Hi. I'm sorry this took so long. Don't be mad. Hope you like this. And to all of you that were waiting since, what? Summer vacay?: Virtual hugs. Oh yeah. Don't you feel the love?

Disclaimer: Yea so, I don't own it. So don't ask.

I was having trouble breathing. Every breath I took was filled with the scent of cinnamon and it was just too much. I felt like I was drowning in Camille and I could quite possible become crazier than I already was. Every silent breath I took made me fall more in love with her. But I didn't even have to open my eyes to know she wasn't here. I didn't even have to be fully awake. I was cold and Camille was the warmest person in the world. There was no way she could be with me now. But where was she? Was she still in the apartment? Was she out at the pool? Was she by herself?

Or was she with Logan?

That though caused my eyes to burst open and search the room. Her room. It was completely empty without her here. I stared down at my chest that now felt hollow without her lying on top of it. I licked my chapped lip as I wondered where on earth she was. I was concentrating hard but as I tasted the vanilla flavored lip gloss on my lips my mind was drawn to the twenty seven kisses we shared yesterday. I memorized every second of yesterday's events because that was the closest I've ever been to Camille. I don't think I've even hugged her before. But yesterday…yesterday….

Was it yesterday?

I frowned as I searched Camille's bedroom for a clock and growled slightly when I found nothing. Sighing I got up slowly, ignoring my muscles that were screaming in protest, and began what felt like long walk to the kitchen. I groaned in pain as I touched my temple. I was experiencing a throbbing, painful feeling that couldn't even be compared to a headache. No amount of Advil will ever cure this. I slowly entered the kitchen groaning every second of the way.

Why did I drink?

This was yet another thing that Camille was right about. I should have never drunk the vodka. But then again Camille is always right. Even when she's wrong, she's wrong with logic. That's just the way she was. She might even be able to rival Logan.

Sighing I look towards the microwave for the time. My brows furrow in confusion almost immediately after.

8:30pm.

Seriously?

What the hell? Is the world going in slow motion or something? I feel like it should be 3:00am or something. Maybe my mental gauge is broken? Exactly where could Camille be at 8:30? Shouldn't she be at home watching TV or someth-

I groaned in pain and rubbed my head in frustration. This headache was going to kill me!

Rubbing my tongue against the roof of my mouth I walked carefully to the refrigerator, feeling as if any move I made would cause my head to explode. Opening the fridge gingerly I searched the shelves for something to drink. My eyes froze on a jug of water. If my mouth wasn't so dry it would have watered at the sight. Grabbing the jug I pulled it from the shelf and put it down on the counter. In one swift motion I pulled of the top and brought the jug to my lips, gulping hungrily. It was weird how drinking made you thirsty as hell. I ignored the water that fell from the corners of my mouth, down my chin, and onto my shirt. That's how thirsty I was.

Taking a final gulp I pulled away from the jug, panting. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before tossing the jug into the empty sink. Sighing, I turned to leave before my body froze. I turned slowly back to the jug and returned to the sink to fill it back up again. I don't need Camille to get madder at me than she already was.

Speaking of Camille…

Where was she? I mean there are a million places she could be. But, considering the fact that she failed to leave a note, I'm almost sure that she's with Logan. I clench my jaw slightly at the thought and try to think calmly. Since she was with Logan, and Logan had accepted her request for a date, there is a 100% percent chance they're doing something romantic. Since Logan's good at that it's probably seriously planned to the T, but then again Camille loves that kind of thing.

Ok. Now I have to think logically here. It's highly unlikely that Logan took Camille to the moon. It's possible but how is he going to rent a rocket? I mean, I've tried. There is not one reliable rocket renting place in LA, it's not even funny how many posers there are out there. Plus what we he do about oxygen? That stuff is freaking expensive and I know Logan doesn't have that kind of cash.

So on to option number two. The pool. It's predictable and probably something Logan would do. I can even picture exactly what would happen. Logan would gesture dramatically to the pool and Camille would blush. She would then grin at him and take off the sweatshirt she has over her swimsuit. Logan will blush and look away. She'll smirk and get a running start to the pool before cannonballing in. She'll laugh and tell him 'the water's great come in' and he will and he'll swim towards her and tell her how stupid he's been for never noticing how wonderfully amazing she is and he'll ramble for a bit and she'll tell him to shut up and kiss her and he will and-

OH MY GOD! Bad image, bad image-!

I need a hot shower.

And with that thought, I leave the overflowing jug in the sink as I search for the bathroom.

I exhale slowly through my nose as I walk down Camille's hallway on my way back to the living room. I drop my wet shirt in a small hamper by the bathroom door before continuing down the hallway at a leisurely place.

Okay. I have to look on the bright side of things. There are other places Camille might be other than somewhere romantic with Logan.

Oh who am I kidding?

As I walk into the kitchen I began to brainstorm the possible places the owner of the house (and…ugh…Logan) might be.

Vegas?

No. Logan is way too nervous to gamble.

Fancy shmancy restaurant?

No. Logan is broke.

Sitting on the hood of his car watching the stars on some romantic hill somewhere?

No. Logan doesn't have a car.

I open the fridge and absentmindedly grab a carton of milk as I whisper scenarios to myself. Walking through the door that connects the kitchen to the living room I robotically open the carton.

Minnesota?

No. Camille doesn't have any winter clothes.

Tilting my head back I take a couple gulps of milk and promptly choke on it as I see the face of none other than Camille.

Don't worry I've already started another one so you won't be waiting as long. i have this weird thing with this story that all chapters have to be four pages. this one was six pages so it got cut. but the other one is three so its almost done. but i'll give you guys time to review and tell me what you would like to happen or what i might be doing wrong before i post it. Maybe it'll be up next week since I'm off Monday, Wednesday, and Tuesday. Don't know why I went out of order there. Anyways, Goodnight people. I'm as tired as hell. I can't even type properly. Bye. Hugs.

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