It was like she wanted to love me, she just didn’t know how. Or we would camp out in the living room and watch cartoon after cartoon laughing. We’d have moments where she’d come home with all the ingredients to bake cookies, and she wanted to spend time with me. “It wasn’t like that all of the time though. She started off by telling me about her mom, how she never was around, and how she made Bree feel like she didn’t want her. “I figured as much, which is why this might be perfect timing for me to do some talking, if you’re willing to listen.” “I’m sorry, I’m just not much for talking right now.” I had to give her credit, she was trying. “So this isn’t awkward at all,” she said sarcastically. “Thanks,” was all the response I gave her. Maybe that was why Camden picked what he did. I didn’t know how I felt about us sharing the same tastes. There was an awkward silence that loomed between us, and neither one of us were speaking.

“Yes it was, more than you know.” I was fidgeting with my blankets. She came and sat down next to me, stretching out her long toned legs and getting comfortable next to me like she’d known me her whole life. Camden protected her, he loved her, and he was a part of her, because they shared the same DNA. I might know who she was now, but that didn’t mean my brain was yet computing that she wasn’t the enemy. “No, come on in.” I really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anybody, and certainly not her. Uncurling myself, I scooted up the bed and pushed my hair behind my ears.

I thought she had left town already but apparently not. There was a light tapping on the door before it was opened and in walked a showered and refreshed Bree. He wouldn’t forgive me, and there’d be no coming back. If I walked out on Camden, that would be it. The fact that I had a bag packed beside my bed was weighing heavily on me, but the idea of walking out of the apartment not knowing when I’d be back made me want to hurl myself off a cliff. Walls that Camden had painted for me because he was trying to do something nice, something to show he cared. THE NEXT MORNING I WAS LYING in my bed staring at the yellow walls.

Bender by Stacy Borel