I stood at the gate, the key cold in my hand, and peered up at the windows where a warm glow leaked through the curtains.
Cameron was still awake.
I walked up the path, opened the door, then hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, my heart beating too fast.
It’ll be fine.Cameron would probably be sketching, or watching something quietly, earbuds in.
I could handle being near him. Of course I could.
I took a slow breath, then another, and finally, I climbed the stairs.
The door opened on the aroma of coffee. Music played quietly through the speaker he’d set on the coffee table, and the song had a pulse, a steady heartbeat that made it feel weightless and hypnotic. The repeating pattern created an almost cosmic atmosphere, like watching stars pass slowly through a window.
Cameron sat on the sofa bed, still folded up this time, his sketchbook balanced on his knees. He glanced up when I stepped in, then reached over to turn off the sound.
“Don’t,” I protested. “What is that?”
“‘Space Song’ by Beach House.” He smiled. “I think I was about twelve or thirteen the first time I heard it. Loved it ever since.” He turned down the volume. “You’re late.”
I brushed raindrops from my lashes, then removed my now damp coat. “I went for a walk. I think I lost track of time,” I lied.
“You went for a walk—in the rain?”
“That was only the last few minutes.”
“Rough rehearsal?”
“Better than the first, actually.” My voice sounded steadier than I felt. “We might even survive another week.”
Cameron grinned. “Congrats, Maestro.”
It was then I noticed.
I stared at the easel sitting in front of the bay window. On either side of it were boxes stacked in piles of two or three.
“You brought the rest of your stuff, I see.”
Cameron blinked. “Is that okay? I mean, the deadline to get out of there was looming, and I didn’t want to leave it all?—”
“Cameron.” I cursed myself for the tremor I heard in Cameron’s voice.
I did that. I made him nervous.
I drew in a deep breath. “It’s fine, okay? I’ll cope. A little chaos now and then is a good thing, right?”
Keep telling yourself that and you might even believe it in about a hundred years.
Thankfully, Cameron seemed to. His breathing evened out. “I’ll try to limit the chaos, I promise.”
I glanced at the mug on the table. “Do you usually drink coffee this late?”
He shrugged. “I needed something to keep me awake. I didn’t want to fall asleep before you got back.”
I froze halfway to the kitchen. “You didn’t have to wait up.”
“I know.” Cameron looked down, twirling his pencil between his fingers. “I just didn’t like the idea of you walking in and feeling awkward because you were in my bedroom.”
My chest tightened in a way that felt entirely unfair.