CRUSH (27 page)

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Authors: Lacey Weatherford

BOOK: CRUSH
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I shrugged. “I only know of him smoking some
pot before.”

The officer gestured for me to follow him.
“Let’s step to the side and let these guys do their job. The ambulance will be
here shortly.”

“His name is Russ Weston,” I said to the
fireman next to me. “He turned eighteen on the seventh of this month.”

“Thanks,” he said, never pausing. “Don’t worry,
we’ll give him the best care possible.”

 

 
Chapter
Twenty-Nine

Cami-

 

I laid my head against the table in the break
room. I was so tired I truly believed I could fall asleep right here. I didn’t
know how many more questions Hunter and I could answer.

We’d been questioned by the
police and theater management
,
explaining every detail of our night and what we were doing with Russ. We’d
even had lights shined in our eyes as our pupils were checked to see if it
appeared we were on anything. I felt like a filthy criminal, and I was
completely innocent of any wrongdoing.

Hunter had been brutally honest too, telling
everyone exactly what we’d been doing out back. I wasn’t sure if either of us
had a job anymore.

Clay, Mandy, and Shane had been released to go
home after the cops questioned them. Hunter and I were the lucky ones to stay
behind, since we were the people “involved.” The only plus side was the others
had finished doing our jobs for us, so we didn’t have to stay and clean.

“Can we go now?” Hunter asked, his irritation
at being detained evident. “I’d like to get over to the hospital to check on my
friend.”

“Yes, you may leave. We’ll let you know if we
need anything else. Thanks for your help.” The officer closed his notebook.

“Can I call you later about our jobs?” He
glanced between Jon and Jen.

“You still have your jobs. You were technically
off the clock when you were outside,” Jen said. “Go home and get some rest. We
can discuss it later if needed.”

Jon didn’t say anything, but there was a
worried frown on his face and his brow was wrinkled together.

“Thank you,” Hunter replied before turning to
me. “Come on, Cami. Let’s go.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. I
followed after him without speaking as he made his way down the hall toward the
back exit. My nerves were shot. I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to
hold it together.

When we reached the car, Hunter opened the
passenger side door, and I slipped inside without a word of thanks. He didn’t
seem to notice, closing the door and going to his side and getting in.

“You okay?” he asked gently, placing his hand
on my knee.

I saw the concern in his eyes. That was the
last straw. I started bawling, unable to keep the sobs back as I buried my face
in my hands.

“He looked exactly like Jordan did.”

Hunter leaned over, holding me against his
shoulder. “I’m so sorry, honey . . . so sorry you had to see
that again.”

“Do you think it was drugs?” I asked, slightly
hiccupping with my tears.

“I hope not, but it looks like it.” He kissed
the top of my head.

“You have to stop, Hunter! You can’t ever use
again. I know I said I’d try to understand, but I can’t. Don’t you see? It
could’ve been you lying there! That would’ve killed me! Killed me! Please,
please
, stop before you get hurt.” I
knew I was hysterical, but I had to make him realize somehow.

“I will, Cami. I’ll do anything to make you
feel better—anything to stop you from crying. You’re breaking my heart.”
He squeezed me tighter.

“Don’t say it to appease me, Hunter. I mean it.
No more drugs or . . . or . . . we are through. I
can’t handle knowing you’re treating your life so carelessly. That could be
you . . . it could be you.” I couldn’t stop the tears; they were
flowing faster than I could wipe them away. I’d never been so scared for
someone before. I loved him—but I was angry—with him, with Russ,
with Jordan, all of them. Couldn’t they understand how they were hurting the
people who loved them?

He lifted my chin, and I looked him straight in
the eye,
wanting
him to see all the
hurt there.

“I’m serious,” he said, never breaking his gaze
away. “You have my word. I won’t use again. You win.”

“Why? Why now? Why not when I asked you
earlier?” I knew I was pushing, but I didn’t care. I wanted some answers. He’d
always been so stubborn before.

“That was . . .
a . . . scary thing,” he replied slowly, carefully, as if he
were deliberately choosing his words. “But I also don’t like seeing you this
way, either. I know it brings up painful memories for you.”

I pulled away and glanced through the window,
trying to calm myself down. “I still have nightmares about that night, you
know . . . with Jordan. Sometimes I’m afraid to fall asleep.”

“I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, Cami—for
everything.”

I wiped my eyes as silence hung in the car
between us. “Let’s go check on Russ,” I said.

“Are you sure you’re up for it? I’m more than
happy to drop you by your house on the way there.” He ran his hand down my arm,
and squeezed my hand.

“No. He’s your friend. I want to be with you
when you go.”

He stared as if he were measuring my capability
of handling it.

“Really. I want to go—if you want me
there.”

“I always want you with me. You should know
that by now.” He smiled and lifted his hand to wipe one of my tears away.

I gave a choked laugh. “I love you.”

He smiled softly, his eyes roaming over my
face. “I love hearing you say that. I love you too.”

 

The emergency room waiting area was blessedly
empty. We were told Russ’s parents had arrived shortly after he did and were
with him while he was being worked on. A nurse had come and said only one of us
could go back. I told Hunter to go, I’d wait here for him. He’d been gone for a
while now, giving my mind plenty of time to wander freely, covering many topics
from drugs, to Clay, back to Hunter, our relationship, and even death.

Death. It was one thing I’d never deluded
myself over. I wasn’t like those teens
who
thought
they were invincible. I’d had enough close friends and relatives die to know
life was both fleeting and precious—not to be wasted. I was determined to
live mine the best I knew how, and I’d made the personal choice to avoid
certain things—one was
drugs
and drinking
alcohol, the other was sex.

A friend of mine was killed in a drunk driving
accident with her father a few years ago, and an uncle of mine—who had
been very sexually active in his youth—was diagnosed with AIDS. I knew my
decisions were a little fear based, but my opinion was better safe than sorry.
I didn’t want those things to happen to me.

I’d done well holding up to my moral values
until recently. I met Hunter and suddenly realized why kids sometimes did the
things they did. He put off this natural charismatic energy, which drew me to him
like a moth to a flame. I couldn’t quite describe it . . . he
had all this swagger and confidence, but it was more than that. I simply looked
at him and knew he was my weakness, my temptation. I’d heard the term, ‘like
sex-on-a-stick’, and thought it described him perfectly—he was carnal,
delicious, something I craved. I’d never felt that way about anybody before. It
was both thrilling and terrifying because I knew, under the right
circumstances, I’d be willing to cross the line I’d so carefully drawn around
myself.

This brought up all my old fears. I knew enough
about Hunter’s past to know he’d been with other girls . . . but
what did that mean to me? Was it safe for me to be with him? Was I really ready
for it or only being driven by hormones?

I pushed a breath out the side of my mouth,
blowing some of my wayward curls from my eyes. None of this really mattered,
because—for whatever reason—he didn’t seem to be ready to cross
that line with me. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. He
acted
like he wanted to, but he always
put the brakes on, and his weird little speech earlier made it sound like he
didn’t think he’d be the one I would do it with. Why not?

I was so confused.

The doors to the emergency room swung open and
Hunter came out. I stood to greet him, noting the solemn expression on his
face. He embraced me, burying his face in my hair.

“How is he?” I asked as I slid my arms around
him.

He didn’t answer for a moment. “He’s bad.
They’re flying him to a larger facility in Albuquerque. He’s in a coma, and
things don’t look good.”

“Did they figure out what happened?”

“They did a drug screen. It showed he had
amphetamines in his system.”

“So it was a meth overdose?” I felt sick.

“That’s what it’s looking like.” He squeezed me
tighter.

“Why would he lie to you about it? Wouldn’t he
want you to know so you could help him?”

Hunter released me and walked away, running a
hand through his hair. “That’s the weird part. He was with us the whole time. I
never saw him take anything. Did you?”

I shook my head. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know. I guess . . .
things don’t seem to add up. Did you call your parents?”

“Yeah. I told them I’d be home as soon as we
were done.”

“Well, I better get you there. Come on, let’s
go.” He held out his hand, and I slipped mine into it.

“I’m really sorry about Russ.”

“Me too, Cami.” He sighed heavily. “Me too.”

 

 
Chapter
Thirty

Hunter-

 

Everything had taken on a melancholy air since
Russ’s accident. Cami had been like a ghost beside me this last week, following
me everywhere as if she were afraid to let me out of her sight. She didn’t talk
much; she was just there, and I found her presence comforting, though it made
it difficult for me to find time to catch up with Derek and talk to him about
our deal. We’d both agreed to back off the drug scene for a bit until things
cooled down again.

Unfortunately, her constant attendance also
meant Clay was around a lot. He’d wisely kept his mouth shut—at least
when it came to talking to me—and didn’t attempt to revisit the crass
remarks he’d spoken in the theater. We’d never had a chance to talk about my
accusations either. I was sure he was constantly staying with us in hopes it
would prevent me from relaying the information to Cami. We were at a
stalemate—he and I—neither would allow the other to be alone with
her.

I hated having him around because I felt like
it hindered Cami and me from talking about things that were going on between
us. At the same time, it was kind of a relief, because I knew she had questions
I couldn’t answer. I longed to tell her everything and get it out into the open
so we could deal with it, one way or another. The tension in the air seemed to
thicken around us daily, and I was certain things would come to a head soon. It
was almost time for me to step up my game.

Today was the day I’d been dreading. Tonight
was the Masquerade dance and knowing Cami was going to spend the whole evening
wrapped in Clay’s arms did little to calm my nerves. I felt a restless energy
coursing through me whenever I thought about it. I didn’t like Clay, and I
definitely didn’t trust him. Out of respect for Cami and her feelings towards
him, I was doing my best to stay out of the way and let them do their thing
together.

I was especially missing Russ at the moment. We
were all seated in the cafeteria, and I had to listen to Clay and Cami
go
on about their costumes and last minute preparations.
Russ would’ve distracted me with conversation of his own so I didn’t have to
hear all this. I suppose I could’ve played the possessive boyfriend card and
insisted Cami go to the dance with me, but I wasn’t the sort of person who
would force her to do anything. I knew Cami was stressing, so I thought
attending the dance would be good—but there was no way I’d leave Clay
alone with her. I could barely stomach seeing the two of them together.

As far as I was concerned, they wouldn’t be
best friends much longer. I was planning on telling Cami about him when it was
right, and hopefully that opportunity would present itself soon. This was her
tradition with her friend, and I didn’t want to intrude—intrude meaning I
wouldn’t do anything to stop them from going together. I sure as heck would be
at the dance, so I could keep an eye on her.

My cell phone started vibrating in my pocket. I
pulled it out and glance at the number, wondering who was calling me when I
didn’t recognize it.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Hi. Is this Hunter?” a female voice spoke on
the other end.

“Yes it is.”

“Hi. This is Cheryl Weston, Russ’s mom.”

“How are you? Are things okay?” I asked,
feeling nervous. I’d given her my number so she could call me if there was any
change in Russ’s condition.

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