Bad Things

11. Relinquish

Somehow, that was worse. Wanting him.

Wanting him was worse.

Because when Camila wanted something, it only ever ended in disappointment, in heartbreak. In second grade she wanted a puppy, but her father told her there was no way he was cleaning up after another living thing. In fifth grade she'd wanted her mom to go on the field trip to the art museum in the city with her class, but her mom "forgot" and ended up having lunch with a friend instead. Last year she wanted her relationship with Niall to work, to make her stupid, stupid heart love him back even though it didn't. Camila hated to want, hated being vulnerable enough to give someone else control over her feelings. To give them the ability to crush her.

And wanting Shawn would crush her.

Not because she was pregnant. Not because she'd lost her virginity to him. Not because there was no way in the world either of their fathers would let them be together. But because he made her feel that thing she'd always wished she could feel with Niall. That thing that made her want him to tuck her hair behind her ear again, to feel his fingers between the spaces in hers, to let him kiss her mouth, to hear his voice tell her again and again and again how she'd be worth it. That thing that made her wish her message inbox had held something instead of nothing when she'd checked her phone. That dependency on someone else to make her feel whole, wanted, needed.

That was dangerous to her.

Shawn Mendes was dangerous to her.

She was treading water in this sea of confusion. Of fear. Of want. And she didn't know how much longer she could fight to keep her head above it all. And what was worse, she didn't even know if she wanted to. Part of her wanted to drown, to let go and let herself fall and smother in all of it. In him. But another part, her more rational part, knew that if she did that, if she let herself drown, she'd never come back. She'd never make it out alive.

Camila turned over onto her side, tucking her hands under her face, and stared at her cell phone. Buzz, she commanded it in her mind. Buzz. She knew it was ridiculous, that it was two in the morning and he was most likely asleep. He'd had an away game in a city a few hours from their town, and then would probably have his normal practice with his dad in the morning. She hadn't planned to talk to him today at all, but still, she couldn't shut off her mind long enough to sleep more than ten minutes at a time. And when she did sleep, all she did was dream of him. Camila closed her eyes once more, trying so hard to just become oblivious. She had that stupid cheer competition at Whitecastle in the morning and she just needed some sleep! Her hands clenched around the edges of her pillow, but her mind raced. She was going crazy. Her parents were going to have to have her committed for obsessive obsessing over whether or not to be with a boy who has made it perfectly clear he wants you. God, she had to be insane to keep holding out, right?

Over the last two weeks he'd done everything she asked. He'd answered all her stupid questions: What's your favorite colour? Green. What's your favorite food? Chocolate chip muffin. What is your dream school? NYU. And on and on and on. Shawn hadn't refused to answer anything, even if he thought his answers might upset her: Who was your first? Keira. But still, even with as open as he'd been, as sweet as he'd been, Camila couldn't quite let herself go. Couldn't quite let herself trust. Why? Why, why, why? She asked herself over and over and over again. But the answer never came. It was always the same: that flare of want would come up when she was talking to him, and she'd think about just doing it, just telling him she wanted him. But she never did. Something held her back. Something larger than her, larger than her own understanding. It was like an invisible hand clamped over her mouth and somehow, at the same time, squeezed her heart, not allowing her to move past this point.