The space between them had always been small.
Even when they weren't touching, Cameron could feel Jasmine's presence like a current in the air—constant, electric, pulling at her with invisible strings. And lately, those strings felt like they were wrapped around her throat.
Tighter every day.
Cameron hadn't heard from Jasmine in over twenty-four hours, and it was already tearing her up inside. The silence was unbearable. Loud in its own way. Her mind spiraled—had she said something wrong? Has Jasmine gotten bored? Was she spending time with Andrew again?
Or worse—had she started pulling away for good?
It wasn't just anxiety. It was grief, preemptive and suffocating.
The shift had been subtle at first. A few delayed replies. Less warmth in her voice. Jasmine pulled away when Cameron reached out—literally and figuratively. She still smiled, still sent heart emojis, still texted hey babe unprompted. But something had changed. And it was the not-knowing that was killing Cameron.
She stared at her phone, screen dim, thumb hovering over the message thread.
She didn't type. Not yet.
She'd learned to wait.
Because when she reached out first, the power slipped away.
And when Jasmine reached out? That was proof. That was a relief.
And then, finally, the buzz. The screen lit up.
Jasmine: [Hey, we should hang out soon.]
Cameron let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Her pulse steadied. Just seeing Jasmine's name again made the world click back into place.
Still, something about the text felt… different. Less flirty, less charged. It read more like an obligation than an invitation.
But she pushed that thought away.
She replied instantly.
That evening, they met at a dimly lit bar Jasmine liked—one of those places with low ceilings, velvet booths, and cocktails that cost more than a decent meal. Jasmine slid into the booth with her usual grace, but Cameron noticed it immediately: the tightness around her eyes. The edge in her laugh. Something inside her was vibrating.
Cameron waited for her to settle before asking, "What's going on with you lately?"
She tried to keep her voice casual, but it didn't land right. There was tension beneath the words. Too much need.
Jasmine looked at her over the rim of her glass, her expression unreadable. "I'm fine," she said, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. She took a long sip of her drink, and Cameron saw it—the faint tremble in her fingers.
Something was off.
Before Cameron could press further, Jasmine changed the subject with practiced ease.
"So… what about you? Still hanging out with her?"
The words landed hard.
Cameron blinked. "Rosalie?"
Jasmine didn't answer. She didn't need to.
Cameron nodded slowly, her mouth dry. "Yeah. We've been talking. It's nothing serious."
Jasmine's smile twisted at the edges. "But you're still sleeping with her, right?"
Her tone was soft, but it burned.
Cameron winced. She hadn't thought of it like that—not since things with Jasmine had intensified. Rosalie was still there, still part of the background, steady and warm. But this—this thing with Jasmine—had eclipsed everything else.
"Jas," Cameron said carefully, "I told you. It's not like that with her. You're… different."
Jasmine's eyes sharpened. She set her drink down, maybe a little too hard.
"Different," she echoed. "I'm glad to hear that."
But the way she said it made Cameron's chest tighten. There was a kind of possessiveness in Jasmine's voice now—a flash of something sharper than jealousy. Like she needed to know she mattered more, not just in words, but in proof.
Before Cameron could say anything else, Jasmine stood up.
"You know what? I'm sick of this," she snapped. "I'm tired of being stuck in this… this purgatory with you. It's like you're halfway gone, and I'm just supposed to pretend it doesn't hurt."
Cameron's heart plummeted. "Jas, wait—"
But Jasmine was already walking away, heels clicking against the tile as she stormed out into the night.
Cameron followed without thinking. The air outside was cold and sharp, but her skin was burning.
"Jasmine!" she called, jogging to catch up. "Please—don't do this."
Jasmine stopped abruptly on the sidewalk, turning to face her with wild eyes. Her chest rose and fell like she couldn't catch her breath.
"I need you," she said, the words cracking open. "I can't… I can't do this alone. And I'm not going to sit around watching you with her."
Her voice was raw now. Unfiltered. All the calm veneer she usually carried was stripped away.
"I'm not going anywhere," Cameron said immediately. "You know that, right?"
But Jasmine wasn't listening. Not really.
She stepped closer, grabbing Cameron's wrist, her fingers tight and trembling. "We need to do something," she said. "Something real. Something to prove this is more than a game."
Before Cameron could respond, Jasmine's eyes lit up with a wild, reckless gleam.
"Let's take acid," she whispered, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. "You and me. No one else. Just us. It'll help. We'll feel everything. We'll know."
Cameron barely hesitated.
She was already nodding. Already saying "yes" before she could even question it.
Later that night, everything bled together.
The walls of Jasmine's apartment pulsed like a heartbeat. The lights swirled and melted into each other. Cameron could feel the rise and fall of her breath like ocean waves against her skin.
Jasmine was next to her—close enough to feel like they shared the same pulse. Her words came in whispers, like incantations.
"I think we should get matching tattoos," she said suddenly, her tone sharp with conviction. "To show we're connected. That you're mine and I'm yours."
Cameron turned her head, blinking slowly, the edges of her vision soft and bright.
"A tattoo?" she echoed.
Jasmine's fingers traced along Cameron's arm. "Something small. Something permanent. Just for us."
Cameron's heart pounded, her skin buzzing under Jasmine's touch. Her mouth was dry, but her voice came out sure.
"Yeah. Let's do it."
Jasmine smiled—but it wasn't her usual soft, sleepy smile. It was something else. Darker. Almost satisfied.
And for the first time, Cameron wondered if this wasn't just Jasmine needing her… but Jasmine needing control.
But that thought—like so many others—floated away in the haze of the high.
Because for now, they were tethered.
And Cameron had never felt more claimed.