When I hurry out of my room and into the bathroom, Cam is there, holding my perfume. “Perfect,” I say, snatching it from his hand. I spritz it on both sides of my neck, and when I turn back, Cam looks like he’s been hit by a truck. His eyes are fastened on the crook of my shoulder. “Daisy’d and Confused,” he says so quietly I almost think he’s talking to himself.
called it
