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“Wonderful! Wonderful!” Anjolie exclaimed, wiping away fake tears. “Simply magnificent!”

“A definite shoe-in for the Academy Awards,” I added, clapping as I gave the movie a standing ovation.

Anjolie joined me, standing up and clapping. Then, she stood in front of the screen and bowed. I looked around and grabbed up a lamp, handing it over to her. “And the award for best film of the year goes to Anjolie Rivers with her movie,
Homecoming Night
!” I announced, keeping up the charade.

Anjolie took it graciously, fanning her face with mock surprise. “Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!” she cried, bowing again. She faced an invisible audience sitting around on the couches. “I'd like to thank everyone for this amazing movie. But most importantly, I'd like to thank God for giving me the inspiration to conjure up such a fantastic film!” She bowed and waved at the invisible crowd, clutching the makeshift award to her chest. “Thank you!” she cried and then walked back over to the couch, waving like a beauty queen.

When she reached the love seat, she set down the lamp and waved her hand across her face, taking on a solemn expression. “And… scene,” she said, plopping down onto the couch.

I laughed and joined her on the couch, sitting sideways as I struggled to contain my laughter. “Wow, Anjolie,” I said in between spurts of laughter. “A filmographer
and
comedian? You're unstoppable!” I said, wiping away tears.

She laughed as well, shrugging humbly. “What can I say? I'm awesome,” she said. She motioned at me, smiling. “And don't give
me
all the credit. You were a real comic up there as well.”

I shook my head, sighing as I smiled modestly. “Oh, stop it, you're embarrassing me,” I cooed, waving a hand in her direction.

She laughed at my modesty, rolling her eyes at my actions. I liked how we could be so comfortable with each other no matter what the time was. That was the good thing about Anjolie — she was always up for laughs. When we finally caught our breath, I couldn't help but glance shyly at her from under my eyelashes. She met my eyes and returned my shy gaze, picking at a loose strand of thread on her jeans. I watched her lips as she bit them, nervously. And she watched me as I bit mine.

It was quiet. Really quiet. We were staring at each other, saying nothing, our expressions blank. She knew it was coming. I knew it was coming. We both knew it was coming.

But I wasn't going to let anything happen.

I quickly stood up and clapped my hands together. “Well, Anj, I thank you for the excellent viewing this morning—”

“Gonna kick me out so soon, Sloane?” Anjolie giggled, tossing a throw pillow at my face.

I shook my head awkwardly, unable to find words to get myself out of this situation. I kinda
was
trying to kick her out.

Without waiting for my response, she stood up and headed for the kitchen, her cinammony scent echoing throughout the room. I followed her and her scent into the other room. “I walked a gazillion blocks over here at the break of dawn, Cameron,” she said, leafing through my cupboards. “The least you could do is offer me some coffee.”

I laughed. “Okay, Anjolie, would you like some coffee?” I asked politely.

She spun around and clasped her hands together. “Oh I would, thank you,” she gasped, smiling.

I rolled my eyes and walked over to her. “Well, you're looking in the wrong place,” I said. She was looking in all of the lower cupboards, when the coffee was right above her head. She watched me reach up above her head and open the cupboard.

There was absolutely no space in between us.

I heard her suck in her breath when my chest brushed against hers, my arm just inches away from her ear. From this vantage point, I could see, touch, hear, and smell her without looking weird. I didn't even know how I was able to concentrate on locating that coffee. Everything about her was so magical, so mysterious, so utterly lovely; I found it difficult to even blink.

Finally, I had the coffee. I grabbed it down from the shelf and placed it on the counter behind her. I shouldn't have looked in her eyes. I should've just grabbed the coffee and left. I should've just looked away and stepped aside. I should've just done absolutely everything else in the world than look in her beautiful, soft, gray eyes.

But I did. And that's when I lost control.

I leaned into her, catching her lips with mine, kissing them softly and slowly. There was nothing but silence in the room as we shared this delicate moment. This deadly moment. Her lips were warm, smooth to the touch, and painstakingly soft. Pausing for a moment, I brushed her silvery locks away from her face and kissed her again, keeping my hand on her neck and pulling her close. My heart was racing, my blood pulsating through my body as I kissed her, something I've wanted to do for eons now.

She pulled away too soon, meeting my eyes with a look of pure wonder and confusion, and biting her lip with what seemed like concern. But that only lasted a whole of two seconds. Gently, she grabbed my face in her hands and pulled me even closer, kissing me with a little more force and vigor. Taking the hint, I wrapped my arms around her waist and picked her up, carrying her out of the kitchen, through the living room, and then onto the couch.

It was only a matter of minutes until we were wrapped in each other's arms, kissing amorously right there on the ironically named “love seat.” Her hands were tangled up in my hair as my hands roamed up and down her back, squeezing her tighter in my embrace as the kiss deepened. I was on her side of the couch now, her back pressed against the arm hump as we mauled each other, getting lost in our passion. It felt as if I were drinking sunlight, the warmth of the passion seeping deep into my system and taking over my inhibitions. I was becoming drunk with her kisses as we continued to make out on that love seat. I finally understood why the couch had that name.

I was losing air rapidly, but I didn't care. All I wanted was this moment. This moment of emotional release. This tension just had to go. It had to leave the air and wrap up into this emotion, finding its home elsewhere. I kissed Anjolie everywhere — her lips, her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her neck — I just couldn't stop. And she returned my kisses, allowing me the same pleasure. There was simply no end to this moment.

“Hey, Cameron, did you want the photos or—oh!” Dad said from the doorway. Anjolie and I sprang away from each other, my cheeks blazing hot with embarrassment.

“Dad!” I said, my eyes widening at his presence.

But he was already backing out of the room. “Oh, please don't mind me,” he said, smiling awkwardly. “I was just leaving.” As he hurried down the hallway, he yelled, “Carry on!” I heard his door shut.

I slowly stole a glance at Anjolie, who looked more embarrassed than I felt. She quickly stood up, wringing her slender hands. The ones that were just tangling in my hair a moment ago. “Uh, I should go,” she said, reaching for her camera.

All I could do was nod. I was too embarrassed to even say anything.

She smiled awkwardly and grabbed up her things. “You can keep the DVD, I made copies—”

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” I said, standing up as well.

She pointed toward the front door. “I'll just show myself out—”

“I'll grab your coat—”

“That's okay, I got it,” she said and bolted out of the room, grabbing her coat and bag as she left the house.

I stared after her, shaking with disgust. Not because of our kiss, but because of my actions. I just committed adultery. I
cheated
on my girlfriend. Never in a million years would I ever believe that I would become a cheater. I didn't even think I'd get a girlfriend! And now, here I am, making out with another girl, cheating on my first girlfriend and best friend.

I slapped my face once. Then twice. Then a gazillion times, hoping for the cheater inside of me to just leave my body. But the deed was done. I cheated on Olive and there was nothing I could do about it.

I heard a creak at the doorway and glanced up to see Dad peering at me cautiously. “You okay, son?” he asked, having witnessed my slapping-fest.

I shook my head, sighing as I plopped back onto the couch. “I'm a horrible person, Dad,” I said gloomily, staring off into space.

Dad came over and patted my shoulder. “You may be many things, son, but you're definitely not horrible,” he said, sitting beside me. “I knew you were in love with Anjolie since the first day I met her,” he said, lifting his hand up preemptively to my protests. But I didn't protest. It was the truth.

I really was in love with Anjolie.

Dad cleared his throat. “You and Cam are two different people, and it makes sense that you two have fallen in love with two different girls.”

I looked at Dad. “Cam's in love with Olive?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. I saw the way they were looking at each other at the dance, as if they were the only two people in the world. And it sure wasn't one-sided; Olive loved him, too.

Dad nodded his head. “You and Olive together just didn't match. I mean, sure you two were childhood friends and then best friends later, but that was it. I'm guessing you two just wanted each other just to
have
each other. No real feelings.”

He ran a hand through his hair as he interpreted our love triangle — er,
square
. “And now, she met Cam — the true guy for her. I've seen the way he looks at her — the way she looks at him. They have a connection that you and Olive never shared. So it works out that you got into cahoots with Anjolie around the same time. I knew you weren't just giving her rides because you were a Good Samaritan — which you are. But I knew there was something behind your actions. Face it son; you love Olive, but you're
in love
with Anjolie.”

He was right. I was sort of obsessed with being near Anjolie. I wanted to be her knight in shining armor, the guy she could turn to for help. I wanted to protect her. I guess keeping her away from having to walk in bad weather was just one way to show it.

“You and Olive have to talk things through, figure this whole situation out,” Dad instructed, standing up and pulling me up as well. “If you ask me, your sloppy relationship is just getting in the way of things.”

I sighed, nodding my head. “You're right, Dad,” I answered, walking over to the kitchen phone. “I'll call her right now.”

Dad smiled and left the room, leaving me and the phone alone. I stared at it, knowing that I had to call Olive and end things with her. We were just kidding ourselves, trying to salvage something that wasn't even there in the first place. I loved her but… I wasn't
in love
with her. And it'd always been that way.

Picking up the phone, I dialed her phone number. She answered after a few rings. “Hey, Olive,” I said into the phone. “We need to talk.”

I heard her sigh, defeat in her voice. I could tell she knew what was coming. “Yeah, we do need to talk,” she said. Her voice didn't cause my heart to palpitate anymore. The feelings were gone. And judging by the lack of enthusiasm in her voice, I could tell she felt the same way. “Let's meet at the park,” she suggested, and we hung up.

Olive

I really had no idea why Cameron wanted to talk. But what I did know was that he didn't sound too happy. I was guessing he was probably going to call me out on that Homecoming dance video that Anjolie just
had
to show him. I knew he saw me with Cam, watching as we danced and held hands, you know, like normal couples do. I knew he would be jealous that I was with Cam and not with him. I knew Cameron would be feeling a lot of different emotions; he'd be hurt, sad, disappointed, jealous — you name it.

Just not mad.

Cameron wasn't that kind of guy. No matter what happened, he always seemed to see everyone else's point of view. He was never quick to anger, and that was one quality I truly admired about him. We would talk this through, no yelling, no huffing, no fierce ultimatums. Just a chat. Nothing more to it.

So why was I so nervous?

I literally brushed my hair a thousand times this morning, constantly dissatisfied with its appearance. I tried on a bunch of different outfits because nothing seemed fit for my trial. It was a half hour after his call before I was finally ready to meet him.

Now, walking up the grass, headed to the oak tree, I felt mysteriously anxious. A thousand thoughts kept running through my mind, pushing past the rational part of my brain. I kept telling myself that this was just a routine talk — Cameron was just going to ask a few questions and I would just have to plead my case and then we'd be okay again. But I just couldn't get past his words:
We need to talk
. Those were break-up words.

Did Cameron want to break up?

A cold, gusty wind blew into my face, indicating an upcoming storm was about to brew. I shivered, pulling my sweatshirt closer to my body, my anxiety swelling up inside me.

Why was I so nervous? He wouldn't break up with me. I didn't do anything wrong. He
knew
I was going to Homecoming with Cam. And so what if he saw us getting a little friendly on the videotape? Could he blame me? Cam was just like Cameron pretty much. It's not like I was cheating on him with
Armando
or some other guy. It was still his body! I'm not crazy!

I stopped in my tracks and took a deep breath. I needed to calm down. I knew I didn't do anything wrong so why was I yelling at myself? I would just explain all of this to Cameron and he would understand. Like he always does.

I had nothing to worry about.

As I drew nearer to the oak tree, I saw Cameron, dressed in dark jeans and a sweatshirt, leaning against the tree trunk, waiting for me. I swallowed my anxiety and waved at him, smiling my most innocent smile. He returned the gesture, smiling brightly.
See
, I told myself,
nothing to worry about
.

“Hey, Cameron,” I said, coming to a stop next to him.

He smiled shyly, digging his hands into his pocket. “Hey, Olive.” He hesitated before saying, “So, uh, like I said, we kind of need to tal—”

“Listen, Cameron,” I said, cutting him off with a sigh. “I know what you're going to say.” I shook my head, allowing my emotions to surface. I wasn't going to wait for him to grill me, feigning innocence. This talk needed to happen; I was not going to dilly-daddle around it.

Cameron swallowed, his eyes shooting to the floor. “You do?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me with his eyes pointed to the ground. “You're going to grill me about what you saw on the Homecoming tape.” I crossed my arms and looked at him, waiting for some kind of response.

He looked up and met my eyes, his mouth open to say something. But I could see the war going on behind his eyes. He was coming up with something to say, and I knew his next words would take over the conversation. I couldn't let that happen. I needed to be in control. I needed to say what I had to say so that I could twist everything back to normal. He didn't have to know that I was in love with Cam.

Wait. Hold on. Did I just say that? I wasn't in love with Cam. I was in love with
Cameron
, my boyfriend. I was definitely not in love with Cam. I was not in love with his gray eyes. I was not in love with his cocky smile. I was not in love with his warm touch, his radiant laugh, his comedic personality, his kisses. And I was most certainly not in love with the way he makes me feel like I'm the only girl on the planet, and the way he understands me, and the way he makes me laugh on even my worst days.

I was
not
in love with Cam.

“Anjolie and I kissed.”

I cut him off, sticking a finger on his lips. He was not going to control the conversation. “Cameron, you and I both know that you agreed to let Cam take me to Homecoming. What you saw in that video was nothing. We were all just having fun. There was nothing more to it. There's nothing to worry about—” Then his words finally registered to me. “Wait. What did you say?” I could've sworn Cameron said something about Anjolie and him kissing.

Cameron buried his head in his hands and sighed heavily, his voice watery. “I said, Anjolie and I kissed.”

What?

“What?” I cried, my eyes and mouth going wide. He did not just say what I thought he said.

But Cameron was shaking his head. “We kissed, Olive,” he explained, his eyes huge with sorrow. “We were in the heat of the moment. Things weren't supposed to happen that way. I didn't mean to—”

I slapped him. Hard. Right across the face. He recoiled, his hand shooting up to soothe his cheek as he clenched his jaw, refusing to meet my eyes. “You filthy loser. How could you do that to me? Your own girlfriend!” I cried, my eyes stinging with upcoming tears. I knew stupid Anjolie would do something like this, but Cameron? Never would I have thought he would do this to me. He loved me!

“Olive, I'm sorry—” His eyes were pleading as he regarded me, but I wouldn't hear any of it.

“Shut up!” I yelled in his face, my hands shaking with hurt and anger. “Just
shut
up
, you cheater!” My voice was loud, filled with hate as I yelled at him. “I don't want to hear another word of it!” I spun around, my back to him as I crossed my arms, pouting, trying to hold back lame-o tears. I couldn't look him in the face anymore. My boyfriend — my
best friend
— cheated on me. He cheated on me. And here I was, trying to deny any feelings I had for Cam. Here I was, trying to fix something that couldn't be fixed. Cameron was in love with Anjolie — not me.

Cameron grew silent as his eyes stared at my back. I could just feel his remorse, his sorrow, as he stared at me, his eyes wide with shame. It made me sick.

“Olive, I—”

“How long have you been towing me around while you had feelings for her?” I asked, unable to keep the furious bile from spitting out of my mouth.

Cameron sighed, frustration in his voice. “That's the thing,” he said. “This whole thing with me and Anjolie came out of nowhere! We didn't plan any of this—”

“You don't
plan
love, Cameron!” I couldn't help but to cut him off once again. “You
feel
it!” I spun around to him, meeting his sorrowful eyes. “So how long have you had feelings for her?”

He looked away, shaking his head as he tried to come up with an answer. But I already had my answer. His having to think about it gave it all away.

He was
always
in love with her.

“I can't believe you, Cameron,” I said, feeling my eyes grow moist with tears. “You disgust me.” I wiped away at a falling tear.

He was silent as he took in my words, nodding at the ground, a look of defeat in his eyes. I had him busted. I spun around to leave, pulling up my hood as I trudged away in anger.

“So when were you going to tell me you were in love with Cam?”

The wind must've taken his quiet words and drifted them over to me because Cameron sure did not yell it. I turned to him slowly, shooting him with the deadliest glare I could muster. “
What
did you say?”

He didn't even try to look guilty; he just shrugged, knowing that I'd heard him correctly.

I stomped back over to him, my hands balled into fists, contemplating punching him in the face. “Don't you
dare
turn this back on me, Cameron—”

“I'm not stupid, Olive,” he said, this time cutting
me
off. “I knew you guys were more than friends ever since I found out about him.” There was confidence in his voice as he straightened up, the look of sorrow quickly replaced with suspicion.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” I tried, unable to hold my own voice over a whisper. I crossed my arms and looked at the ground.

“Actually, I do, Olive,” he retorted, cocking his head to the side. “I knew you had feelings for Cam since the day you met him. And don't even try to pin that whole ‘you two are the same person' crap on me. You knew we were completely different people, and, yet, you still went for him.”

His words were digging holes into my mind as he said them, keeping my eyes glued to the ground.

He took a step towards me. “And everyone knew it, too. They all saw how you two would kiss and hug and hold hands, as if
Cam
were your own boyfriend. They saw everything, but didn't even tell me. In a way, they're in as much
doodie
as you are.”

He took another step closer, and this time, I stepped back.

“And to think that I gave you the benefit of the doubt,” he said, a hint of humor in his crude tone. “I excused your hanging out with him, telling myself that there was nothing more to it.” He glared at me. “That Homecoming video only verified my doubts. You're in love with Cam and you know it.”

I didn't say anything, afraid that my words would betray me. I kept silent — that way, I wouldn't have to deny or verify anything.

“You know, I wouldn't even be as angry with you as I am right now if you didn't come at me, slapping me like I just killed your grandmother.” He crossed his arms, the anger radiating off of him and hitting me like a ton of bricks. “You're just a hypocrite, Olive! A huge hypocrite!”

I sniffed. “Don't call me that, Cameron,” I murmured, hugging myself tighter. His anger was all so new to me; I didn't even know how to respond.

Cameron snorted. “So what do you want me to do?” he cried, holding his arms out to the side. “
Slap
you? You know I can't do that!” His voice cracked on his last words, the anger in his voice replaced with hurt. “You cheated on me, too, Olive. And not just once,
but a zillion times
.” He sighed and looked at the ground, his voice lowering as the wind picked up. “I screwed up just once —
just
once
! — but at least I told you about it.” He chuckled a little bit. “I even told you right after we kissed — I was that angry with myself. But you—” He pointed at me, his voice getting watery again. “You knew you were cheating on me this whole time, and yet you still have the audacity to keep a smile on your face, pretending to love me even though you don't.”

“I do love you, Cameron—”

He held a hand up to me, silencing my statement, his jaw clenched as he shook his head. “But that's the thing, Olive. You love me, but you're not
in
love
with me. You're in love with Cam and you always have been.” He was taking my words, using them against me as he made his argument. I couldn't blame him. What he was saying was the truth. The whole truth. I was never in love with Cameron. I was in love with the thought that he loved me. I was in love with the idea of having a boyfriend.

I was in love with the wrong things.

It was quiet again as we took in his words. He knew they were true. I knew they were true. We both knew they were true. We were kidding ourselves with this lousy relationship and just couldn't admit it. I was sad that I had hurt him, unable to fend off the pity I felt for the guy. He was nothing but a great boyfriend, and all I did was cheat on him and accuse him of all sorts of things. I was paranoid.

“But what hurts me the most is that you didn't. Even. Tell. Me,” he said quietly.

I looked up at him and the sight broke my heart. He huffed, staring at the ground, trying to maintain his composure. I really hurt him this time. “Cameron, I'm sorry. Please, come here,” I said, holding my arms out to him.

He looked at me, staring at my outstretched arms, contemplating my motives. It was eons before he moved to embrace me, slightly stepping into my arms. I was about to wrap my arms around him but was interrupted by a loud yelling.

“HEY! YOU! GRAY EYES!” someone yelled harshly, followed by many grunts of anger. Cameron and I swiveled around to see the intruders. My eyes widened at the sight.

“HEY GRAY EYES KID!” Pedro yelled at the top of his lungs, stomping over to us as his many heavily armed cronies followed behind him. They looked mean, angry, and out for blood. “YOUR BUTT IS MINE!” Pedro yelled.