119. Too Close

Warning: half naked man ahead, language

Bridgeport, present day...

“Fuck!” Cameron covered his head with one of the lush pillows scattered on his bed, trying to shut out Lola Belle’s screams. He had nothing against the pop singer; it’s the person listening to the music he had a problem with.

Michaela. She was in his living room. Unwanted and uninvited.

The pillows hit the floor with a soft thud when he adjusted his weight a little on the bed, thinking about the past few days...

He’d avoided band practice by calling in sick, afraid of running into her. He’d ignored her calls too, hoping she’d get the hint from his silence; he didn’t want her in his life.

He wasn’t ready for their talk. He’d never be ready. He’d kept prolonging it, putting it off, hoping the issue would resolve itself. Clearly it wouldn’t, something had to give.

He jumped out of bed, threw on a pair of jeans and went to the living room to deal with her.

“How did you get in?” He asked, skipping the pleasantries.

He hovered near the stairs, watching her dance and sing along to the music. He was reluctant to venture beyond; he was safe where he was, as far away from her as possible. 

But SKYY Vodka, his new best friend, beckoned to him with silent promises to make him forget…

“Your butler let me in.”  Michaela stopped dancing and stared at him.

“I see,” he grunted under his breath.

 “Are you mad at me?”

Cameron wasn’t surprised by her question as he reached for the bottle of Vodka on the shelf above the bar. She was perceptive. Painfully forthright too.

He took a long swig from the bottle, swooshed the bitter liquid around his mouth, enjoying the sting in his throat as he gulped it down.

“You should have called.” He ignored her question, and dumped the half empty bottle on the table.

“I did, but you weren’t answering your phone. You missed band practice again. It’s the fifth time this week!” Michaela explained.

“What are you, my keeper now?”

“No, but I’m your friend,” she replied quietly.

“Friend?” He laughed bitterly, and pushed off from the table, making his way to the patio. “I’m not your friend baby girl.”

She followed him. “You need to get your shit together. The band will replace you if you don’t. Krisis’ been talking about it, he doesn’t think you’re sick."

“Fuck Krisis and his band,” Cameron cut in. And she rounded on him.

“Don’t you see, if they replace you, you won’t be my friend anymore? I can’t lose you,” Michaela broke down and cried.

He just stood there, wondering what he should do as he watched her tears fall silently.

He hadn’t thought about things from her end, didn’t even consider how much his friendship had come to mean to her. He’d just been so hell bent on figuring out his weird feelings and putting some distance between them, and in the process his recklessness had worried and hurt her.

He didn’t know when it happened, but at some point, Michaela had come to mean more than a friend should, in fact, more than any seventeen year old should and these last few days, surrounded by only silence in his apartment, he’d finally had the guts to admit the truth, something Krisis had seen way before him. And if he had, Cameron knew J.D. and Krimsyn must have too.

Cameron was disgusted with himself and he’d thought drinking himself to death would purge him of his feelings for her, rid him of the guilt. He’d avoided band practice and the Frosts for that reason. How could he look at them knowing what he knew, and feeling the way he did about their kid?

“Look. I’m sorry,” he pulled her towards him.

He regretted his impulse to reach for her the moment he held her in his arms, feeling all her fears rush out and fill the space, digging his hole deeper.

For a long time he held her and let her cry it all out, wondering how he was going to let her go, she’d come to mean as much to him as he obviously meant to her.

“I’ll be at band practice tomorrow,” he assured her when she’d calmed down.

“Okay,” Michaela smiled at him tearfully, tilting her face upwards to meet his eyes.

Cameron let out a sharp growl when she bit her lower lip, showing her tongue and fangs for a brief moment.

He didn’t know why, but her innocent reflex turned him on, he felt a strange tightening in his jeans.

A small tremor ran through his body as he imagined his mouth covering hers.

Would her lips feel as soft as they looked? Would she give in to his kiss or fight it? Did he even dare to explore her mouth?

He knew he should let her go, push her away from him, and stop staring at her. But he couldn’t, it was almost as if a force outside of him was acting on his behalf as he lowered his head, preparing to take what he needed.

His cell phone vibrated on the table, breaking the spell between them.

 “You should go,” he growled in her hair.

 “But-I…” She stammered.

Her fluttering heart, the shaky way she sagged against him, her ragged breathing, gave her away, and he knew she’d wanted his kiss, needed it as much as he had.

“Now, Michaela. Go. I don’t want you back here.” He pushed her away from him.

“Why?” She asked. It was written all over her, the confusion, and he could feel her trying to make sense of their ‘moment’ and his sudden withdrawal.

“I think we should stop seeing each other for a while. Liza’s back,” he took the easy way out, using his on again/off again girlfriend as an excuse for sending her away.

He saw her eyes harden when he mentioned his on-again girlfriend. No surprise there, he knew she didn’t like Liza; the band hated her too. They all thought he could do so much better. They were right. But the “better” he’d seen was off limits, in so many ways.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Michaela glared at him, her eyes as cold as ice.

He smiled sadly at her question. She was right, he was breaking up their friendship, and he was sorry it had to come to that. But he really didn’t trust himself. Now more than ever, especially after what he’d almost done. He wished he could explain; make her see he was so close to losing control and crossing a line he shouldn’t.

“Go home,” he repeated, hating himself for the crushed look he saw in her eyes.

“Fine, have it your way. But get your shit together because you’ll lose more than my friendship, Cameron,” she hissed, spitting fire at him one last time before she walked out, reminding him again why he’d forgotten she was just a kid.

As young as she was, Michaela had a maturity most seventeen year olds didn’t have, maybe it came with being a rock stars’ child, and all the shit she’d been exposed to in her young life. Or maybe it was just her, level headed and wiser than her years. Whatever it was though had made it so easy for him to forget he wasn’t around a child whenever he was with her.

He shouldn’t have…