As if sensing the slow fracturing of Cameron's thoughts, Jasmine smiled mid-conversation. She was crouched on the floor, taping up a box with short, confident motions, the tape screeching as she pulled it taut.
"You know," she said casually, like it was just another thought among many. "We should start seeing each other more."
Cameron's brain short-circuited.
The air around her shifted. The room suddenly felt warmer, heavier, like the molecules had rearranged themselves into something volatile.
Jasmine, oblivious to the chaos she had just triggered, kept talking as she smoothed the tape down.
"I feel like we have a connection. It'd be nice to be closer."
Closer.
Connection.
Cameron's ears rang. Her fingers curled into fists inside her hoodie sleeves.
Her first thought wasn't Andrew.
Not once.
The boyfriend—so previously present in her spirals—vanished like smoke. The fact of his existence blurred, irrelevant in the face of Jasmine's words. She felt the old ache return, sweet and sharp, a phantom pain she thought she'd medicated out of her system.
This had to mean something.
It had to.
People didn't just say things like that. Not without intention. Not without feeling. Not unless there was something sitting behind it, something waiting to bloom.
Cameron's mouth moved before she could think.
"I'd like that," she said. Too quickly. Too earnestly.
Her heartbeat stuttered in her chest.
She caught herself. Cleared her throat. Dialed it back. "I mean—yeah. I think we'd have a lot of fun."
Jasmine laughed, amused by her enthusiasm. Her smile had that familiar warmth again, the kind that made everything inside Cameron tilt sideways.
"Cool," Jasmine said. "I'll text you soon about hanging out."
Cameron nodded, pretending her pulse wasn't still climbing. Pretending her entire nervous system hadn't just been hijacked.
"Sounds good," she said, her voice breezy. Controlled. She tucked her hands deeper into her sleeves to stop them from shaking.
She was spinning. Deliriously.
Keep it together. Keep it cool.
The rest of the time passed in a strange, suspended calm. They moved more boxes, made small talk about random childhood injuries, favorite cereal brands, awkward old roommates. Jasmine told a story about breaking her toe during a camping trip, and Cameron had laughed so hard she forgot the tension in her shoulders.
For a second, everything felt like it used to. Or maybe like it never had, but she'd always imagined.
By the time they finished loading up the car, the sun had begun to dip below the buildings across the street, casting a soft amber glow across the pavement. Jasmine stood beside the open trunk, stretching her arms above her head, her shirt lifting just slightly at the hem. She let out a contented sigh, squinting up at the sky.
"Alright," she said, turning back to Cameron with a satisfied grin. "I think I can handle the rest. You're officially free."
Cameron nodded, stuffing her hands into her pockets so she wouldn't reach out, wouldn't touch Jasmine's arm or her wrist or anything she might regret.
"Glad I could help," she said, forcing a casual tone. Her heart thudded against her ribs like it was trying to escape.
Jasmine gave her another one of those warm, open smiles. The kind that dug under your skin. The kind that made you forget how to breathe.
"I'll text you soon," she said, stepping toward the driver's seat.
"Yeah," Cameron managed. "See you."
Jasmine waved.
Cameron raised her hand in return, a loose little motion that barely qualified as a goodbye.
Then Jasmine turned, and the moment passed.
Cameron climbed into her own car with mechanical precision. She pulled the door shut and stared through the windshield, blinking against the gold haze of evening light.
She didn't start the engine right away.
Her fingers curled around the steering wheel, knuckles tight and white.
Then—finally—she let out a slow, shaky breath. The kind that had been building in her chest for hours. Maybe days.
She had done it.
She had seen Jasmine again. She had kept things normal. She had laughed and helped and joked and packed boxes. She hadn't cried or broken down or kissed her or confessed. She had played the role. She had stayed in control.
She should feel proud.
She should feel strong.
But as she pulled away from the curb, the city gliding past her window in golden blur, she didn't feel strong.
She felt...
Buzzing.
Light. Dizzy. Almost euphoric.
Was this bliss?
It felt like it.
Like walking into the sun after weeks of rain.
She grinned to herself—an involuntary, fleeting thing—and shook her head like someone trying to wake up from a nice dream they weren't ready to end.
She wants to see me more.
She said we had a connection.
That had to mean something.
Maybe things were different now. Maybe Jasmine was different. Maybe time had done something to her too. Maybe Andrew was fading from her life, and Cameron had been invited into the soft opening of something new.
She didn't let herself finish that thought.
Not yet.
She just let the heat settle in her chest. Just let herself exist in the afterglow of Jasmine's smile, in the warmth of a possible future that felt, for once, like it might actually be within reach.