Camila's POV
I pushed the last bite of pancake around my plate until the syrup smeared into a messy circle. My appetite was gone, but I forced myself to chew, to swallow, to pretend everything wasn't shifting under my feet.
Anthony's promise still echoed in my head: I've already made my choice.
I wanted to believe him. God, I did. But Kara's face — that sharp, wounded silence before she left — burned in my memory. People don't look like that over "just classmates."
The floor creaked upstairs, the muffled sound of running water following. My chest tightened. He was really going to take me somewhere, just us. He was really trying.
So why did doubt still feel heavier than hope?
I set the fork down and rested my forehead against my palm, whispering to the quiet kitchen, "Don't break me again."
Anthony's POV
The shower was hot, almost scalding, but it didn't wash away the knot in my chest. I replayed Kara's expression over and over — the way she froze, like I'd betrayed her. Maybe I had, in some small way, just by letting her believe something was possible. But I'd told her no. I'd made that choice long before Camila showed back up in my life.
Still, seeing her hurt twisted something in me I didn't want to name.
But Camila mattered more. Camila had always mattered more.
I killed the water, towel-dried quickly, and pulled on clean clothes. No more stalling. Today had to mean something.
When I came back downstairs, she was still at the table, her plate barely touched. Her arms were crossed, chin tucked, like she was bracing for a storm.
"Hey," I said softly.
She glanced up, her eyes guarded.
"Ready?"
After a long pause, she nodded.
Camila's POV
The drive was quiet at first. Trees blurred past the window, the hum of the engine filling the silence neither of us wanted to break. My hands twisted in my lap until finally, I whispered, "She looked like you'd broken her heart."
Anthony's grip on the wheel tightened. "She wanted something I couldn't give her." His voice was low, rough around the edges. "But I never promised her anything, Camila. Not once."
"Maybe not with words," I said before I could stop myself.
His jaw flexed. For a moment, I thought he might snap back, but instead he exhaled, shoulders sinking. "You're right. Maybe I wasn't careful enough. Maybe I should've drawn the line sharper. But I swear to you, it was never her."
The road curved, opening to a familiar sight. My breath caught.
Anthony's POV
Her eyes widened when the lake came into view — the same one we'd snuck off to a hundred times before, when the world felt too heavy and it was just us against everything else.
I parked, cutting the engine. "Thought you might remember."
Camila didn't move for a long moment. Then, slowly, she reached for the door handle and stepped out. The breeze caught her hair, tugging strands across her face.
"I do," she whispered, almost to herself.
I followed, keeping a careful distance until she turned back to me.
"You really think we can go back?" she asked, her voice trembling. "After everything?"
I shook my head. "Not back. Forward. Better."
For the first time that morning, her lips curved into the faintest smile. Fragile, but real.
Camila's POV
Anthony insisted on taking me home first.
The ride back was quieter than before, but not empty. My thoughts kept circling the same unanswered questions—Kara's face, Anthony's certainty, the way both couldn't fully exist together in my mind without colliding.
When we pulled up outside my house, I hesitated with my hand on the door.
"I won't be long," I said.
He nodded. "I'll wait."
Inside, the house was still. I kicked off my shoes and leaned back against the door, closing my eyes. The weight of everything I hadn't said pressed down on me.
Upstairs, the shower steamed the room until my skin warmed and my muscles finally loosened. Water ran over me, grounding me, giving me something solid to focus on besides doubt.
After, wrapped in a towel, I grabbed my phone.
Camila:I don't know what I'm doing, Jules. Everything feels complicated again.
The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.
Julia:Complicated doesn't mean wrong. Just don't ignore what your gut is telling you.
I stared at the screen, then locked my phone without replying.
I dressed slowly—pulling on the green sundress that always made me feel a little more like myself. I dabbed perfume at my wrists and neck out of habit, then paused, wondering why I suddenly cared.
Because he's waiting, a quiet voice answered.
When I came back downstairs, my heart thudded harder with every step.
Anthony's POV
Waiting in the car gave my nerves too much room to breathe.
I rested my forearms on the steering wheel, staring at her front door like it might open and close my chest at the same time. I replayed the morning, the lake, the way she'd looked at me like she wanted to believe—but wasn't sure she could.
What if I'd already asked too much of her?
The door finally opened.
And then she stepped out.
The green dress caught the afternoon light, soft and effortless, moving with her like it belonged there. When she reached the car, the door opened—and her scent followed her in, familiar but new enough to knock the air from my lungs.
I forgot what I'd been worrying about.
For a second, I just stared.
"Hey," she said quietly.
"Hey," I echoed, softer than I meant to.
She buckled in, glancing at me like she was waiting for something—judgment, reassurance, I wasn't sure. My hands felt clumsy on the wheel.
"I was… kind of a mess sitting here," I admitted, my voice low. "Just thinking."
She tilted her head. "About what?"
I swallowed, then muttered, almost to myself, "Whether I'm allowed to ask you for a hug."
The words surprised us both.
She didn't laugh. She didn't hesitate either. She just unbuckled and leaned across the console, arms wrapping around me.
Relief hit first.
Then warmth.
I rested my forehead against her shoulder, careful, like I might break something fragile. Without thinking, I nuzzled slightly closer, breathing in the soft trace of her perfume.
"You smell really good," I whispered, not quite trusting my voice.
She smiled against me, small but real.
I pulled back just enough to rest my forehead against hers, our breaths syncing in that quiet space between moments.
"Thanks for coming with me," I said.
Her eyes softened. "Thanks for waiting."
And for the first time since that morning, the knot in my chest loosened—just a little.