Buzzed Hearts

88: intuition first

"I MISS YOU."

    It's a hurt Camila has never once felt in her life. Not the times her pride or ego were wounded because she refused to step down but it's a heart-hurt, the kind that she could see herself growing addicted to. For half of a half-second, her chest squeezes, like it's in a tight hug, and she forgets how to breathe.

    "Miss me how?" she asks Laurent.

    A sigh. "I don't know..."

    "Make up your mind."

    "Why do you sound mad?"

    "Because I am! Laurent." Camila can't tell if she's being rationally sensitive—all she feels at that moment is a rare flash of indignation. "Why do you say that?"

    "I can't say it?" He sounds bewildered, voice raising slightly. "I can't say I miss you? What the hell?"

    "There are implications. Right now, I don't know your intentions with me—"

    "Like you've said before."

    "—so until you make it clear what you want with me, I don't think I can trust you. You led me on for months and you know it. For someone oblivious, you can be pretty observant. I don't believe for one second you didn't know how I felt toward you. So right now, when you say you miss me, I don't feel too great about that."

    Camila is an intuitions-first sort of girl, a mechanism that has never failed her. What it's telling her right now is that she shouldn't find herself in a situation where she'll lose her footing over.

    "I don't know," he finally says.

    "Don't call me until you do."

    With that, she hangs up and continues her solo practice. Afterward, stomach feeling tight, Camila walks right to Jeremy's apartment. Though she has no intentions to relay information about her phone call with Laurent, she feels awfully alone after a whole day of solitude. It's also become routine for them to eat dinner most nights. She waits at the lobby for the elevator.

    As soon as the elevator doors open, Oliver walks out, completely underdressed for the weather. His lean frame is in a white v-neck and sweats, skin tan from his previous vacations. "Are you eating dinner? I ordered takeout. Wait here, I'll be right back."

    This past week, they've grown considerably closer. At least compared to where they were a year ago, where they virtually had zero conversations.

    "Yang said he'd be a bit late so if you're hungry and want to eat first..." Oliver says when they're both inside the elevator.

    Camila nods. "We can wait."

    "Are you okay?"

    They get to Jeremy's floor and Oliver waits for Camila to step out first before joining her.

    "Yeah," she says. "I...ugh. Everything's so stressful right now. I'm just finding it so hard to stay positive."

    Normally, Camila doesn't like to talk about her problems with people outside her tight-knit group of friends but she finds herself sitting in the hallway with Oliver, food getting cold beside them. He offers her a hug and she takes it, leaning on his shoulder as she talks about everything wrong with her symphony piece. There's no way he understands all the terminology but he nods, nonetheless.

    "Have you ever been heartbroken?" she asks. "Not that I am but I just want to know."

    "Yeah. Just two months ago. I'm still not over it," Oliver admits. His hazel eyes close for a second, as if he's remembering the way it felt. They open glassy and opaque, and a fatigued look crosses over his face, highlighted by the veins running faintly across his eyelid and the way his waterline is faintly pink.

    Camila thinks he's just as beautiful as everyone says he is—good looks and an infectious presence—and wonders who broke his heart. Perhaps he has some gross habits no one knows about.

    "Oh, I'm sorry—"

    "No. That's fine."

    "How does it...feel? I know it feels terrible but..."

    "Terrible." He laughs. "She caught feelings for someone else. My chest hurt for days after that. But I don't know, maybe that wasn't heartbreak. It's just about the worst thing to happen to me in a relationship but I think it could be worse."

    "Well, I hope you don't feel anything worse," Camila says, then knocks on wood. "We should go inside."

    "I forgot the keys," he confesses, patting the thin pockets of his sweatpants. "Sorry I didn't tell you sooner but you kinda just collapsed on the floor.

    "Unforgivable," she replies jokingly. "I don't have a spare either."

    "We're just gonna have to wait for Yang."