Cameron had always found solace in routine. It kept her grounded, even if that meant numbing herself with meaningless encounters and the same, dull cycle she had grown accustomed to. But ever since Jasmine entered her life, that structure had begun to fracture.
She tried to pretend that nothing had changed, calling up the same women she always had.
Their names blurred together, their faces indistinct. It should have been a comfort, slipping into the familiar rhythm of seduction and release, but it wasn't. Instead, she found herself distracted, lost in thought even as they touched her. The moment their hands roamed over her skin, her mind betrayed her. It was Jasmine's hands she imagined. Jasmine's breath against her ear. Jasmine's lips trailing down her neck.
Each time, reality snapped her back. The wrong scent, the wrong voice, the wrong everything. Frustration built inside her, seeping into every interaction until she could barely stand it anymore. One night, after yet another failed attempt at feeling something—anything—she stared at the ceiling and realized she couldn't do it anymore.
She stopped answering texts. Stopped making plans. Stopped pretending these women were anything more than placeholders for someone who didn't belong to her. Instead, she channeled everything into training Jasmine and, more importantly, finding a way to keep her close.
The job interview came and went in a blur. Cameron knew she did well—she always did. Her charm and quick wit had never failed her before, and this was no exception. The job offer landed in her inbox almost immediately, a sign of what should have been progress. But it didn't feel like progress. It felt like a countdown to something she wasn't ready to face.
She told herself that the dread in her stomach was just anxiety about change. A new job, a new environment, a new chapter. That was supposed to be a good thing. But deep down, she knew what it really was—Jasmine. The realization that her time with her was slipping away, that soon their interactions would be reduced to passing conversations, if even that.
Desperation clawed at her, but she played it cool. She always did. When she sought out Cheyenne, she kept her questions casual, like she was simply indulging in harmless curiosity. "So, what's Jasmine's deal?" she asked one afternoon, leaning against the break room counter with feigned disinterest.
Cheyenne gave her a knowing smirk, but her answers were maddeningly unhelpful. "She's just a sweetheart, you know? Super nice. Always has something wise to say, but not in an annoying way. She's kinda mysterious, though. I don't even know much about her personal life."
Mysterious. That only made Cameron want to know more.
She tried a different approach. "She ever go out? Like, does she drink?"
Cheyenne tilted her head, considering. "Not really. I mean, she'll have a drink if we go out as a group, but she's not, like, a party girl or anything."
That was disappointing. It meant bumping into her at a bar wasn't going to happen by chance. She would have to be intentional.
With only a few days left, Cameron found herself scrambling. She lingered after work, extending conversations, making excuses to be near her. Every moment felt fleeting, slipping through her fingers before she could grasp onto them. Her infatuation was not a slow burn; it was consuming her.
Jasmine was everywhere. In the way Cameron's heart picked up when she laughed. In the way her scent lingered in the air when she walked past. In the way her voice settled into Cameron's chest and refused to leave.
She found herself memorizing the way Jasmine sat—cross-legged, ankles tucked, a hand always fidgeting with one of her many silver rings. The way she tilted her head when thinking, the way she said "hm" when considering a new idea. The way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled.
Sometimes, Cameron would catch herself staring too long and quickly look away, pretending to focus on her screen, pretending to care about something else. But her attention always circled back. It always found Jasmine.
In bed at night, Cameron turned over these details like sacred artifacts. They didn't soothe her, but they were all she had. She built fantasies from them, layered meanings where there were none, imagined what it would feel like if Jasmine stayed longer, if Jasmine chose her, if this wasn't just a two-week footnote in a larger, indifferent timeline.
When the office buzzed with end-of-week chatter, Cameron was already bracing herself for goodbye. She knew it would come too fast. She wasn't ready for it. She didn't know how to let this go.
She had let a lot of women go, had tossed them aside before they could even ask for more. But this—this was different.
And it terrified her.