Page 21 of In Her Arms

“I’m sorry,” Cameron muttered, unable to look Goldie in the eye. “I just…I can’t.”

With that, she walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her. The noise of the club hit her full force as she stumbled back into the crowded hallway. She could barely think straight. She needed to get out of there—away from the crew, the stars, the fans, and most of all, away from Goldie. Anxiety, pressure, panic. All taking over her body one sensation after the other.

The bright lights of the club seemed too harsh now. Cameron pushed her way toward the fire exit, ignoring the familiar faces that were trying to grab her attention along the way. All she could focus on was the exit, the neon sign above the door glowing like a beacon in the distance. She needed air. She needed space. She needed out.

Finally, The Orchid was behind her, and she found herself in the dark parking lot, cool air hitting her skin. It felt like an electric shock. The chaos of Goldie and everything around that woman melted away and became quickly replaced by the hum of the city. For a moment, she just stood there, shivering, trying to steady herself.

What just happened?

Goldie had feelings for her—real, romantic feelings. And she had run from that?

She trotted down to the street below, down a urine-soaked staircase littered with trash.

As she stood on the curb, waiting for a cab to show up. She needed thinking space. She had never been good at facing her real feelings.

A cab pulled up, and Cameron yanked open the door, sliding inside and giving the driver her address. She slumped back against the seat, tears beginning to form and her head poundingfrom the stress of the situation, but just as the car began to pull away, she heard a muffled voice calling her name.

“Cam! Wait up!”

She turned to see Goldie running after her, her face frantic, eyes wide as she tottered down the sidewalk in four-inch heels. The flash of cameras went off as Goldie hurried toward the cab, calling Cameron’s name again, her voice rising above the noise.

Where the hell did the paparazzi come from?

Cameron felt so sorry at the sight of Goldie, but then fear gripped her again and she froze and leaned back in her seat. She couldn’t face this. Not now, not like this. She muttered an apology under her breath and told the driver to go.

The cab pulled away from the curb, and Cameron watched Goldie’s figure get smaller and smaller as she turned and looked through the back windshield, her heart sinking deeper with each passing second. Goldie was standing there in the middle of the street, surrounded by photographers who’d come out of nowhere. All Cameron could see was the hurt and confusion written across her face.

A part of her wanted to go back and explain, to tell Goldie that she felt the same way but was just too scared to admit it. She just couldn’t face it. Before she knew it, the cab had rounded the corner, and that was the end of that.

The drive back to her apartment went by in a blur, the city lights flashing past in a rainbow of color. Cameron’s mind was somewhere else entirely. She replayed Goldie’s confession over and over again in her head—the kiss, the way Goldie had taken her hand.

Why did I run?

Her fear of vulnerability, of getting hurt, had taken over. But now, it felt like everything was slipping through her fingers.

By the time the cab pulled up outside her building, Cameron’s eyes felt heavy and a pang of regret weighed on her heart. She paid the driver and stepped out into the night.

Had she ever really felt this way about anyone before? No was the long and short of it. Not with such depth, not with such rawness. And that was what scared her the most. Because falling for Goldie meant opening herself up to the possibility of getting hurt, and Cameron wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. She never had been, so why would it have changed?

With a heavy sigh, Cameron unlocked her door and stepped inside. Her apartment felt lonely and quiet. She leaned against the door for a moment before making her way to the couch and collapsing onto the cushions.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out, half-expecting it to be a message from Goldie. But it wasn’t. It was a notification from social media, her mentions lighting up with tags and comments. Her stomach twisted as she realized what it was: photos of Goldie outside the club standing on the street.

The paparazzi had caught it all. There was her name alongside Goldie’s. All in black and white.

Fuck.

Cameron groaned, tossing her phone onto the coffee table and burying her face in her hands. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I’ll make things right.

12

GOLDIE

Goldie sat on the balcony of her luxurious hotel suite and watched as what was left of the sunset faded into the velvety dusk. She tightly gripped a tumbler of whiskey, the strong amber liquid swirling as she stared out. The cool air brushed against her. It felt like a relief after the sweltering heat of the day. She wore a Japanese silk robe, but it offered little comfort. She was on edge, and no amount of luxury fabric or strong liquor could do anything about it.

A whole week had passed since that night at The Orchid. The memory of Cameron running away and disappearing into the night still kept her up at night. She felt every emotion: pain, empathy, sadness, confusion, embarrassment. That moment—the abruptness of it—had felt like a punch straight to the gut. She couldn’t understand what she’d done to deserve it. Goldie had never thought of herself as someone who could be left so utterly vulnerable, yet here she was drinking, not sleeping, fretting.

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