CAMBRIA

THIRTY-THREE

She awoke the next morning feeling a mixed array of emotions. Contentment, guilt, confusion. The daylight was sobering, as was her reality now that the drugs were out of her system. Mostly. She felt sleepy and euphoric, the aftermath of the night before. Jackson lay next to her, sound asleep.

She shook him gently until he stirred. In his eyes she saw bewilderment, and then melancholy.

"I can't believe she's gone," he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Cambria did not know how to respond. She'd never been good at dealing with death. Even after losing her brother, she didn't know how to cope. She hated the condolences people would give, never knew how to properly respond. "The house will be so quiet without her."

After that, they didn't talk about it any further.

The words were on the tip of her tongue, what she needed to say next. She didn't want to, but knew she had to. It was time they finally addressed everything. What was said that night at her house; the convolution between them; her situation with Finn– everything. She dreaded it, knowing that Jackson hated talking about this stuff. But she couldn't keep it in any longer.

But before she had the chance, Jackson was pulling her body to his, snuggling in close. She let the moment linger, just fleetingly, thinking surely she would put a stop to it soon. In just a minute. But then he kissed her. And she was so pleasantly caught off guard by the whole thing that it never even occurred to her to stop it. He had never kissed her sober. Anything that had ever transpired between them had always been done under the influence. But this? Sober? In broad daylight?

She liked it.

He moved on top of her, kissing her so slowly, so passionately, that she seemed to forget about everything else. Not his dead dog, not the conversation she intended to have – none of it. And as he took off her clothes and moved inside of her, she couldn't help thinking how right it all felt.

Afterwards, he collapsed next to her, out of breath. She moved her hand down and felt where he had just been, brought it up, only to see that it was covered in blood.

"Oh, fuck."
He looked over. "Bad timing."

She hastily threw on her clothes and rushed to the bathroom. Once she had cleaned herself, she went through the cupboards until she found paper towel and Lysol.

She returned to the bedroom, but by then, Jackson had already cleaned the sheets where the blood stain had been. It wasn't as bad as she thought.

She climbed back into bed, an overwhelming feeling coming over her, and she cried. She was sad, she was embarrassed, she was confused.

Once the tears had ceased, she looked over at Jackson. "Maybe we shouldn't be friends."
He seemed completely taken aback. "What are you talking about?"
"I just don't know what to do anymore. Everything's so messy and complicated."
"Where is this coming from?"
"What do you mean where is this coming from? Have you not been paying attention? To anything? At all?"
"I'm so confused right now."
"You're confused? I'm confused!"
"Is this because you got your period? Because I don't care about that, it's not a big deal."
"This isn't about my period, Jackson. It's about me and you. And everything going on between us."
"What's going on between us?"
"I don't know, you tell me."
He didn't respond.
"Why are you so bad at dealing with this stuff?" she asked. "Why can't you just be a normal fucking human?"
"I don't know why you're so angry all of a sudden. Is it the PMS?"
"Holy fuck, if you bring up my period one more time..."
In silence they stared at each other.
"Do you care about me?" she asked.
"Well, obviously. You're my friend."
"I mean as more than a friend."
He didn't respond.
"Would you care if I was seeing someone else?"
He remained silent as he contemplated this. "What do you mean? Like, if you had a boyfriend or something?"
"Yes, that's exactly what I mean."
He thought about it again. But by this point, she already knew what the answer would be. So when he opened his mouth and said, "no," she was not at all surprised.
She scoffed. "Figures."
"Why are you even asking me that?"
"Because I do," she snapped.
"You do what?"
"Have a boyfriend. I've been seeing someone."
He stared at her. "What?"
"You heard me. I have a boyfriend."
"Right now?"
"Yes, right now."
"Since when?"
She shrugged. "Like, a month."
He didn't respond, instead choosing to stare at the wall, fuming, as he processed this information.
"You said you wouldn't care."
"I don't."
At that she had to laugh. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"Is it serious?"
"I don't know."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I don't know that either."
"I'm supposed to be your best friend, but you couldn't even tell me that?"
"Are we?" she said. "Best friends?"
"I thought we were."
"And what about this?" she gestured between them. "What do you call that?"
He shrugged. "I don't know."
"Me neither."
"So this entire time... Have you been sleeping with him?"
She didn't respond.
"Nice," he said. "Classy."
"Fuck you." And then she started to cry again, her body trembling as she sobbed.
He moved closer, brought her into him. She dissolved in his arms and he held her to his chest, stroking her hair, moving it out of her face, which was wet from tears.
Once she was composed, she moved away from him, sliding down further into the bed, pulling the sheets to her chin. She stared at the wall, not saying anything at all.
"You asked me a question," he said, finally breaking the silence. "That night at your house."
She didn't respond.
"I'm going to ask you something," he continued. "And I don't want you to avoid it or beat around the bush. I just want you to answer it honestly."
Of course she would. Why would she lie at this point? She'd been waiting for him to ask this. And knew that when he finally did, she would answer it, wholeheartedly. "Okay."
He looked at her. "Are you in love with me?"
"Yes."
They held eye contact, and then she broke away, something she never did. But she couldn't do it, couldn't face him like this, not when she was this vulnerable, this exposed, and he was not.
"This is why you shouldn't be in a relationship with someone," he said. "Because you're in love with me."
Enraged, she looked at him. "What the fuck do you expect me to do, be single forever?"
"Yes."
"You're insane, you know that?"
"I asked you two years ago if you had feelings for me. And you said no."
"Because I didn't! That was the truth."
"But you do now?"
"Maybe I always have. Maybe I just didn't know."
He remained silent.
She wanted to ask him the same question back, but didn't, out of fear of what the answer would be. She thought she was so sure, but now she was not. And she couldn't do it, couldn't ask him that, and risk the answer being no.
It would kill her.
"So you feel nothing towards me," she said instead. "Nothing at all?"
"I never said that."
"I'm confused."
"So am I, Cambria. I've had it encoded in my brain that we're friends. Best friends. And now all of a sudden, that changes?"
"I know. Trust me, I know. We have a perfect friendship, one that I love and cherish. I don't want to ruin that, or jeopardize that, because I can't lose you, not again. We've always worked so well together, as friends. And I think, maybe, that's why I allowed things to progress with Finn. Because I actually want a shot at real love. And with you, there's so much uncertainty. I need stability. Longevity. Someone who will love and care for me unconditionally. And Finn can give me that."
"I understand."
"So, now what?"
"I don't know."