It's close to ten at night by the time we talk. He calls and tells me Minge is at an all night cram session and asks if I want to come over. I tell him I'm tired and just want to sleep. He doesn't argue. He doesn't even sound disappointed.

"I'm sorry," Rose says. She sits on her bed and fakes a smile.

"For what?"

"For what's happening between you and Cameron. I know it seems like it, but I'm not really that heavy a sleeper. I hear everything, Luce."

My gaze drops to the floor. I don't respond. I don't know how to.

"He'll make it right."

I eye her now, wondering how she's so sure and I'm not. "What makes you say that?"

"Because he's Cameron. And you’re Lucy. You're team Luca. You guys are forever. If you two can't make it work, then we're all screwed."

***

For the first time in a long time, I'm smiling. Finals, at least for me, are over. I throw my arms in the air, celebrating. "Freeeeeedom," I mock shout.

"Okay settle down," Micky says. "Some of us aren't done yet." She pulls on my hand until I'm sitting on the floor with her, between two shelves of books. We're in the library where a lot of students are, studying their asses off. "Now be the bestest friend in the whole wide world and help me," she pleads, her eyes wide.

"Okay," I laugh. "Let's see what you got."

After three hours, she finally closes her books. "I'm done," she moans. "My brain can't take anymore."

"I don't know why you're so worried, you got this."

She starts to pack up and I do the same.

"So you and Cam are hanging around for the weekend for his work and then what? You go home for a couple weeks?"

At the mention of his name, any semblance of happiness fades. That was the plan. He couldn't get off work at the firm for the weekend so we were both going to hang around. It was only one weekend at the firm, and then he was free from there until next school year. He still needed to work at the store, but he was able to get his shifts covered for two weeks so we could go home and visit with our families, and then we'd have to come back. Jake and Micky were going back to Jake's for the rest of the summer and said we could stay there. The plan was perfect. Until it wasn't.

I do my best to fake a smile and nod, knowing that she'd want to talk about it if she knew something was up. I didn't want her to worry, and I didn't want to talk about it. She rushes to leave so she can catch Jake before he has an exam. I hang around and read for a bit, knowing that Rose won't be done for another hour. I don't want to talk about what's been going on with Cam, but I don't want to be alone either.

When I know it's time, I start to make my way to the exit.

-CAMERON-

Roxy called and asked if I needed help with tomorrow's final. I told her I'd need a second brain because my current one was useless. She laughed at that, and said to meet her in the library. I called Lucy before I left. I wanted her to know what I was doing. If she flat out said not to, I wouldn't have, but she didn't answer. And I sure as shit needed the help.

"Sometimes I watch you," Roxy whispers from next to me.

"That's not creepy."

She chuckles, the huskiness in her voice coming out full force. "No. I mean when you're sketching, or planning. It's like you're bored. Like you wish your fingers would do something more exciting than draw straight lines. Do you draw? For fun, I mean?"

I shrug, not knowing what else to do.

"I want to be an artist, Cam," she starts. "I wish that there were some form of job security in being an artist, but there isn't. So I design. I don't love it, but I do it. Why do you do it?"

I turn to her now, but she's already looking at me. "Lucy's the only one that's seen my work. She thinks I should show the world. She tries to get me to enter competitions, even if it's anonymously. She thinks I'm good, but I don't know if she's just saying it for the sake of saying it. I don't even know if she knows what good is."

"Show me."

"I don't have anything."

"Bullshit," she clips. "If you're anything like me, you do it whenever something inspires you. Don't be afraid." She draws a cross over her heart with her finger. "I'll be honest. If it's shit, I'll tell you. How else are you going to know?"

I push down my nerves. My palms are already sweaty from the thought of actually showing someone else.

"Come on," she encourages.

I reach down into my backpack and pull out a sheet of paper. I unfold it and place it face down on the table. "Show me," she says, bouncing in her seat.

I suck in a huge breath and forcefully blow it out.

And then I flip it.

She gasps.

I hold my breath.

And then...

"Cameron?"

Lucy.

My eyes lift.

My world ends.

-LUCY-

Sometimes I wonder what it was like for Mom—to know that every day things went from bad to worse—and she couldn't do anything about it. And then I wonder what it felt like for her when the fight was over and she took her last breath.

For years I wondered.

But right now, I think I know.

My eyes are fixed on the sketch as my tears cause it to blur with each passing second. It's Cameron's work. I know it is—because I live and breathe his art. When he's not around, I stare at the pages—for hours sometimes. Sketch after sketch, pictures of me, and of our life together.