’d both just started dating, but when you moved in you started paying the rent yourself.”

“She helped too.”

“With what?” Cam’s slow grin makes me gag as a soft blush hits his face. “Sex doesn’t count, you pig.” I push him and drink in the first laugh he gives me tonight.

“Nothing like that, you perv.” He smiles. “She helped around the apartment.”

“No, she paid someone to clean the apartment. With your money, I’m guessing. That’s not the same thing.”

“I didn’t mind, though. It was fine.”

I tug him back to me, giving in and running my fingers through his soft hair. A smile grows on his handsome face. “You’re a menace, you know that?”

“I know.” He kisses the side of my head. “Thank you.”

“You know you’re the problem too, right?” His eyes blink open just as they’re about to close and he leans into me. “You’re too sweet and trusting. People eat that shit up.”

“Not you.” He laughs, sitting up now. “You don’t let me get away with anything.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because I knew you when you were a scrawny loser who ate dirt and dared me to steal the good crayons from Ms. Mallory’s closet in first grade, then immediately told on me and cried in front of the whole class embarrassing us both. It’s my job to humble you.”