When we pull up at the apartment building Cameron lives in, I feel out of place all over again. It makes sense that he'd rent someplace nice, but this is leagues above most places I've ever seen let alone lived in.
He pays the driver and buzzes us in, leading us over to an elevator and pressing the button.
"It's nice," I try to say, but it comes out wavering.
"Thanks," Cameron replies, dragging out the word. "My mom picked it."
"Why?" I ask.
"Probably so she could have spy cams installed or some shit," he tells me bitterly, and Avery laughs.
"Oh…" I mumble. "Yeah, she seems… protective."
"To say the least," Cameron says in that same bitter tone.
When we reach his floor, we exit the elevator and walk down a long hallway until stopping in front of a door. Cameron opens it and I follow him and Avery inside. The place is nice. Really nice. It's kind of minimalist and he has some interesting looking pieces of art up.
"So, this is it," he says to me. "I'll give you a tour later."
"Sure," I reply, taking in what I can as we walk past the living room.
"Anyone want anything to drink?"
"Hell yeah," Avery responds, yanking open the fridge for herself. "What d'you got?"
I peer inside and check out the options. Jeez. Even his kitchen is spotless. I can't imagine keeping my space this clean.
"Uh, liquor," Cameron walks over, butting her out of the way and opening the freezer. "Juice, I guess, if you need it."
The way he says that sounds leading like he has plans for us other than more cocktails.
"Rose's gonna be annoyed if I show up all sloppy," Avery argues.
"Who cares?" he drones. "She'll get over it."
Avery gives him a look but comes around. "I guess I'll have gin then," she decides.
"And soda?" Cameron offers.
Avery nods and he mixes her drink, playing bartender. He hands her the glass and then looks at me.
"Um, I'll have the same," I say for the sake of convenience.
Cameron nods his head and then mixes mine.
"Careful," Avery warns me. "He makes his drinks strong."
"I can handle it."
"Rudy likes his drinks strong, too," Cameron insists.
That's true, but only when I actually want to get drunk.
When he hands the drink off to me, I sniff and then take a sip. Yeah, it's strong, but not as strong as some I've had. Some I've made.
Without saying anything, Cameron takes a swig straight out of the bottle. Then he takes it with him, walking past Avery and me and out into the living room where he plops down on the couch. When we follow after him, he holds up a hand as I approach.
"Shoes off," he says, pointing at my feet and then the white rug.
I look down at my sneakers and then at Avery, who seems to have taken her shoes off sometime between now and entering the apartment.
"Sorry," I apologize, backtracking a few steps and leaving them in the kitchen.
When I return, I join them on the sofa. Cameron flicks the television on and starts to aimlessly channel surf. I get uncomfortable, so I start taking slow, steady sips on my drink. I stare at the TV, but Cameron's indecisive. It takes him a while to settle on something and when he does, he just ends up picking the remote up again.
"Don't do that," Avery says. "It's annoying."
He tosses her the remote. "Then you pick."
She settles on some sitcom I'm unfamiliar with. I don't know much about movies or television shows. I don't watch much. I never have.
Cameron keeps working on the bottle in his hands and once Avery finishes her drink, the two of them start passing the liquor back and forth. After a while, Avery's eyes start to droop.
"I've gotta get home," she says eventually, nodding her head loosely.
"Ugh, don't," Cameron argues, slurring his words and sounding utterly fucked up. "Stay and get breakfast tomorrow."
"Gotta," Avery repeats.
Wow. Somehow I managed to avoid being the drunkest one tonight. That's a first.
She pulls out her phone and orders an Uber, then forces herself up and starts to gather her things.
"Loser," Cameron sneers as she laces up her boots.
"You're the loser," she replies, but it's half-hearted.
I wave as she leaves and once she's gone, Cameron glances at the drink in my hand.
"You really don't want to get trashed, do yah?"
"No."
"Why not?" he asks. "Seriously? Is it just because you don't want to do anything dumb?"
"I guess."
"Well, it's not like I'm going to judge you. If I didn't judge you for letting all those old guys fuck around with you, I sure as hell I won't judge you for any other shit you've done."
I think about that for a second.
"Yeah, you say that now…" I finally mumble, "but it's hard not to judge people. We automatically do. We can't really control how we feel about things."
Cameron slumps down and slowly slides off the couch so that he's sitting on the floor, letting his head fall back on the seat cushion and staring up at the ceiling.
"That's really…" he pauses like he's trying to remember what he wanted to say.
"What?"
He takes another swig of the liquor, which is mostly gone at this point and rolls his neck over so that he can look at me.
"Paranoid," he says.
Maybe. I don't feel that way though. I'm just looking out for myself. People like Cameron can get away with saying whatever they want because they're so well-liked that people will just excuse it. I don't have that luxury though.
"I'm just being cautious," I justify.
Cameron shrugs. "Whatever, man. I'm just saying that you don't have to be around me, yeah?"
"Yeah," I mutter, but I just don't feel like that's true.
I do have to be careful around him. I have to be especially careful around him.
"So, drink up," he says for what feels like the millionth time tonight.
"I am."
"Well, do it faster," he snaps.
He takes a swig of the bottle in his hand. It's a long, cringe-worthy sip, but he stays expressionless. He's so drunk his taste buds are fried.
Cameron has been drinking a lot tonight and it's getting to the point where I'm actually concerned, especially considering he's only half-forming sentences. I'm sure he knows how to handle himself, but part of me feels like I should say something.
"How are you feeling?" I decide to ask. "About like, the show?"
"Don't ask," he blinks slowly. "M'not thinking about that."
"Okay," I force a weak smile.
I guess I'm surprised. Avery said he would want to vent more. Maybe he does, just not to me.
"Um… did you want to talk about something else?" I venture.
"Let's talk about you instead."
"Like, how?" I ask, feeling nervous.
"Dunno. Talk about whatever you want. Tell me somethin' I don't know."
Damn it. What am I supposed to say?
"Um…"
My head is completely blank.
"Any siblings?"
"No. I'm an only child."
"Me, too," he replies. "It's better that way in my opinion."
I don't know. Sometimes I wish I had a sibling. Then maybe the abuse could've been distributed.
Nah… I'm kidding. I don't really wish that.
"Yeah, I suppose," I mindlessly agree.
"What about high school?" he asks. "Y'hate it?"
I nod, not giving much of an answer.
"Thought so," he laughs, letting his head roll back so he's staring at the ceiling again. "Sucks."
"What about for you?" I pry, already pretty sure I know the answer.
"Awesome," he answers simply. "Like college but no responsibilities. Just fucked around."
"Ah," I mouth. Not surprising.
He turns his head slightly so he's looking at me.
"Haven't you had any good experiences in your entire damn life?"
"I don't know," I admit.
Nothing comes to mind.
Cameron snorts at that. "Well, why aren't you dead? No offense. Your life sounds miserable."
"I don't know," I repeat. "I don't want to die. That freaks me out."
"Fair," Cameron mumbles. "Pretty freaky."
I lean back and try to think of something good in my life, but I can't. I don't have any close family. I have parents, but they were horrible to me. I've never had friends. I've had people I've used. People who have used me. Mutually beneficial relationships that never went deeper than the physical aspects. I got what I wanted, and they did too.
"I'm trying to think of something good that's happened to me," I confess, "but I literally can't."
"Try harder," he says. "I'm sure there's something. Maybe somethin' small you're overlooking."
"Maybe like…" I pause, unsure of if I want to say it. "I dunno, I like hanging out with you and Avery."
That's the truth. I finally have friends. At least, I think they're my friends. I'm still uncomfortable and tense about things, but this is leagues better than anything I've had in the past. I feel like they care. They want to know about my life, don't they?
"Aw," Cameron coos. "Are we your good thing?"
"Yeah," I confirm, hoping it's not awkward.
"That's sweet," he says mockingly.