The end came faster than Cameron could comprehend. Two weeks felt like two seconds, slipping through her fingers before she even had a chance to grasp them. She had thought of nothing but Jasmine since the moment they met, had mapped out countless scenarios in her mind where she'd say something witty, something disarming, something that would make Jasmine look at her differently. But now, standing at the threshold of goodbye, her mind was nothing but static.
Her hands, the same hands that had guided Jasmine through every monotonous aspect of the job, felt useless at her sides. The training had been thorough, precise, and effective—Cameron had made sure of that. If she couldn't have Jasmine, at the very least, she could leave a mark, even if it was just through an efficient transition. A pathetic consolation prize.
She had packed her things the night before, carefully removing each item from the desk that was no longer hers. It had been hers for so long, and now it belonged to Jasmine. The thought sent a fresh wave of bitterness through her, a reminder that she wasn't just leaving this job—she was leaving Jasmine's daily presence, her laugh, her voice, her scent that had made Cameron's world more bearable, if only temporarily.
The office buzzed with the usual chatter of goodbyes. Cheyenne was being her usual sentimental self, throwing out comments about how Cameron had made work so much more fun, how she'd be missed, how she should visit. The other coworkers followed suit, giving their lackluster farewells, as if their words meant anything to her. They didn't. They never had. She could have been gone yesterday, and it would have made no difference to them. Their words were hollow, white noise in the backdrop of the only person she cared to hear from.
Jasmine.
Cameron had spent days meticulously crafting the perfect parting words, something cool, something effortless, something that would linger. And yet, when the moment came, all she managed was a dry, "Good luck, Jasmine. You'll be fine here."
Jasmine's response was just as casual. A warm smile, one of those easy ones she handed out like party favors, and a simple, "Thanks for training me, Cameron. You made it really easy."
That was it. No extra sentiment, no hint of interest, no second glance. Cameron had spent every waking second obsessing over her, and to Jasmine, she was just a fleeting presence in a revolving door of people she would meet in her life.
Cameron nodded, muttered something incoherent, and walked out before she could let the weight of it show on her face. The moment she got into her car, she felt it rise inside of her, hot and unbearable, swelling up her throat like bile. Her fingers clenched the steering wheel so tight her knuckles went white, but it did nothing to ground her.
By the time she pulled out of the lot, she was shaking. The moment she reached an empty stretch of road, she slammed on the brakes, parked crookedly along the curb, and screamed. Screamed until her lungs felt like they would tear open, until her voice scratched raw and the sound barely came out anymore. She slammed her fist against the wheel again and again, her fury aimless, directionless, all-consuming.
How could she have let this happen? How could she have let Jasmine slip away without even trying? She had never had to try before—women had always come to her. She was supposed to be the one in control, the one who got to leave first, the one who never cared more than the other person.
But Jasmine had wrecked all of that. And now she is gone.
Cameron's body trembled as she finally let herself collapse back into the seat, a choked sob tearing from her throat before she could stop it. The reality of it all crashed down on her—Jasmine wasn't just out of reach. She was out of her life. For good.
And now, without her, what was left?
The routine she had clung to before—the flings, the numbing, the nothingness—felt completely unappealing. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had. She would go home, take her pills, drink her energy drink, shower, and paint on the mask again.
But this time, she knew it wouldn't be enough.
Nothing would ever be enough again.