As Ryan trudged up the stairs to Camille’s apartment, it became apparent that her life of leisure over the past month had made her soft. She was bone-tired after her shift at Daisy’s which had thankfully only been until midnight. The sex - kitten - who - aims - to - please facade she’d had to wear all night had been treading so thin she was worried she was going to break her promise to Paul and kill one of the customers. Her knuckles rapped on the door with the urgency one might expect when knocking on the doors of hell.
Camille pulled the door open and immediately turned away to go back to whatever project she had on the floor. The sound of a power tool had Ryan pausing in the doorway.
“What the hell are you doing?” Ryan asked.
“I can’t tell you yet” came the distracted reply.
“When can you tell me?”
“When it works” was the response.
Ryan decided to leave Camille to whatever she was doing and headed into the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for bed. The hot water poured down on her tired muscles and Ryan let herself be consumed by the blissful feeling. She stayed in until the water turned tepid. Once she dried off and got dressed, she opened the bathroom door to find a smiling Camille standing on the other side. “Were you . . . listening to me shower?” Ryan asked.
Camille’s eyebrows rose, but the smile stayed in place. “Do I seem like the sort of person who does things like that?”
“Well, you didn’t, but now . . .” Ryan let the sentence hang there as she gestured to Camille standing outside of the bathroom.
“That’s because I couldn’t wait to tell you that it works.”
“What works?” Ryan knew she was looking at Camille like she was a space invader, but her behavior was so un-Camille-like, Ryan didn’t know what was happening.
“This,” Camille said as she held up an object.
Ryan looked at the key Camille was holding before reaching out and taking it from her friend. Ryan inspected it. “Is this one of those Skeleton Keys that’s going to get me body-snatched?”
Camille let out a loud laugh. “No, but it is one that’ll let you into my apartment.”
“Are you serious?” Ryan felt an inordinate amount of excitement as she appraised the key again.
“Yup. It took me a few tries, but I finally got the hang of the Dremel.”
“What the hell is a Dremel?” Ryan asked as she clutched the key in her hand.
“It’s this little saw thing. It’s cool.”
“Where’d you get it?” Ryan gasped. “You didn’t buy it, did you? Because I’m pretty sure we could’ve bribed someone to make a key for cheaper than what that thing probably cost.”
Camille looked at her like she was crazy. “No, I didn’t buy one. I borrowed it from Lester.”
“The landlord?” When Camille nodded, Ryan continued, “You asked our landlord for a tool that would let you copy a key he’s forbidden you to copy?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much exactly how it went.”
“Aw, you broke the law for me. That’s so sweet,” Ryan said as she hugged Camille.
Camille laughed. “You do know that it’s not actually illegal to copy a key that says not to duplicate it, don’t you? But it keeps most places from doing it.”
“Nope. And I’m going to pretend I still don’t because knowing ruins the key’s sentimental value.”
“Whatever floats your boat, honey,” Camille said as she lightly patted Ryan on the back and pulled away. Camille walked back into the living room where debris from her do-it-yourself project still rested.
“I can’t believe you made a key in the living room,” Ryan said as she began helping Camille clean up.
Camille shrugged. “I was bored. And YouTube made it sound really simple. It’s not, in case you were curious.”
Ryan chuckled and tried not to let herself get swept up in the emotional riptide that threatened to pull her under. Because this was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for her. The only other person who’d done something like this for her was Ben, and she didn’t want to go down that mental rabbit hole tonight. She wanted to let herself enjoy having a friend who cared about her.
Camille’s phone dinged and she got up to check it. “You know a guy named Mike Tarino?” she asked after reading the message.
“Nope. Doesn’t ring any bells. Why?”
“Hm. Gabe said he was a friend of theirs so I wondered if you knew him.”
Ryan paused in her cleaning and looked over at Camille, who’d sunk down onto the couch. “Have you been texting with Gabe?”
“Yeah,” Camille said simply.
“Since when?”
“Since he wrote his name on a piece of toilet paper and slipped it in my purse when we were at Ben’s that time.”
Ryan couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s gross.”
Camille lifted one shoulder. “It’s not like he used it first or anything.”
“I hope not,” Ryan said as she laughed louder. “So, are you guys, like, hanging out or something?” she asked.
Snorting, Camille typed a response on her phone before saying, “No.”
“Is he trying to get you to hang out?” Ryan wheedled.
But all she got was a “No, he knows he has no chance with me” in response.
Ryan felt her brow crinkle. “Why doesn’t he have a chance? I mean, he’s nuts, but he seems like a good guy.”
Camille looked up over the top of her phone. “He’s not really my type.”
Ryan couldn’t really imagine Gabe not being anyone’s type—at least physically. He was no Ben, but he was still incredibly attractive. “What is your type?” Ryan asked. It felt weird; for as close as she and Camille had gotten, she knew nothing about Camille’s love life. She suddenly felt bad that her romantic situation had been such a time suck on their conversations that she hadn’t bothered to ask her friend about her own.
Camille lowered her phone. “Decidedly more . . . feminine,” she said.
Ryan felt her jaw drop. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Camille was biting her lip as if she were nervous, which let Ryan know how important her reaction was to Camille. She’d never seen Camille even remotely worried before.
“I’m sorry,” was what came out and Ryan immediately wanted to punch herself when she saw Camille’s face drop and then harden in a matter of seconds. “No, no, wait. I didn’t mean I’m sorry you’re a lesbian. I meant, sorry that you didn’t think you could tell me before now.”
Camille relaxed back into the couch. “It wasn’t that I didn’t think I could tell you. I just don’t talk about my dating life as a rule. Mostly because I don’t have one,” she added with a self-deprecating laugh.
“Tell me if you don’t want to talk about it, but can I ask why you don’t have one?”
Camille leaned her head against the couch and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before looking back at Ryan. “Does it make me an asshole if I say I don’t want to talk about it?”
“No,” Ryan replied immediately.
“Good,” Camille sighed. After another beat, she continued, “It’s not because I don’t trust you or anything. If I was going to talk about it, it would definitely be with you. I’d just . . . rather not.”
Ryan gave her a small smile. “It’s because you’re in love with me, isn’t it?”
Camille laughed raucously and threw a couch pillow at her. “No offense, but you’re not really my type either.”
Ryan titled her head. “That’s . . . kind of a hit to my ego.” They both shared another laugh before Ryan grew more serious. “I don’t want you to feel like you ever need to explain yourself to me. You’ve always been there for me, so I’ll return the favor—even if being there means keeping my mouth shut.”
Returning the smile, Camille let out a soft “Thanks.”
Ryan continued cleaning up and Camille went back to her phone. It was a little bizarre that she talked to Gabe—that they were friends. It gave Ryan an irrational urge to have Camille to ask him about Ben, but she knew she couldn’t do that. She was barely holding onto her sanity as it was. The last thing she needed was an update on how Ben had gone back to his normal life and was doing fine without her. But she couldn’t resist a small question. “So what’s up with that Mike guy?”
Camille looked up from her phone again. “He died. It sounded like they were all kind of close. Gabe’s really upset about it.”
Ryan felt her posture sag. “Oh no. That’s awful.”
“Yeah, I guess it was really sudden.”
Camille went back to texting Gabe, and Ryan found herself jealous of her for it. Not because Ryan wanted to text Gabe, but because Camille could be there for him, comfort him when he needed it. Despite all the things Ben had done for Ryan, Ryan knew she’d been there for him too. And she missed it—probably missed it most of all. Because while being there for someone didn’t cost anything, it was the purest way to show how much you cared. Despite what she tried to tell herself, Ryan still cared. And she was terrified to realize that she probably always would.