"He looked up at me and said..." He leans forward so his lips are to my ear and whispers, "Practicing to be a serial killer. Join forces, Cameron."

I push him away, my body shaking with laughter. "He did not."

His eyes are wide as he shakes his head. "Swear it, Luce. This shit's too good to make up."

-CAMERON-

"Oh my God," Roxy whines, flopping into the seat next to me. "I just handed in Masterson's project. Talk about cutting it fine. Not like we've had a few weeks to work on it," she scoffs.

"The roof design?"

"No," she laughs, "the entire design."

I tense. "What?"

"Yeah," she says, now looking worried. "The entire design's due tomorrow."

Whatever look just took over my face has her eyes widening. "Cameron?"

"The entire design is due tomorrow? When the fuck did this happen?"

"Um. Just over a month ago," she says, like I'm a dumbass for not knowing.

"Fuck."

"You haven't finished?"

"Roxy, I haven't even fucking started. I didn't even know it was due. Was I in class?"

She eyes the ceiling, like she's deep in thought. "Dude..." she says, finally looking back at me. "I think it was that time when your friend got attacked and you missed a couple classes."

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" I'm on my feet now, my heart thumping so loud in my ears I can barely see straight. "How much will it affect my grade if I don't hand it in?" I'm panicking, trying to keep down the bile that's risen in my throat.

She grimaces. "Thirty percent."

"Fuck." I get up and start packing my shit. "What time?"

"What?"

I want to yell at her for being stupid and not understanding. Instead, I try to take a calming breath. "What time is it due?"

"Oh. Nine."

I run my hand through my hair and pull. Hard. Closing my eyes, I try to work out if it's even physically possible for me to get it done, or whether to just take the grade and hope it doesn't affect my funding.

"Cam, are you working tonight?"

I shake my head, feeling the adrenaline course through me.

"I have a studio set up in my shed out back. If you have all your sketches, I can help. I don't know that I'd be very good. I'm an artist, not an architect, remember?"

"Please," I beg, because I have no other fucking choice.

*

I text Lucy when we get in my car. I tell her that I have a last minute study group on a project I didn't know existed. I tell that it'll be a late night, and that I'll call her when I'm done. And then I tell her that I love her.

I fought a war in my head about whether to mention that Roxy was my study partner. I chose not to because I didn't want her to worry when she has absolutely no reason to.

After five minutes, my phone starts blowing up. Not just her, but Jake and Dylan, too. I switch it off, because if I don't I won't be able to focus. And I need to fucking focus.

We walk through her house to get to the yard. It reminds me of Mom's house. The one I grew up in. Last year, she finally bit the bullet and sold it. Now she lives with Mark—and they've never been happier.

Roxy's shed is a converted art studio with homemade light boxes and drafting tables. Kind of like the ones Tom made me, only nowhere near as good. She has her art framed and hanging off the walls. She's good, really fucking good, but I don't have time to take them in.

She finishes switching the lights on and turns to me. "I'll call for pizza and then we'll get started, okay?"

I nod as I pull out my folio and spread my sketches on the desk. "Where the fuck do I even start?" I mumble to myself.

I feel the warmth of her hand on my back. "It's okay, C-Money. We'll get it done. Even if it takes us all night."

"What about you?" I ask, stepping out of her reach.

She shrugs. "I have a final in the afternoon. I've studied my ass off, I'm good."

Sighing, I say, "You're saving my ass, Rox. Thank you."

She shrugs again. "I'm sure you'll find a way to pay me back."

She winks.

I ignore it.

*

My eyes are so fucking heavy and my body is so fatigued, that I can't even draw a straight line using a ruler.

She sets a cup of coffee next to me. "You're almost done, Champ. You got this."

I stand up and stretch my legs and then my arms, yawning loudly as I do.

She sips her coffee and looks over my work. "Hey, your rendering's gotten a lot better."

"Thanks." I drink my coffee quickly and get back to work.

Half an hour later, I'm done.

She fake-claps and cheers, not wanting to be loud. I have no idea how long we've been in here, working almost non-stop.

"Thank you so much," I tell her.

She punches my arm. "No problem."

We walk through her house and out to my car.

Or what should be my car.

Only it has no wheels.

She snorts.

I glare at her.

"Sorry." She grimaces.

"Who the fuck would jack my wheels?"

"I'm sorry," she says sympathetically. "I probably should have warned you about parking a Delorean in my neighborhood."

I drop my bags, my folio, and myself, onto the sidewalk. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I lift my knees and rest my arms on them.

"I'd give you a ride," she says, sitting down next to me. "But my car's still not fixed."

I turn on my phone. Ten missed calls from Lucy, Jake and Dylan. Then I curse when I see the time. "It's three?"

"Yup."

"Oh my God." I go through my phone contacts, deciding who the fuck to call. I try Jake first, he doesn't answer. I try Dylan, but his phone's off. And then I do what I should've done first, but was too afraid to do. I call Lucy.

She answers on the first ring. "Hey," her voice is scratchy from sleep. "Did you just finish your study group?"

"Yeah," I sigh, shaking my head and trying to avoid the inevitable.

"We were trying to call you."

"I know. I switched my phone off so I could focus."

"Oh okay. Well, I need to tell you something, are you coming by now? I'll unlock the door."

"Fuck," I accidentally say out loud.

"Cameron?"

And for some reason Roxy thinks it's a great time to pipe up. "Just tell her, C-Money."

I narrow my eyes and shake my head at her.

Lucy gasps. "Do I need to ask who that is?" she whispers.

"Luce, the fucking wheels on my car got jacked, and I'm stranded. I wouldn't ask if I didn't need your help."

Silence.

Finally, she speaks, "Why doesn't someone else in your study group give you a ride?"

I blow out a long, drawn out breath. "Because, Luce, there was no one else."

She hangs up.

I put my phone away.

"You want me to make you a bed?" Roxy asks.

"No, she's coming."

"How do you know?"