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Taking a seat beside me, he nodded in my direction. “Hey, bud, you're missing the game,” he informed me as he stole a chip from my bowl. I began to second guess that mental comment I said about him not looking like a thief.

I shrugged nonchalantly. “I was having too much fun with Mila, here,” I replied, eyeing the maid and wiggling my eyebrows.

Armando swiveled around to face Mila's direction, a large smile spreading across his face. “Oh, hey, Mila,” he said, and greeted her with a wave.

She smiled warmly at him, returning his friendly wave. “Hello, Armando.”I stared at the two of them, confusion in my eyes. “How do you two know each other?” I asked suspiciously.

But they didn't answer me. They just stared at each other and kept glancing at me, silently conversing with each other. I knew their silent convo was obviously about me.

“
J
e vÅ¡echno v poøádku tady?”
Armando asked, speaking in a weird language to Mila. His gaze shot from me to her.

She shrugged her shoulders in response, glancing quickly at me and then back at Armando as she said
, “Djeèak je glupo,
” in that same language as well.

Armando laughed, “Is he really?”

Before Mila could respond, I cleared my throat loudly. “Okay, what is going on with you two?” I asked, glaring at them with confusion in my eyes. “First of all, how do you two know each other? And, secondly, why are you two speaking in that weird language? And, thirdly, if you're talking about
me
, I'd rather you not be so obvious about it!” I ended with an annoyed huff, my eyes holding their startled gazes.

After a brief lapse of silence, Armando shrugged his shoulders, this time with nonchalance. “We go way back,” Armando said, motioning to Mila. “And for your second question, I just thought it'd be nicer if I spoke with Mila in her native language, Croatian.” He paused to grab up another chip and popped it into his mouth. “And for your third question, I just asked if everything was okay and Mila said you're stupid,” he said smoothly.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Screw you, Mila,” I spat. She just snorted. I turned away, done with this conversation. Frankly, I was used to Armando's weird behavior, and I didn't really give a crap about Mila, so… there.

“Alright,” I said, clapping my hands together and standing up. “Let's go back to the game,” I said to Armando as I took the bowl and headed out of the kitchen.

But before the door swung closed, I heard Armando saying something to Mila. “Does his father know about him?” he asked quietly.

“No, he does not,” she responded.

I heard Armando sigh. “Well, I'm going to tell him,” he said, and I heard his footsteps heading toward the door.

When he opened the kitchen door to join me in the hallway, I stared at him questioningly. “Tell who what?” I asked. They better have not been talking about me.

But Armando just shrugged — he was always shrugging. “It's nothing,” was his succinct reply, and, without any other words, he grabbed my bowl out of my hands and headed back to the living room.

I had no choice but to follow.

Olive

Imagine waking up, dumped onto your lawn in rumpled clothes and missing a shoe. Imagine not knowing where you were for a good five minutes, still shaking about the events that'd just happened. Imagine walking into your house and having to find an excuse as to why you returned at such an odd hour completely disheveled.

Now imagine having to see the culprit during a school day.

Last night, Abby was not only angry but also
hysterical.
She imagined that I'd somehow gotten stolen from my room, raped, and then left to die. And my lack of knowledge about what just happened did not help at all. She thought I'd been drugged!

In came the police. All I wanted to do was go to sleep and forget that I'd just seen Cameron being shot at by gangsters. I also wanted to forget the fact that somehow I'd seen him fling all three men off him without lifting a finger. But that was just before I'd blacked out. I was probably seeing things.

So the police arrived at around 3:00 a.m. demanding answers from me. I told them exactly what I knew; I'd gone out with a friend and became so terrified, I fainted.

Of course they didn't believe me. Here's their version of the story that I so discreetly eavesdropped on:

“We think she's been date-raped,” the fat police officer said curtly. I imagined him scribbling this newfound fact onto his pad and paper. Abby gasped so loudly, her lungs must've exploded.

The second officer continued. “From the evidence we've just been given, Miss Ramos was lured from her room by her male friend, taken to an unknown location, drugged, raped, and left on the lawn.”

“How do you know it's date rape?” Abby asked, still gasping.

Cue officer one. “She only released the gender of her friend — no name. She was also adamantly sure that nothing was wrong. Lastly, she failed to mention the location to where she was taken — she only clarified that she was in a car.”

Unsurprisingly, Abby gasped again. “That's terrible! What do I do?”

“Keep an eye on her,” Officer Two said. “Nothing seems wrong with her. All we have to do is run some tests for verification.”

Tests? I didn't want to have to run tests! If there was one thing I was absolutely-positively-confidently-irrevocably sure about — it was that I did
not
get date-raped. But I couldn't tell them what I really saw. They'd for sure think I'd been drugged. I knew that no matter what I'd be sent to the hospital to run tests. I had to keep this whole Cameron-flinging-guys-off-him-without-touching-them to myself.

But that didn't mean I had to forgive him.

I'd returned from the hospital around five, bitter and tired. I would've stayed home from school if it weren't for my grandmother. She found out that I
didn't
get raped or drugged so she, of course, felt stupid. So instead of apologizing to me and letting me go sleep, she chastised me for leaving with “this guy” without her permission. My punishment; go to school.

So that's what I did. I went to school and avoided Cameron to the point where I was practically plastered onto the ceilings just to hide from him. Whenever we did talk, he always put on this sad, I-don't-know-what-I-did face and expected me to just crumple into his arms and forgive him, even though I'd really wanted to.

Now, I sat at home, eating my dinner across the table from Abby. She sat there, swallowing her food loudly and clanking her plate with her fork awkwardly. We didn't say a word to each other. I barely ate. Whenever I closed my eyes I saw those guys beating Cameron up — and Cameron fighting back. The littlest noise would remind me of gun shots and I couldn't help but jump. I couldn't stop shaking.

Abby noticed this and dropped her fork. “Okay, give it up,” she said in a stern but not angry voice. “You didn't get drugged or raped last night but you
did
faint, you
did
come home disheveled and dirty, you're shaking, and your memory is all choppy. Tell me what really happened.”

“So you can call the police again?” I asked in way too harsh a voice.

Abby just stared at me. She took a drink from her glass before saying, “Who picked you up last night? And I want
the truth
.” Her huge brown eyes narrowed and the wrinkles on her face seemed to crease even more.

I stared back at her, wondering if I should disclose this information. Abby knew Cameron
well
. If I told her that he'd been treating me badly, she would all but erase him from the planet. And I didn't want to tell on Cameron. Even though he scared the crap out of me last night, he was still Cameron and I wanted to find out his reasons on my own, not while Abby held him by the neck.

“Nobody,” I finally answered, stabbing at my poorly cooked broccoli. One of these days I was going to fall over and die thanks to Abby's cooking. I just hoped I lived to nineteen first.

“
Mi hija
.” Abby's voice sliced through my ears like an arrow. “You tell me
now
who you went out with last night.
Now
.” I could've sworn that Abby's fingers had just extracted claws.

“Look, nothing happened to me,” I said, trying not to sputter guiltily. Then I ripped the bandage off, quickly saying. “I saw Cameron outside and went for a ride with him. That's it.”

Abby looked as if she were about to rip the table in half by the way she gripped it. Her face had just darkened and I knew she was out for blood. What had I just done?

“That boy,” she said, hesitantly. “That nice boy across the street.
He
took you out, made you faint, and left you on our lawn unconscious?”

All I could do was nod.

Then Abby was up, chucking her napkin onto the table angrily. She slipped on her expensive flip-flops and marched towards the front door.

“Abby, wait!” I cried after her, pushing away from the table. This was going to be the single most embarrassing moment of my entire existence if Abby went after Cameron. I had to stop her. Not only would my life be ruined, but my chances of ever getting with Cameron would diminish. I had to find a way to stop this.

“Abby!” I cried out, grabbing her arm.

“
No one
treats my granddaughter like this. I deserve an explanation.” Her expression was so determined; the bomb squad couldn't stop her.

I grabbed my jacket off the hook and caught sight of the time. It was seven thirty. Cameron would be in bed. “Abby! Cameron is in bed! You
know
he always goes to bed after seven. Are you sure you want to confront him now?” I knew this was a lame excuse, but it was all I had. Now everything about what he did to me vanished from my mind. All I wanted was to avoid ruining my chances with him — not guarantee that we'd never be together!

“Does it look like I care if the boy is asleep or not?” Abby almost screamed.

It didn't.

She yanked open the door, trudged across the wide street, marched up his driveway, and then knocked angrily on the front door.

Mila, Cameron's sweet housekeeper, opened the door. She had a smile on her face. “Hello, Mrs. Ramos,” she said with a kind, slightly accented voice. Mila wiped her hands onto her apron and placed her hands onto her hips. “What would you like?”

Despite Mila's kind welcoming, Abby pushed open the door and walked in. “Where are they?” she asked angrily.

“Mr. Sloane and Cameron?” Mila asked. “Oh, Mr. Sloane won't be returning until late tonight, but Cameron is home with Armando—”

Abby didn't even let her finish. She rushed into the house yelling, “Cameron!” to the top of the stairs. I quickly followed her inside, my mouth watering in response to the smell of chocolate-chip cookies.

“Um, what?” Cameron asked, poking his head through the entryway leading to the living room.

Abby walked up to him, pushed him into the living room, and shoved him onto the couch in under two seconds. Cameron stared up at her, confusion in his white-gray eyes. His mouth even hung open.

“What did you do to my girl?” she asked him, hands firmly placed on her hips. Her eyes were locked on Cameron's and I could tell it took everything for her not to punch him repeatedly. “She came home in bad shape last night.
What did you do
?”

Cameron's eyes immediately landed on mine and our gazes locked. Instantly, the butterflies in my stomach swarmed and I felt as though I were going to melt. I wanted to just fall into his lap and plead for forgiveness of my deranged grandmother.

“Answer me!” Abby screeched.

Cameron stood up from the couch, dusting crumbs off his white T-shirt. As he did so, the muscles in his arms rippled and I couldn't help but sigh. He was just so beautiful.

“I don't know why your granny panties are all in a knot,
grandma
,” he said, causing jaws to hit the floor all around the room, “because I wasn't the one who wanted her to follow me. She jumped into
my
ride, I told her to leave, she wouldn't. I wasn't going to waste my time so I just drove on. We ran into trouble and I handled it. She freaked, fainted, and I took her home.” He peered at me again, this time his eyes ran up and down my body as if I were an exhibit or something. “Big deal? No way,” he said calmly.

But Abby obviously disagreed. She took a step toward him and smacked him so hard in the face, he grunted and fell onto the couch. “You never,
ever
come to my girl again, you hear?” she shouted. “You don't speak to me in that tone, either! You'll be sorry when I tell your father.”

Cameron stood up again, apparently not worried about another blow. “I don't give a crap what you do, Grandma, so just get out of my house.”

What
? Why was Cameron talking like this! He would never dare say these things to my grandma! One time, he was afraid of telling Abby that she had sauce on her mouth because he thought that would be disrespectful. What was going on with him?

Abby gasped loudly and smacked Cameron on the face again. When Cameron didn't fall back, she slapped him on the other cheek and shoved him onto the couch. “I don't appreciate your behavior towards me, Cameron. You stay away from us.”

Abby grabbed my arm, spun on her heel, and marched out of the house, dragging me along with her.

“My pleasure!” Cameron called after her. “And it's
Cam
, not
Cameron
! You people get it right!”

Cam

I checked the time and smiled. Eight o'clock. Time to chill.

I stood up and stretched, wiping the chip crumbs off my chest and clothes. I nodded to Armando with a smile on my face. “You ready to chill tonight?” I asked him, flashing him a thumbs up.