Page 7 of The Drop

I groan in frustration; of all the people Cami had got to pick me up, it had to be the hottest guy I had ever seen. He was tall. Taller than Josh by a few inches, at least six-three? And thenthere was his muscular physique. He had the build of an athlete for sure.

The sandy colour of his short hair matched the faint scruff on his face, and oh my God, the smile he gave when he waved goodbye had me almost swooning.

I mean, I’ve just ended what I thought was my forever relationship; am I allowed to be thinking these things so soon? That has got to be a sign it wasn’t meant to be, right? Like, I should be sobbing on the floor right now, and all I am doing is imagining that hot guy’s hands on my waist.

Nope, stop. Not the time.

The water runs clear, and I am hoping all the mud and sticks are gone. I pull my damp, dirt-stained dress off, letting the wet fabric slap onto the other side of the shower, and finish washing my hair and body. I hop out and wrap myself up in the extra fluffy towel I know Cami keeps only for herself, but has selflessly given it to me in my time of need.

I look in the semi-fogged-up mirror; my dark brown hair is now clean of mud, hanging down my back in wet waves. My skin has a nice tan to it from spending the summer by Josh’s pool. I don’t think I’m bad-looking.

Certainly not ugly enough to pay someone to date me. I frown at my reflection, trying to search for my next step.

Life has chucked me the mother of all curveballs; I am not sure how I’m supposed to process this. Do I cry? Do I slash his tires? Do I forgive him? I shake my head in the mirror; I do not want to forgive him. If he doesn’t want me for who I am, and has to be paid to stay? No. No, thank you.

I’m better than that.

I let out a deep sigh and left the bathroom to go back to Cami’s bedroom. I find leggings and a comfy sweatshirt sitting on the bed and smile a little at the small gesture from Cami.

Cami and I had been friends since we were ten. We had met when I joined a figure skating class her dad was running at his ice rink.

I had never skated before, and my mom had enrolled me in an intermediate class, assuming I would “pick it right up.” I spent more time on my butt than gracefully floating around the ice, as she had imagined not that she saw as my dad was the one who drove me there and back. Cami had taken pity on me and worked with me to be stable enough to do laps without injury.Safe to say, skating never stuck, but my friendship with Cami did.

Much to my mother’s annoyance. She, of course, thought the Logans were not up to our standard, but my dad thought they were great.

Mr Logan stepped up when my dad passed, driving me back to their house after the hospital, where I stayed for a week.

He always showed up to everything as a pseudo-father figure. Mrs Logan would always include me in family dinners and events, and they both showed up for my high school graduation to cheer me on, and for that, I am always grateful.

My family was small as it was before Dad died, both sets of grandparents had died when I was young, and aunts and uncles weren’t heavily involved in our lives.

Cami and I hadn't seen a lot of each other this year, and I was worried we were drifting apart. Our friendship consisted of quick updates and memes we thought the other would find funny. I had missed her while I was away at college and hoped that with me moving back, we would be closer again; it looked like I was getting my wish. Nothing screams louder than saving me from an unwarranted marriage proposal.

After putting the clothes on and borrowing Cami’s hairbrush, I walk down the hallway into the living room area. I love Cami’s apartment its open-plan, the front door leads into the living room with its two beige sofas, comfy pillows and blankets, the kitchen at the furthest end has a breakfast bar and stools with a window, making the room even lighter, and then the hallway leading to the bedrooms in the middle of all of it.

“Thanks for the clothes.” I sigh, brushing the knots out of my hair. I frown at Cami as she paces the living room. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” She jumps. “Yep.” She smiles and pushes a bottle of wine into my hands, and I let out a laugh.

“Really?” I laugh at the bottle, thinking she is joking, but I see her serious expression. “Okay, sure.” I take a deep swig before sighing; it's exactly what I need.

“Great, now that’s out of the way. Josh is on his way over.”

She speaks so fast I almost don’t hear the last bit and choke on the wine. “What do you mean?” I say, coughing and panicking, my eyes going wide. No, I was not supposed to see or speak to him tonight. I almost texted him on the way over, butthen I thought about it, and he didn’t deserve it, so I planned to just never speak to him until I had to.

Not my most solid plan, but it was the one I was currently going with, and he was already messing it up. “Cami? What do you mean?” I say, putting the wine on the coffee table and jumping up and down and shaking my hands out. The silence has been too long. “No, I do not want to see him right now.”

“I know, I know, I’m already on it,” she says, shushing me while texting on her phone. “I messaged the guys as soon as he said he was coming; they are going to stop him from coming up.”

“The guys?” I stare at her like she has grown two heads. “What, guys?”

This was Cami’s third year at Huntington U, and I know she had made some friends, but I didn’t know she had a specific set of guy friends. The mention of guys had me intrigued, while still terrifying me that I might have to face Josh.

“The guy’s next door,” she says, looking out the window. “I’ve told you about them; they play for the hockey team.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about. Cami moved here last year, and I had only visited once when Josh went on a guy’strip, but I didn’t encounter any guys who would pass for hockey players.

“Grant picked us up tonight.” She waves her hand dismissively at me while texting.

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