Camila's POV
Tyler texted me when he got home, saying that he and Antwan had come to an agreement. They wanted to come over early in the morning to make breakfast for Julia and talk to her. He assured me there would be no pressure—they wouldn't ask her to choose. It was just a gesture to let her know they weren't mad and they weren't going anywhere. He also told me he wasn't upset with me for lying to him—he understood why I did it.
That was a relief. Tyler was like a second brother to me, and I would've hated it if he were angry—especially now.
I told him they could come over, but they'd need to bring orange juice. Julia's favorite—and I was fresh out. He texted back:
"Already got it. Julia drinks that stuff like it's a drug 😂."
As promised, they were at my door by 7:30 AM—Antwan and Tyler. They both hugged me, and I let them in.
"Get cooking," I smiled. "Julia usually wakes up around 8 or 9 after an emotional crash."
They got right to it. I helped set the table, stole a few strips of bacon when they weren't looking, and laid out flowers for her. I watched as they quietly prepared everything for their talk with Julia. The scene tugged at my heart—Anthony used to make me breakfast just like this. I missed him. The ache returned suddenly, and tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I excused myself and walked out to the stables to talk to Kitty.
I sat there for a few minutes, letting the silence calm me. Then Tyler came out.
He sat beside me, gave me a soft hug, and gently patted my headband. "You okay?"
I didn't lie. "No," I admitted. "But... I will be. I just need time."
I wasn't sure I even believed it.
He nodded. "I'm here, Cam. Things will work themselves out."
That had become our go-to phrase anytime life fell apart.
I asked how things were going inside.
"I checked on Julia," he said. "Still out cold. It was 8:15. But she'll be up soon."
We talked for a while—about Julia, about him. He admitted that he thought he was in love with her. That he'd do anything to keep her in his life.
"I understand," I told him. "She deserves happiness. And so do you—and Antwan."
He smiled, grateful, and I sent him back inside to wait for her.
Julia's POV
I woke to the strong, familiar scent of bacon in the air.
Staying at Camila's was routine for me—I always kept extra T-shirts, shorts, socks, and I even knew where she stashed her new undies. Same went for her at my place. That's what best friends were for.
I figured she was the one burning bacon downstairs—she was addicted to it. Not that I was any better.
I showered, trying to wash away the emotional mess of yesterday. What would I even do if I saw the guys? Maybe I could hide here for six months… or run away. I couldn't face them. They probably didn't want to see me anyway. I kept telling myself that. There were better girls out there. It's not like they actually liked me. They couldn't have.
That was my mental loop—from the shower to the stairs.
Then I saw them.
I dropped my phone in shock.
Antwan and Tyler were standing in Camila's kitchen. Cooking.
They looked up and smiled at me.
I froze. I wanted to scream, run—do anything. But I was stuck. I forced myself to turn on my heel and ran upstairs to Camila's room, slamming the door behind me.
No. No way. I had to be imagining this.
I heard footsteps, then their voices—pleading with me to open the door. But I couldn't make out their words. Everything blurred. My eyes burned with tears again.
Why was this happening? I had authored my own fate—and this was the mess I'd written. How did I even get here?
I pressed my back to the door and slid down to the floor, trying to breathe.
Maybe I could climb out the window. That didn't make sense.
"Julia," Tyler's voice called softly through the door.
I barely recognized my own voice when I answered, "Do you guys promise… this isn't a confrontation? You won't ask me questions I can't answer? Please. Just promise."
I knew I didn't deserve it. I'd been wrong. But I needed some kind of safety.
"I promise," Tyler said calmly. "Antwan and I just came to check on you—and make you breakfast."
Antwan added gently, "We're sorry about yesterday. We didn't mean to hurt you."
Why were they apologizing? They had every right to be upset.
Then I heard Antwan's voice again: "You not hungry, Peanut?"
I was starving.
I laughed a little—shaky and unsure. "Maybe."
"Then open the door," he said. "I brought orange juice too."
I sat there for a few more minutes, trying to build up the courage.
Eventually, I stood up and opened the door.
They were both waiting there, not judging. Just present.
I stepped out—embarrassed—and they walked me down to the kitchen. The table was beautifully set, full of food, full of effort.
I was overwhelmed—but in the best way.
"Sit," Tyler said gently. "Eat."
So I did.