6:30 PM
"Sure, he's cute and all. But if he seriously thinks that I'm—"
"Kristen." Camille stressfully raked her hand through her scalp. "Can you please just focus for a minute? Please. I really need your help here." She took a black pen and readily positioned her hand on a notebook.
"Oh, sorry. Okay, what was that again?"
"This one item in the book. I've been working around it all night but I still I don't understand how you get that answer."
"Simple. See that second to the last number in the third one? Take that, then get the cube root of the fourth—" She paused. "You follow?"
"Waitwaitwait. You're going too fast." She sighed, tucking her light brown hair behind her ear. A finger scratched her temple. "Can't you just come over here?"
"No! I don't want to imagine what kind of dirty things you and and your boyfriend have done in your room."
"We're not like that, for your information."
"Now I'm sure someone who does things like that would definitely say something like that."
She rolled her eyes in annoyance, when an abrupt knock on the door interrupted their conversation.
"Whatever, Kristen. I gotta go."
Camille climbed over her bed, irritated by Kristen's judgmentality. Just because she's seen us literally sleep together one time. She frustratedly straightened out her shirt and twisted the doorknob open. It was Mike, Moose's classmate from dance, standing at the door. Beside him was Moose himself, whose arm was slung around the taller boy's shoulder for support. Her boyfriend simply gave her a crooked grin. She furrowed her brows in confusion, then her eyes trailed down, and there it was.
Moose's left foot was wrapped in elastic bandages.
"Oh my god. What happened?"
Mike slowly led him into the room as Moose tried his best to keep up. Mike stooped down so that the curly-haired boy could sit down on the bed. Camille scuttled and dragged her swivel chair in front of Moose's legs as she helped him prop his foot up.
"I hope you don't mind me barging in, Cam."
"Of course not."
"Just so you know, Camille, I insisted on bringing him to his own room. Where he hardly ever sleeps in." He removed Moose's arm from his neck. He brought his hands to his waist like a scolding dad. "I don't know why you even got one, dude."
Moose shrugged defensively. "What? Camille's presence alone makes me feel better."
She smiled bashfully at his cheesiness as Mike shook his head in disapproval. "No, Mike. It's fine." She turned to Moose, her eyes filled with concern. "How did this happen?"
"It's nothing, really," he said with utmost confidence. Mike plainly gave Moose a dirty look. "It's not nothing, Camille. He landed on his foot wrong while showing off a new stunt in class. But he'll be fine. We already took him to the nurse."
She bit her lip. "How long until he could dance again?"
"He'll be up and running in a week, no problem," Mike said.
Camille looked down on his feet, observing the way it's tightly wrapped. "Okay. So should I ice his foot or anything?"
Mike's eyes widened in realization. "Oh, that reminds me." He reached behind him and dug through his bag, handing her a piece of paper and a purple ice pack. "The nurse wrote down some instructions. Just follow that and he'll be good in no time."
Camille nodded. "Thanks, Mike." She sighed and mumbled, "He shouldn't have been monkeying around."
Moose frowned, quite irked that they're talking as if he wasn't there. "Hello? Still in the room, just saying."
"You brought this on yourself, dude," Mike chuckled. Camille sighed. "Thank you again, Mike. Seriously."
"No worries. Just call if you need any help." He took a step backwards. "Get well soon, man," he said before finally shutting the door.
Camille plopped down on the bed beside him, exhaling. "You should have been more careful, Moose. Thank god it's just a sprain."
"Cam. I'm bound to get a sprain. I go to school to dance." He awkwardly reached for the zipper of his hoodie, but it got caught on his bracelet in the process. Camille helped him yank it off, chuckling quietly. She assisted him as he shrugged the striped jacket off of his body, leaving him in a thin white v-neck shirt.
"And that's exactly why you should be more careful. The dancing part, I mean."
"Okay, mom. I'm sorry. Won't happen again."
She glowered at him and forcefully slapped his arm, making him chuckle. She's so cute when she's pissed. "I'm serious, Moose. I know I'm being too hard on you, but I'm not the one who sprained an ankle for doing careless stunts."
He shook his head arrogantly, winking an eye. "Don't worry about it, Cam. But the fact is we're dancers. We practically live for injuries. You know how it is."
"Sure," she muttered. He grinned lopsidedly, teasing her. The apples of his cheeks rose up along with the corners of his mouth. The pinkish surface of his lips looked extremely soft, she thought. "Stop that," she sternly said, conscious that she might smile involuntarily. She was not about to give him the satisfaction.
"What?"
"Stop giving me that look."
"What?" His voice rose up, genuinely dumbfounded by what's happening.
"You're giving me your go-ahead-don't-be-afraid-to-kiss-my-soft-lips face."
He snorted. "They're not that soft."
"They look like they are," she softly said, slightly quirking her brow.
"Then kiss me," he urged.
"But I'm supposed to be annoyed at you."
"Then the kiss will make it all go away."
She laughed, giving in. Finally, she leaned in and crashed her mouth into his. It was indeed just as soft as it looked. Her hand rested comfortably on his chest. He smiled in satisfaction. "Do you feel better now, Cammpphpm—" Her desperate kiss cut him off. She grinned as she locked his lips with hers, burying her fingers in his curls before he could speak another word.
—
Camille paced around the room while reading the nurse's note. Her fingers rested on her chin, thinking. "So the nurse says that we must ice your foot for 15 to 20 minutes, three to five times a day for the first three days of the injury."
Moose stressfully puffed out a breath. "Complicated. This should be fun."
"The foot must be elevated above heart level as much as possible."
"Nice," he said, lying down on the bed with his arms under his head.
She paused. "Also, you must take some pain relievers."
"Awesome!"
She chuckled, amused by his positivity even though his foot—his holy grail—is temporarily useless. "Why are you so casual about this?"
"It's just a sprained ankle. I'm pretty sure I'll be okay."
"This is your feet we're talking about Moose. The things you use to dance on. I don't know if you're familiar with those?"
Her sarcasm cracked him up. "I think you're thinking of this way too negatively. Look at the bright side!"
She sat beside him, dropping her shoulders. "And what do you think is the bright side of all this, Moose?"
He slowly pulled his body upwards. He put a finger up, enumerating the pros of the situation. "Inactivity. Which means I could stay in bed all day for a whole week. Number two: elevators. Number three: crutches." He held his hands up and dropped his jaw in amazement. "Cool, right? And four: no dance classes. This time, I could actually fully concentrate on schoolwork without any part of my body tapping out of nowhere."
Camille shook her head in disbelief. Of course Moose would think that sprained ankles and crutches are cool. "Your dancing is your schoolwork. I know it doesn't feel like it is, but you gotta think of it like that."
He beamed, his canines peaking out. "Since when did you become my mother, Cam?"
She quirked an eyebrow. "Whenever you keep messing around—which is all the time." She grabbed the ice pack from her bedside table and went to the fridge to fill it with ice cubes. She tossed it into the air and caught it as it landed in her hand. "Ice time, Moose." She kneeled down beside him and began to compress his foot with the pack, making sure to hit every sore spot.
"Does it hurt?"
"It's alright."
He squirmed in discomfort. His thick blue jeans made his leg feel even more uncomfortable being propped up. Camille noticed it right away. "Do you wanna change your pants?"
He blinked. "I don't have some."
She left the ice pack on his calf. She walked to her closet, opening her top drawer. Her hands dug in and pulled out two pairs of sweatpants—one black, the other blue. "Color?" She asked nonchalantly. He shook his head and parted his lips in surprise. "Have you been stealing my clothes? You sneaky chameleon."
She shrugged, grinning as she tossed him the blue pair. "You practically live in my room, Moose. In case you haven't noticed." He froze momentarily, staring at the long pants. She raised her eyebrows. "You gonna change?"
"Um, sure," he grunted. He fumbled for his belt and zipper, carefully unbuttoning and pulling the jeans down as to not hurt his foot. Surprisingly, it's difficult to take your pants off while sitting down. He chuckled as he caught her looking at him as he stripped down to his boxers. "You're staring."
She rolled her eyes. "Please. You're saying that now?" She snorted. When he finished changing, she sat down beside his feet again, pressing ice to his injury.
Moose reached over. "Let me do it, Cam. I'm not disabled you know."
"You kinda are. Let's be real," she chuckled.
"You're making me feel guilty," he frowned.
"You're injured, alright? Just let me take care of you."
Moose dropped his shoulders, grinning although defeated. Camille sometimes treats him like a little boy. It made him feel insecure, to be perfectly honest. It's not that she couldn't trust him with simple things, but it's just that he doesn't want her to feel like he's a responsibility she needs to attend to. She's his girlfriend, not his babysitter.
"Just this once, alright?"
—
After a while, they ended up silently lying down on her bed. Camille was resting on his chest while his arm was behind her head, acting as her pillow. A sweet, thoughtful, funny, talented, slender, curly-haired pillow. Meanwhile, Moose's sprained foot was very creatively—and resourcefully—elevated on top of stacked blankets and textbooks. They stared at the TV as they did so, casually watching a Harry Potter movie since it was conveniently on for some reason.
Camille soon felt the exhaustion catch up to her. She didn't get much sleep the night before due to attempting to study the chapters she didn't quite understand. Above all that, her stubbornness wouldn't allow her to ask help from anyone, resulting to two measly hours of rest. Giving Kristen a call was her final cry of desperation. It would have been easier if Kristen was a little more helpful, though. She shook it off. It didn't matter anymore. At this point, all she could think about was getting some decent sleeping hours.
Once the credits rolled, Moose glanced down on Camille to find her soundly asleep. Already? It was only 8 in the evening. They usually slept at around ten. He chuckled to himself. Then, as he heard his stomach angrily rumble, he realized that they haven't had any dinner. Shoot. He carefully and gently slid his arm from under her head, making sure not to disturb her. While dragging the swivel chair for support, he slowly but surely limped to the pseudo kitchen, trying to find something to eat. This is probably dangerous, but whatever. Like an old man, he slowly bent down as he opened the mini fridge. Baby carrots, sliced bread, hummus, lettuce, milk, eggs, turkey meat. Stumped, he scratched the back of his head. Unlike Camille, he couldn't cook for his life. Thankfully, he found instant cup noodles lying around in her cupboard along with some cereals and a few canned goods. He turned on the electric kettle as he sat down, waiting for the water to boil. Once the kettle automatically stopped, he opened the cups and poured hot water into them, letting it do its magic. While waiting for the noodles to be edible enough, he limped again with the swivel chair by his side. He sat down on the bed, gently nudging Camille's shoulder. "Hey," he whispered. "Awake yet, Cam? Dinner's ready." Barely.
She opened her eyes, startled and disoriented. "What time is it?"
"I made some instant noodles. I coulda whipped up some turkey sandwiches, but I'd rather not attempt to cook and feed you raw meat."
She chuckled. "Thank you." She raked a hand through her hair as she sat up and sighed loudly. "Sorry. I should have been the one looking after you."
"Please, Camille. At this level of sleep deprivation, you're just as injured as I am." He smiled crookedly. "I know," she exhaled, grinning as she shook her hair to the side. She stood up to get forks and the cups full of curly noodles from the little kitchen counter. She handed him the other one before she sat down.
Then, she raised the cup above her head as if giving a toast. "To sprained ankles and sleep deprived noodles!"
He burst out in laughter. "To sprained ankles and sleep deprived noodles. 'Til the very end of college."
Another piece of good news, everyone! I've finally published a post-Step Up All In series called Nothing Will Change. It's very much like One Month Later, only that Moose and Camille have matured and are currently living together in LA. Yay for more lovely Moosille action :p Check it out!
Again, I could not thank you enough for reading! (You're prob sick of hearing this lol). Until next time ❤️