Seeing Jazmine sit on his purple comforter with ease stirs a confusing mix of emotions for Cameron. The first of which is jealousy that she didn’t need a stepping stool to get on his bed despite how high it was lofted. There was also disbelief that this was happening at all. But the warm, deep satisfaction swelling in the ginger’s chest exceeded both as it hit him that she was, in fact, here. In his dorm. On. His. Bed. 

Seriously! Her shoes were literally lined up right next to his by the exit like they belonged there. And honestly…they might be the same size, which meant they could totally-

No. Cameron shakes away the last of that thought before he could be even more delusional. He looks back to Jazmine hoping to clear his head, but she swipes off her hoodie, a bit of her black beater rising above her navel. The ginger nearly sprains his neck turning around. 

“D-dang, Gare forgot to close the blinds before he left!” Rushing over to the window, Cameron takes deep breaths as he turns the first wand. He couldn’t fuck up after the night going so well. Almost too well, he thinks suspiciously. 

After leaving the cafe, they ate in the communal area to avoid making the room smell like garlic from the pasta bar. Sitting with her in the student union was pleasant and effortless. Cameron was in awe of how easily she kept the conversation going, shifting from favorite crafts and most hated fabric textures to the best swimming holes nearby. Now she’s in his room, looking at his safe haven appreciatively. It feels like he’s dreaming, but the wooden clock on the wall says it’s not even ten o’clock yet. 

Wonder what I’d dream if I were-

“Whimsigoth?”

“Huh?” Realizing he zoned out, Cameron jerks away from the blinds towards her. “What did you-”

THWACK!

Cameron and Jazmine flinch immediately. Glancing behind, the ginger could feel himself turn red as he realized it was the stupid wand. He’d accidentally thrown the wand up in his moment of shock, and the momentum of it swinging back down made the plastic smack against the glass. It would have smacked against the blinds again if he hadn’t caught it in time. 

“Shit, I am so sorry!” Kill me now. 

“You’re good, Cam,” Jazmine reassures, shaking her head.

It didn't feel good. However she didn’t look mad, so Cameron decided to move on – quickly – and hoped his embarrassed flush would fade in the next few seconds.

“Uh, wh-what were you saying?” 

“Your decor,” Jazmine says, pointing to the room. “Whimsigoth, right? I’m somehow surprised, yet,” the junior continues, eyes traveling up and down his frame with a slight smile, “It tracks with your vibe.”

That’s it. I’m not going to make it if we’re making eye contact. Knowing he can’t answer without stuttering if he continues to face her way, Cameron moves to his vanity—his dorm-assigned desk turned makeshift dressing table—and starts removing his jewelry.

“True,” Cameron admits with a shrug. The ginger carefully pours oil into his palm, lips lifting slightly. “I love anything remotely connected to the grunge style. The sub-scenes, the aesthetics they get confused with, and things they generally share—like that punk mindset. It doesn’t have to match, be new, or be in, ya know? Maybe the palette is a little dark, but it’s cozy to me. Maybe there’s too much lace, or it looks too witchy to some, but... It’s freeing in its own way and…” the ginger says slowly, catching her amused smile. “Um, yeah.”

“That’s really cool. I wish I could pull that off, but I’ll leave it to the expert.” 

Cameron tries not to let the casual compliment go to his head, scrubbing his cheeks harshly to cover up the returning blush. “Stop gassing me up. What about you? I can’t quite get a read on your style, but you seem to like athleisure."

“Yeah, sounds about right. I basically throw on whatever’s going to be comfortable, and then show off the occasional slip of skin when I’m feeling myself.”

Laughing, the ginger’s eyes immediately seek her. He can’t help but giggle—giggle—as she wags her eyebrows suggestively. Unable to last too long, he goes back to focusing on wiping the last little bit of makeup off his face. 

“Please, tell me more about this occasional display.”

Surprisingly, her voice isn’t playful as she continues. “Sometimes, I want to be reminded that I do have a nice body—that I’m attractive…or desirable, I guess.”

Although a stubborn section of mascara remains, Cameron stops entirely, hands bumping against the table as he looks over at her. Jazmine isn’t bowed or embarrassed, only a slight sardonic twist to her smile. Nonetheless, it did trouble him. 

“Jazmine, no one in their right mind would question either of those things. Not when it comes to you,” Cameron says far more passionately than he intended, but meant regardless. The ginger doesn’t know how to react as she shrugs nonchalantly. 

“Yeah. I know that in the back of my head, but sometimes I’m vain. I admit that.”

“Wanting to be desired isn’t vain,” he insists, scrubbing the stubborn remnants roughly to hurry the process. “It’s human.” I would know, Cameron finishes quietly to himself. A few old aches he typically ignores, faintly begin to hurt again as she continues.

“Yeah. It is. But at moments, it feels silly to crave that. Like I haven’t worked on myself enough.”

The sophomore scoffs immediately. “You’re in your twenties…” Cameron stands and walks to his partition, throwing a nearby sweater over the fold so he wouldn’t flash his guest. “You have every right to be unfinished.”

“Yeah. Everyone keeps telling me that, but…I guess my brain is still catching up.”

“Brains do take time to do that. But if you can give other people consideration, why aren’t you worth that? You like, owe yourself that much.”

For several moments, the only sounds in the room were fabric shifting and sliding into the hamper. It makes Cameron worried that he went too far the longer it stretches. Finally, in his pajamas—which definitely were one of his cuter cami and short lounge sets—he steps away from the partition nervously.