The outing came to an end much too soon for Cameron's liking.
They had barely scratched the surface—at least, that's how it felt to her. One moment, Jasmine was laughing over their drinks, her eyes alight with something Cameron swore was interesting, and the next, she was stretching her arms and checking the time.
"I should probably head out soon," Jasmine said casually, oblivious to how those words cracked something deep in Cameron's chest.
Cameron kept her expression smooth, nodding as if she hadn't already begun scrambling for ways to stretch the moment just a little longer.
"Yeah, for sure. Got plans?" she asked, hating how casual it sounded. Like the answer wouldn't send her into a tailspin.
Jasmine shrugged, pulling out her phone to check something. "Not really," she said. "I just have some stuff to do later, but nothing exciting."
Not really.
Then why leave?
Cameron crushed the thought before it could take root, before the paranoia could lace its way through everything that had felt good about today.
She leaned back in her chair, shifting gears. "Well, this was fun. We should do it again."
"We should," Jasmine said easily, smiling as she slipped her phone back into her bag. Then, with a kind of offhand sincerity that made Cameron's pulse stutter, she added, "Actually, we should hang out more often. Like, regularly."
Cameron blinked.
The words didn't register at first. When they did, they hit with equal parts exhilaration and dread. Her stomach flipped, her mind tripping over itself.
Regularly.
This was what she wanted, wasn't it?
"Yes," Cameron said too quickly, her voice almost catching. She cleared her throat, dialed it back. "I mean—yeah. Just let me know when."
Jasmine grinned and stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Will do. Alright, I should really get going. Thanks for today, Cam."
Cam.
Jasmine had never called her that before. It was such a simple, throwaway nickname—short, effortless—but to Cameron, it felt like a brand seared onto her skin.
She watched as Jasmine walked away, something in her tightening with each step. It felt wrong to watch her go. Like the moment was supposed to last longer, or evolve into something else, something more solid and definable. But it was slipping away, just like all the others.
She didn't chase.
Didn't call out.
She had to be cool about this. Play it safe. Don't get clingy. Don't blow it.
So she just smiled and offered a lazy wave, her hand falling to her side as Jasmine disappeared down the street.
The second she stepped back into her apartment, the spiral began.
At first, it was subtle. Just a flicker of thought. Did she mean it?
But then came the rush—fast and heavy. Her mind picked apart every word exchanged, every glance, every shift in Jasmine's tone. Hang out more often. That wasn't nothing. It couldn't be. People didn't say that unless they meant it… right?
She replayed it all—Jasmine's laugh, the way she'd leaned in, the way her knee had brushed Cameron's under the table without either of them moving away. The casualness of Cam, spoken like she'd been saying it for years.
Was it out of affection?
Familiarity?
Or pity?
Cameron groaned, dragging both hands down her face as she paced the length of her apartment. Her pulse was erratic, her thoughts racing in circles with no off-ramp.
She needed to stop.
She needed to shut her brain up.
The pills were first—two, then three. Prescription benzos she wasn't prescribed, borrowed from "friends" who didn't ask questions. She chased them with vodka straight from the bottle. The burn was welcome. Grounding.
But it wasn't enough.
The anxiety was still crawling beneath her skin like fire ants.
She popped another pill. Then another drink.
By the time the numbness started to creep in, it was like sliding underwater—everything dulled, slowed, blunted. Her thoughts didn't quiet, exactly. They just got softer, further away. Manageable.
And in that soft haze, she made her decision.
She wasn't going to let this become another dangling maybe. She needed to anchor it. Cement the connection.
She unlocked her phone, thumbs trembling slightly as she opened their message thread.
The text had to be light. Casual. Normal.
Not desperate.
Not spiraling.
Just a breezy callback to the conversation they'd had. A joke. Something safe.
Cameron: [So, when am I getting my next astrology lesson?]
She stared at it for a long moment.
It was good. Flirty, but not intense. It could pass for a joke. It could pass for a lot of things.
She hit send before she could talk herself out of it.
Her heart pounded as the little "delivered" icon appeared. She set the phone down like it might explode in her hand.
Then she exhaled. A long, shaky breath.
It was out of her hands now.
And so, she waited.