I keep Bruno in the bedroom and head back to my rental car to grab the rest of the items I brought. Since I take the subway to the office, owning a car in the city is unnecessary. Parking’s a bitch and expensive, but I got my license for random road trips.
After popping the trunk, I grab as many bags as I can. I brought enough perishables, medicine, drinks, cleaning supplies, and toilet paper to last for weeks. Of course, that was before I knew other people were staying at the cabin, so it might not last that long.
My goal is to stay quarantined for at least a month before I have to make a trip to the store. Last weekend, my roommates were out partying and could’ve infected me. It’s why I had to get the hell out of there as fast as I could. Cami’s a student at NYU, and it only shut down yesterday, which means she was around dozens of people too. So it’s best we steer clear of each other, which shouldn’t be an issue. This place is massive.
I have plenty of work and reading to keep me busy. Between that and taking Bruno out for walks and playtime, there’s no reason to be around Cami and her tool bag boyfriend.
“What are you doing?”
She’s so loud that I nearly jump out of my skin. “Jesus.” I groan, shaking my head as I continue to the kitchen and set the bags down. “What’s it look like?”
“Looks like you’re doing the opposite of leaving.”
“Very good. You’re so observant.” Pulling the items out of the bags, I start cleaning them with disinfectant wipes, then look over at her. “Why do you care if I’m here? You’ve done an incredible job of ignoring me for years. So, it shouldn’t be a problem for you now. Right?”
She crosses her arms, tilts her head, and squints at me. “Why do you insist on always being an asshole? Is it ingrained into your DNA or something? Or do you just enjoy pissing people off?”
I hold back a smirk because I’m getting to her as much as she used to get to me. “Nah. Just you, princess.”
Cami rolls her eyes, and her arms fall to her side. She’s still wearing next to nothing, but I’m sure she doesn’t care. She’s used to people gawking.
“I already stocked the fridge,” she says after I open it and try to make room.
“Yeah, I see that.” I move her stuff around and shove mine in. “Except this shit will go bad in just a few days. Unless you plan on growing a garden in the middle of winter, you’ll be out of food in a week.”
“I have plenty of frozen meals. And I can make a grocery order and have it delivered,” she states matter-of-factly.
“Out here? Not likely.” I grab the boxed food and put it in the pantry. “Not to mention, they’re all booked out two weeks or more with the increased demand.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Guess I didn’t think about that.”
“Do you even know how to cook?” I ask, already knowing the answer. Cameron St. James can’t boil water. She may be brilliant in school, but she’s not common sense smart. I can’t even place the blame on her for it, though, because it’s not entirely her fault. Unless Cameron was interested or invested in something, she didn’t care to learn more, and her parents never forced her to do anything for herself. It’s common knowledge that she’ll take over their family business, and she’ll have staff who’ll do her dirty work while she keeps it afloat.
Cami blinks and nervously shuffles her feet. “Well…not really. But it’s not like I was going to bring a chef to isolate with me. We’ll figure it out.”
“I take it Zaney boy can’t cook either?” I chuckle as I finish putting everything up.
“We never have to.” She shrugs unapologetically about her privileged life. “It can’t be that hard.”
I’m unable to hold back my laughter this time, and she scowls. I’m well aware of what Cami’s lifestyle includes—gourmet chefs, housekeepers, drivers, family jets, personal shoppers, extravagant everything. She’ll never know the sick feeling of not being able to pay bills while barely scraping by.
“You’re going to either burn the house down, burn yourself, or starve. The virus isn’t even your biggest threat. It’s your inability to feed yourself.”
“Do you always have to be such a dick?” she scolds with her hands on her hips. “Are you capable of being anything other than a condescending ass bag?”
“Well, I don’t know. Are you able to determine the difference between sarcasm and country club asshole traits? I’ll give you a guess which one your boyfriend is,” I say smugly. “And I’m ninety-nine point nine percent positive you’re not with him for his great personality.” Zane Vandenberg is the equivalent of a thirteen-year-old Justin Bieber who was just handed millions of dollars. His maturity level is the same, too.
“Ugh!” She throws up her arms, then stomps away.
“You need to get a sense of humor, Cami!” I shout through my laughter. “You’d think with all your billions, you could at least buy one! Maybe I can order you one and pay for overnight shipping?”
“Go to hell, Elijah!” she screams from the staircase.
“Don’t worry, I’m already there!” I yell back. Moments later, her bedroom door slams with a loud bang.
“Well, this is gonna be fun,” I mutter to myself.
I have no idea how long this crisis will last, but Cameron St. James may kill me before it’s over.
Chapter Three
CAMERON
DAY 2
I wake up to the sun streaming through the window and quickly remember I’m at the cabin with Eli.
There’s no way I’m spending weeks, possibly months, with him. Since we were teenagers, he’s lived to torment
