Jasmine had rented out a space in Cameron's mind the moment she turned around. And she was not a temporary tenant.
Her beauty was the kind that made Cameron's stomach twist uncomfortably, like she wasn't sure if she wanted to admire her from afar or find a way to possess her entirely. Everything about Jasmine felt unreal—her brunette waves, kissed with blonde at the front, framing her face in an effortlessly styled way. Her hazel eyes held a softness Cameron wasn't used to, as if they saw her for more than what she pretended to be. That unnerved her.
The first few days of training felt surreal, like watching a dream unfold in slow motion. Cameron was supposed to be the one guiding Jasmine, yet she found herself entranced by every small habit, every glance, every casual gesture. Jasmine wasn't just beautiful. She was magnetic. She carried herself with a gentle confidence, warm but assured, making even the most mundane conversation feel personal. Her voice was soft, but it never wavered, as if she had a deep-rooted certainty in herself that Cameron could only dream of having. And that laugh—Cameron had never fixated on a sound so intensely before. It was light, like the wind chimes outside her grandmother's house, but with something richer beneath it, something only Jasmine could possess.
If Jasmine had a terrible personality, Cameron thought, it wouldn't matter. She was already spellbound.
Training was simple, mostly consisting of Cameron showing her the ropes while slipping in easy banter. Jasmine, ever the attentive one, absorbed the information quickly, making Cameron's job laughably easy. That meant more opportunities to study her, to take in the way she tucked a loose hair behind her ear when she was concentrating, or how she bit her lip lightly when she was deep in thought. Cameron was sure she had never been this stupidly enamored with anyone before. She had crushes. She had flings. But this? This felt almost dangerous.
Jasmine, of course, remained blissfully unaware. To her, Cameron was just another coworker, an easygoing trainer with a teasing edge, someone interesting enough to chat with but nothing more. That alone should have been a reality check, but it only made Cameron want to be noticed even more.
When Jasmine casually mentioned bringing in a plant for her soon-to-be desk, Cameron suddenly became fascinated with them. What kind of plant? How often did she take care of them? Did she have a whole collection at home? When Jasmine arrived the next day with a small, leafy thing in a ceramic pot, Cameron found herself searching it up on her phone, trying to memorize everything about it. If Jasmine liked it, she wanted to like it too.
It didn't stop there.
Cameron was careful not to appear overeager, keeping up her usual laid-back demeanor, but inside she was clinging to every word, every interaction. The casual way Jasmine touched her arm when laughing at a joke, the way her nose scrunched when something annoyed her—it was intoxicating. She wanted more, needed more, but she played it cool. It was exhausting, pretending to be nonchalant when every fiber of her being was screaming for attention, for acknowledgment beyond a work friendship.
Her attempts to appear effortlessly desirable reached an all-time low when she picked up smoking on their breaks, something she had only ever done when drunk. She thought it might make her seem mysterious, a little reckless—things she wasn't, but wanted to be if it meant standing out in Jasmine's mind. Did it work? She had no idea. But when Jasmine pulled out a cigarette of her own, smirking slightly as she lit it, Cameron felt her stomach do something humiliatingly dramatic.
"Training me is already making you pick up bad habits?" Jasmine teased, blowing out a stream of smoke.
Cameron exhaled slowly, forcing herself to smirk back. "Something like that."
If only she knew.
At work, Cameron was barely holding it together. At home, it was even worse. She found herself spiraling in ways she didn't even recognize. Lying awake at night, thinking about Jasmine's voice, the way she smelled—everything she had noticed when she first laid eyes on her. Wondering what it would be like if Jasmine saw her the way she saw Jasmine. If she reached out first. If she said something, anything, that made Cameron feel less pathetic.
But Jasmine wasn't aware of her effect. She wasn't playing the same game. And that made it all the more maddening.