CHAPTER ELEVEN: HOW YOU GET THE GIRL

broke your heart, I'll put it back together
        I want you forever and ever

CAMRIN WAS GETTING aggravated. He didn't know what Nova thought about the cheesy scrapbook. He didn't know how Nova felt about him. He did kind of know, however, that she cared at least a little bit, assuming she was the one that gave him the blanket. He tried ignoring it, shaking off the nerves and blocking out thoughts of her.

Unfortunately, a few days later, it didn't work anymore.

Yes, Alfred told him to let it all play out, and yes, he said to let her figure it out on his own, but man, he couldn't help it when he reached for his phone and went to messages.

Cam: meet me at wendys? our table?

He groaned as he sent the message. She's never going to show up. God, he should have stuck to what Alfred said. Why was he texting her?

Cam: please?

God, now he sounded desperate. I mean, I am, he thought, but I just don't want to sound it. He wanted her to reply back, but he didn't, at the same time. But what if she did come, what would he say? What would they talk about? Would she bring up the graveyard, with the blanket, or maybe the incident itself?

He paced around his room, straining his ears for the sound of his phone beeping, signaling a text from her, but nothing happened.

Cam: we need to talk

He needed stop texting her. The more he texted her silent self, the more of a dweeb he sounded.

He was staring at the one-sided conversation intently as if she were to reply. His eyesight began to blur and dizzy him the longer he watched, and eventually his phone dimmed and shut off. But then, he heard the familiar ding that said he got a new message and felt his phone buzz in his hands, scaring the living daylights out of him. His hands felt clammy, clammy, and his heart race pulsed very erratically. It might not even be her replying, it may be Troy or something.

Nova: fine. 3:30.

His lip started to bleed from the force of his teeth sinking into it, and his eyes started to cross staring at the text. Oh, he should probably reply. But should he reply quickly? Would he look like too much of a pleader? If that was even a word. Man, he sounded clingy.

It was just Nova, he shouldn't be freaking out. Just Nova.

He slipped on a dark grey hoodie over his short sleeved t-shirt and tied his sneakers. It was only three, but he didn't want to show up late [as always] to Wendy's, so he headed downstairs and entered his truck. He didn't bother to brush his floppy hair, or cover up the bags below his eyes. He didn't care that he was wearing the same ratty t-shirt he wore yesterday, or that it was obvious he wasn't taking care of himself.

He arrived at the local Wendy's and walked straight for the two-seated table in the back. His eyes darted from the door to his phone, hoping he didn't see a message saying she was cancelling on him.

It was 3:37.

He finally saw her enter the building and he pretended to be busy with his phone, as if he hadn't been watching the doors for her for the past thirty minutes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her slip into the chair across from him. He shut off his phone and shoved it in his pocket as nonchalantly as he could.

It was silent between them, no one saying a word as they took in the sight of each other.

Her eyes were the first thing he noticed.

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