Nocturnal

It was dinner time and I was still trying to wrap my brain around Trigg formulas. My teacher didn't let us breathe. It was only the first week of school and I was already swamped with homework that could last 'till next year. Sitting at my Victorian white desk was the last thing I wanted to be doing—but laying on my bed staring at the ceiling, swooning, wasn't going to help my future. I wanted to swoon, though—I wanted to think about tomorrow… because tomorrow... tomorrow I was going to meet Phillip at the Lighthouse.

I nibbled my lip at the thought, a short smile showing. I had the strangest feelings brewing in the depths of my stomach, I'd felt them before—over grades, over being the center of attention for the wrong reasons—this, what I was feeling, was nervousness. I had never felt this way for a boy. Was this what other girls my age felt when they were asked out? I giggled—I'd been asked out.

By the time my mind stopped wondering about what to wear—it was official, I was going all-Barbie-like—my notebook was filled with... numbers. That sounded normal since what I was solving was trigg. But... the numbers didn't fit into this problem and they were all around—scattered. The same numbers all over the page—16 and 9.

I jerked my hand letting the pencil roll out of it. What in the name of—

"Nina!" Henry's voice broke into my room just as the door slammed the wall—he came running like an energetic rabbit.

I had trouble moving my eyes from the hard etched numbers on my notebook, I knew Henry was calling me, there was just something there... something in them like... like they were trying to—my arm was tugged and I snapped to the side seeing a messy head.

"Whatcha looking at?" he bounced lightly on his feet getting near the desk—on pure instinct my hand latched to his arm, spinning him to me. He looked startled but alright.

"Just..." I covered up the weirdness with a shrug. "Just something you won't have to worry about for more seven years." I smiled when he made a face knowing I was talking about school stuff. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking, mister?" I held a finger to his face poking his nose, he giggled.

"Sorry," he mumbled with an adorable childlike voice—he was being cute on purpose. This kid really knew how to get around me. I smiled. "I'm just too excited! You know what I did today, do ya'? Do ya'?"

"Nope, what did you do?"

Henry puffed out his chest, placing his hands on his hips like a tiny version of Super-man.

"I went to the soccer tryouts! The coach said I was really good—I scored twice!" Ah, yes, soccer. Henry's love and passion for the game started only two years ago, but it grew fast when he saw how good he was. "I wish you could have seen it, Dad wasn't there on time either... he's always late to pick me up anyway." He sulked for like two seconds before jumping to my bed. He sat on the edge, swinging his legs. "What about you? Did something cool happen to you?"

Writing things without knowing and fainting in the middle of school didn't make the cut on my list of coolness. I bet it would sound awesome in Henry's little ears, though. Not like I was about to tell him.

"Nothing much, same old boring day." Apart from Phillip asking me out—I cracked an absent smirk. "There was a guy who asked me out."

His green eyes grew into bug-like proportions.

"You're... going out with a guy?" he stuck out his tongue. "Ew, I bet you're going to do what mom and dad do—you know... kissing on the mouth." I blushed one hundred percent certain that wouldn't be the case. "I don't get why people want to do that... it's so gross. And I bet it tastes funny too. I'm never doing that." Oh yeah, he would. There would come a time when Henry would stop thinking kissing was horribly disgusting.

I shook my head, "We're just getting to know each other. I'm making friends with him, that's all." I got up to stretch my legs. "No kissing involved."

"Who's going to kiss who?" mom's head popped from the hallway—really?

"Nina's gonna go on a date with a boy!" Now he was singing the words, what a turn of mood and what a little rat. I wasn't planning on telling mom just yet—I was going to wait. Like, maybe until... never?

Lord knew she'd go—

"Ooh, who is it? Is he cute? How old is he? Is he taking any of your classes—" yep, just as predicted she was going ballistic. She always acted this way when she found out about something. So many questions... I didn't know where to start answering. "What's his name?"

Mom sat perched on my bed—Henry scampered off, giggling like a sneaky Gremlin that had just wrecked havoc.

Turning to her I crossed my arms.

"Doesn't anyone know the word privacy in this house?"

"The door's wide open, honey, I was just passing by and..." she shrugged. "I heard the exciting news." Her eyes held all kinds of sparkles. Geez, it was like I was going to get married tomorrow. "So, who's the lucky guy?"

I didn't know about lucky, after what happened today I seemed to be getting freakier.

"His name's Phillip." I had no where to run from mom, not when she looked like the Cookie Monster—only instead of cookies she fed of gossip.

"Phillip, huh? I kind of like it." She said after a while. "More," of course.

"We have English together. I met him on the first day of school—he's friend's with Dawn." Dawn had been the only person I'd mentioned. No one else had seemed relevant—I thought about telling her about Cameron and what he did to piss me off, hoping I could get a restraining order to keep him at least fifty feet away from me. It was such an immature thing to come up with... at least I'd dropped it.

"Why didn't you tell me about him sooner?" I sunk my shoulders. It didn't really have a reason. "What does he look like?"

"Mom—"

"Nina, it's my job as a mother to make sure you hang out with nice people."

I frowned.

"I don't think you can tell that by the way he looks." That logic was flawed on so many levels it could be a Swiss cheese.

"Humor me, okay?"

I sighed, "Fine," I leaned my head back. "He's super tall, sandy hair—a little rusty-looking—and his eyes..." I closed my own as I said the word. I kept them closed conjuring the image of a pair of sparkling—my whole body stiffened on new levels. What I saw... the image wasn't Phillip's eyes. It was... it was Cameron's. Coal-black, shinning pupils like an intense light at the end of a dark tunnel—what was this?

My mind didn't process why I was thinking of Phillip and seeing his twin brother's gaze because with Cam's eyes came something else. A memory.

"...you're only putting everyone in danger!" Cameron's yell of rage rang though the planes of my mind causing me to cringe—there was more there, in my head, but... but... it was fuzzy especially after... after our gazes locked. Mine and Cam's. That was it—I remembered what happened in the hallway, the last part of it, how I'd fainted. My eyes simply crossed Cameron's obsidian ones and... the magnitude of what travelled between us. I... had no idea what that had been, but it was something, something powerful—it scared me. What did this mean? I almost choked—what did it mean? That I was crazy. What kind of feeling could knock someone out?

There had to have been something more, something else. Didn't it?

There was a throaty sound from across my desk chair. Whoops. My memory had me so spaced out I'd forgotten my mom was there in my room. Her lips in a tight line with worry. Guess the teenage-girl mode had left the building.

"Is everything alright...?" ah crap, if she was going to start speculating about what I did in my free time, I was going to yell. We'd already moved miles and states away from California, what did she want more?

"It is, why wouldn't it be?" I threw a little harder than intended.

My mom's eyebrows drew close to each other.

"It's nothing, honey." She mumbled. "It's just... you were fine one minute then the other... it was like, like there wasn't anyone home."

I forced down the saliva filling up my mouth. Like there was no one home. Wow. Did that mean that I'd been looking all vacant-eyed? 'Cuz that was what crazy people looked like, catatonic people or whatever. None of those descriptions fell right with me.

"Well," I started summoning a shaky smile—I was pretty sure if I got up now, I would need crutches. "I'm fine. I was just thinking about..." what had I been thinking about exactly? Before the hallway memory hurled into me, what had I been thinking...? I scrunched my face—Phillip. "I was thinking about Phillip, about his eyes. They're... they're stunning." Why had it taken so long for me to push aside thoughts about Cameron—the devil's spawn—and remember Phillip? It was like his gaze, that well of blackness, made me forget. Forget about all.

"What color are they?" I slipped out of my little world of thoughts, joining my mother in the real world. Her voice seemed to be lighter again, cheery.

"Blue—they're the most startling blue I've ever seen." I was trying to put a happy boost behind my words, I wasn't feeling quite as joyful as before.

"Sounds hot."

"Mom!" I blushed a tenfold. Phillip was hot—spelled H-A-W-T, hot, but... come on? My mom saying that about a kid my age? So not cool. "What would Nigel say if he heard you?"

She laughed. "I'm only kidding, trying to embarrass you—you know, typical mom stuff." That got me breathing a little easier. "When are you going out with him?"

"Tomorrow," I swept a strand away. "We're meeting in the Lighthouse." I didn't need to explain what the Lighthouse was to her. She knew pretty well—everyone did. It was the place pumping with teenagers, it was a meeting point after school and the place to party around here.

"Okay," she nodded filled with approval—then stopped. Face going to the extremes of hen-mother. "Now, the most important thing," I blinked honestly having no clue what she was going to say, I was half-scared she was going to have the sex talk... which would be majorly out of context. "Is he nice?" really, that was it? I thought my mom had been about to unleash... well, something way bigger than that.

"Super-nice," I saw her face slack like she'd been hit with a tranq. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be going anywhere with him."

"Good. Because I don't want you hanging with... bad people, bad companies, you know what I'm saying here?" that I shouldn't tell her about Phillip's twin? He sounded like a bad company.

"Yes, mommy." I mocked, chuckling when her cheeks reddened.

"I'm serious, Nina. Stay away from—"

"I know. I will—promise." I joined my hands going all puppy-eyed on her, she let out a sigh. "Phillip's a good guy, really, mom. I won't get involved in any craziness—not that anything seems to happen around this no-man land." I rolled my eyes with tedium. "I'll be good." Not that I'd ever been bad. Nope.

My mom's darker hair fell from her shoulders when she stood, going for my door. There she turned with a bright smile.

"Alright then," Goodie, she was satisfied. "Come down in five, got it?"

"Yeah, I'm just wrapping up this exercise, be right down." The door closed.

My brain reeled. Now with my mother out of the room I could try and make sense of what happened today. Not just the numbers, but also the fainting. I knew it was no worth thinking about it, though. No matter how I tried there wouldn't be an answer, like there had never been an answer for my dreams...

Sighing, I took a rubber erasing the well-imprinted sixteen's and nine's—the after mark wasn't going away. And as I looked at the Trigg equation I saw I was nowhere close to solving it.

***

I hadn't spoken to Dawn since yesterday after I left the cafeteria. She hadn't called me asking what happened, my guess was someone told her—probably Phillip. I thought about calling her before opening my closet and throwing half of it onto my bed but... I'd remembered the devastated expression from yesterday—when we'd talked about Cam and Vanessa—I didn't want to bother her. She was going through something hard, it would suck if my best friend didn't want to talk to me or get close. It would suck that she confided more in Phillip—who was Cameron's brother, the guy who broke Vanessa's heart when she needed him most. What a tool. I couldn't understand what any girl saw in Cameron Leale—besides the outside, that was. He was rude, rough, and uncaring. Still, Phillip said that wasn't the real him—that was what he showed everyone, what he made people believe. I wasn't going to argue anymore with him on that because it was clearly a sore spot to Phillip, but I didn't really believe him.

I focused on other things other than the twins and their distinct personalities. I was happy today; I'd slept better than most nights. There hadn't been a dream of me running for my live. Yesterday, I'd dreamed of something else, something completely different. There were lots of people, mostly kids my age, a lot of commotion—I'd seen flashes of two colors red and... black? I wasn't sure. I think the people were cheering. It had been dark in my dream, so probably nighttime. I hadn't felt anything; no emotions had made my heart pound. I had, however, felt cold. It had been stinging my skin like little spider bites. I didn't wake up, it faded. I was satisfied with the change, maybe that creepy running through a forest crap wasn't anything, it would never come to pass. God, I sure hoped it didn't. I wasn't ready to go out crashed to death by a pine tree.

A knock came from the other side of my door.

"Yes?" I threw another top onto bed; it had too many flower patterns. Damn, what was I supposed to wear? I just wanted to go with normal clothes—T-shirt, jeans, converses and... I took a minute, walking to the open window stretching out my arm. Maybe take a jacket, the breeze was moist.

Mom was inside my room when I turned back to the closet.

"Did someone break in? Because it looks like your room has been ravaged."

"Not my room," I let out an exasperated sigh. "Only the closet," I stared at my mom with big eyes and spoke slowly, like I was on the verge of insanity. "I have no idea what to wear."

Hearing that made my mother burst into laughter. I wondered if those loud pitches were healthy.

"My girl's finally at that stage." What, the stage where I had to buy a new wardrobe for each date, then not pick anything? I didn't like the sound of that. "Just relax, Nina. It's not dinner or anything fancy—not even the movies. Just go with casual." Casual? Like everyday normal? Well, that had been what I wanted to do... "Put some perfume, use a pretty necklace—and did you paint your nails?" I held up the canary-colored hand nails. "Yellow," she muttered fondly. "Some things never change."

I gave a grin, "Nope." Since I could remember yellow—all kinds of it—had been my favorite color. "Casual..." I looked through the slush piles of clothing. I picked out a T-shirt and jeans, things I would use to school any day with no qualms. Then I got my converses on.

"Do you need money?"

"I still have enough." I clasped my sun necklace—it had a lapis lazuli stone in the middle of a silver sun—my grandmother had given it to me before she passed away. She'd been the only grandparent I'd met, and it wasn't for long. When I was eight she died from lung cancer. So I didn't remember a lot. Only that she'd left me her necklace—and I cherished it very much.

"A little more perfume." My mom pointed out—I forced down a groan. Whenever I hit myself with perfume it always ended up in my mouth. "Perfect."

It was simple, pretty—it was me. I smiled secretly, pleased with everything. If only the car I was going to show up in became a brand new. Too bad I didn't have a fairy godmother like Cinderella and my mom wouldn't surrender me the keys to her Prius, so, I was stuck.

"What hours are you coming back?" she followed me down the second house level.

"No idea." But I wasn't expecting our little meeting to prolong itself into a nightly thing, so not very late.

"Call me when you know, alright?" though she was happy for me going out for the first time ever with a boy, mom was also worried. It was understandable.

"Will do," I waved at her and ruffled Henry's hair as he opened the door for me. "My, my, what a gentleman you're turning into. Keep it up and you'll be making kissy-lips sooner than me."

He made a spitting sound causing me and mom to laugh. Nigel went out for groceries, too bad he was missing this. He'd crack up.

"Never!" he yelled in a definite hiss.

I shook my head. What a little dork, but I loved him.

"Bye guys." Out of the door I tried not to make an evil face at my car, because frankly, it hadn't left me in the middle of the road yet. That was good.

Pulling out of our house, I drove all the way down Madison Avenue. I drove past school—the parking lot was nearly empty. I kept going, hoping to get the directions right. All the streets looked the same. When I got to the town's square I knew I had to be close—a few minutes longer, maybe five. I drove past the church that seemed to go on forever. It was the biggest edifice around, along with the library three blocks away. Lighthouse was stationed between two populated streets. Houses and shops all lined up. When I arrived near a pub-like building I pulled over into its personal parking lot. The outside was made of red bricks, a heavy wooden roof covered all—and at the very top was a candle-like tower, a flickering light came from there, it kept turning around and around. I guess that was they'd named the place Lighthouse. The inside was cozy, warm and welcoming—it felt safe. There were tables on both levels, ones had chairs that you could move, pull, adjust—whatever—others were in booth form. Then across from the entrance was the bar, complete with stools along it—there was a little stage on the second level. And in a more isolated place were pool tables with well-lit lamps above them. The windows were a little scarce making me feel a bit edgy, I liked thinking I wasn't running out of oxygen. The walls on the inside were made of stone making the place look really rural, the music playing was low.

There were people here from school—they had to be, since there wasn't another high school. My eyes wandered about, darting back and forth, to the front where the bar was—all this because I wanted to find Phillip. We should've exchanged numbers, it occurred to me. If I had his number all I would have to do now was call him, ask him if he was here or not. We should have thought this through—I hit someone when I walked to the side still staring around for the familiar shock of rusty hair.

When I saw two black gems staring down at me I felt all inside me tingle. Then I got a hold of myself, pushing down the strange emerging emotion.

"Oh my God," I muttered under my breath. "Are you everywhere?" I ground in a slight cry. Why couldn't I go somewhere and not run into...

"This is my town, Rapunzel." He lifted the corners of his lips shaping them into a flat irritating smirk. "If you don't like running into me there's only one thing for you to do."

Humoring him, I rolled my eyes asking, "And what would that be, oh wise one?" my voice sounded both sweet and notoriously pissed off.

Cameron's smirk diminished, losing some of the charm—don't ask me how an arrogant smirk could hold charm, but it did.

"You can move." I was open mouthed at the bluntness in his tone—it was raw, low. I wanted to smack him a good one. I really did, but his bones were so perfectly done and so amazingly hard—diamond-hard—I would end up hurting my hand way more than him. "After all, I was already here when you arrived." I couldn't tell if he was talking about Haven Hills or the Lighthouse—probably both.

"Believe me when I say I'd rather be in San Diego." I was ready to walk off from this confrontation; it seemed to lead me nowhere. Only to a bad mood, but then, two things occurred to me. "Have you seen your brother?"

Cam's eyes hardened immediately.

"What do you want with my brother?" geez, paranoid much? Yes.

I tucked a few strands behind an ear; the smell of my own perfume filled my nose.

"We're meeting here." His eyebrow lifted and finally I saw some real, clear emotion cross his face—it was awe. Cameron Leale was in a dumbstruck-awe looking down at me. A sense of fulfillment grew in my chest. "Don't tell me you didn't know?" so I was being a little mean, because Cam took keeping track of Phillip very, very serious. And the fact that he didn't know Phillip was coming here for me? Priceless.

"No, I didn't." Cam turned his head. I took this moment to look around him—there was no one. He was all alone here. How could he be the school's quarterback and not have any friends? Maybe he was a really sucky one. I didn't believe that for one second, though. Cam was all muscles under his clothes, hard, defined muscles. I bet he has those sexy indents on his hips— "The merchandise is good, you can take a picture if you want." My face felt clogged with blood. My eyes had been staring down at his hips, but to anyone who saw me staring... it would look like I was staring at something more private. "I'm used to having girls throw themselves at me, undressing me with their pretty eyes—but you're being a little too obvious. At least try to hide it." The pure look of content plastered on his face made me stumble a step.

"I wasn't... doing anything with my eyes."

"No, you're right. I bet you only need to use that mind of yours." Cam's black eyes came closer, his nose standing in front of mine. "You have a big imagination for someone so... small." He chuckled out the last word silently.

"I don't have a dirty mind." I wanted to grit out the words—but they weren't gritted, they left my mouth in the form of a slow breath. The noise in the background, the people around faded slowly but surely as I gazed straightly into Cam's black on black eyes.

I wondered if humans really had souls, and if we did, could they be stolen? Because Cameron's eyes... they were unlike anything. They were unlike his brother's—Phillip's were blue, vibrant, and undeniably pretty. But these eyes, this gaze... it stole something from me. Was it just from me? And what did it take? I wondered. I didn't know.

"I never said you did."

"But—"

"No, Rapunzel. I didn't use those words. You dug your own grave on that one." He stood straight, towering with his strong body. "So now I know you were imagining things. Dirty things," Looking down, he winked.

I was getting more frustrated by the minute. What was up with this dude? One minute he was trying to run me out of town, the next he was... well, aggravating me to no end but... in a way that could be considered flirting? I did not understand this boy. His mood swings were too complicated for my head. Speaking of mood swings...

I took a step forward, he regarded me steadily.

"Yesterday in school," I began still unaware of everyone that should be around us, wanting to walk through. "At that hallway... right before I went out like a light... I heard something." Cameron tilted his head.

"I take it that's a good sign. It means you're not deaf."

I kept myself cool, as cool as I could be around Cameron.

"I heard you say Phillip was putting people in danger." His face tried to stay blank, he couldn't keep it up, though and I saw the slight nick of unease. I could ask what that had been all about, I could... I knew he wouldn't answer. So I settled for something regarding me. "But that wasn't what I wanted to talk about. You saw me in the other hallway, our eyes locked when you did. And then I..." I fainted. Why? I think something travelled between you and me. What was it? I have no idea. Am I crazy? Probably a little.

Cam kept his posture—he had a perfect standing balance—arms lightly crossed as he pushed back, leaning on the wall.

"Then you what?"

I licked my lips, "I fainted."

He was going to start laughing. He was going to call me a crazy nut job. Heck, we were standing in a public place, even if it felt like no one was around us. It was like we were in a big bubble that made us invisible.

"Because you looked into my eyes?" he said, surprising me with the even tone. He wasn't pointing and laughing. He looked... normal.

"I... I don't know." I fessed up struggling to keep my head from clouding over with feelings that were alien to me. "I don't know." I said again, voice going a tad softer.

I didn't know what I should be more surprised about, the fact that Cameron wasn't running away calling me a freak or the fact that I was having a nice-enough chat with the guy.

Strands of Cameron's fine hair fell to his forehead—he was lowering his head, looking to the ground; hiding his eyes under a curtain of black velvet.

"I don't know what to tell you." I heard him whisper. "I mean," his head lifted fast, the locks of darkness falling away, his lips adapting into a slow grin. "I'm used to getting girls all the time. When they say they fall head over heels for me," he paused, as if letting me know what he was getting at. "I always thought they meant it in a figurative sense." He wasn't laughing on the outside, on the inside, it was different. I would've truly exploded if he hadn't said, "You're here for my little brother? He might be delayed a few minutes. He was dealing with a... situation before I left home. It could get tricky." The amusement no longer filled him, his voice, face or eyes. He was all arrogant and prideful standing in front of me.

I crossed my arms. I should have asked about Phillip next, what was he doing? What was keeping him? I didn't. My timer went off, I exploded.

"You're lucky to have a brother like him. If I was in Phillip's shoes I wouldn't put up with you, I would try and stab you in your sleep. Because you," I pointed a yellow nail at him. His eyebrow cocked. "You are stab-worthy. You're the biggest jerk I've ever met. You're a terrible friend and from what I've heard a horrible boyfriend." I should have stopped there. Enough was enough, especially when my voice grew louder by the second, and something kept stirring deep within, something strong—tiny shocks seemed to jump over my skin. None of this made me stop from saying what I said next. "You're a terrible person and I want you to stay the hell away from me!" My mother had told me to keep away from people who I thought were bad. There. But the moment I finished my raging-rant was the minute everyone, every sound returned. Our invisibility bubbled popped.

Everyone—with no exceptions—was looking at me. From me to Cameron. It was like time had stopped, no one moved, talked, even the music seemed to have quieted its volume. God, what had I done?

"Nice show." He had the audacity of saying. When my eyes fell on him, I clenched my jaw. Those night sky eyes glowered deeply, shaking with... anger. Was that anger for me? Definitely, who else would he be angry at? "You really did strike me as the good girl type. There goes that theory." He kept lounging against the wall, eyes not on me but on the door—there was a guy who arrived.

He wasn't as tall as the twins, but he had a well conditioned body. His hair was sleeked and brown. I'd seen him around the jock table. He wore a football jacket belonging to our school it was black and red, he was shorter than the—red and black? I froze my eyes solemnly on the jacket. Flashes from what I'd seen in my dream played fast, I heard the cheers and saw a whirlwind of colors. Those two colors. But nothing was clear, I couldn't make out anything else.

My heart rate picked up when he came closer—it wasn't because of him. It was the colors; it was like they would swallow me up if I let them get close enough.

Cam detached from the wall then. Many people were looking at me still, or whispering. I didn't care, not at this second, but later...

"Let's go somewhere else." The brown haired guy perked an eyebrow.

"I just got here, man." He put a hand to Cam's shoulder, his hazel eyes looking beyond him to me. "Plus, aren't you going to introduce me to your new friend?"

The twin smacked the hand away.

"We're not friends." Cameron sounded gruff and I bet he looked it, too.

The jock grinned, "You're not? Even better, I'll introduce myself." He made to walk past the older Leale. "What's your problem?" he ground out.

In a flash Cam had pushed his... huh... were they friends? Well, anyway, he'd pushed his teammate to the side making him stumble helplessly. All I'd seen Cameron do, though, was press the palm of his hand to his chest. Was he really that strong? The other guy wasn't weak looking, not by any standards. So...

Cam stood tall, not shaken by the looks he was getting—again.

"I think you make her nervous. So, leave her alone, Daren." I blinked staring at Cameron's leather-clad back.

Daren let the bulking eyes fall, as well as the tight line of his lips. He smirked and I swear, it was meant to tick Cameron off.

"I thought you weren't friends with her." He stepped forward, arms crossing slowly, gaze fixed on Cam's face.

"She's not, but she's Phillip's." Oh, so now me and Phillip got the friend-label? I thought he was epically against me being near him—both of them.

When Daren's hazel eyes slid to me one final time, I shivered. Cameron could keep him away from me all he wanted—I wouldn't mind. I didn't like to feel like a specimen under a microscope. It felt wrong being stared that way, it was a hungry, devouring gaze—he was picturing me naked. Could this day become anymore embarrassing?

"Phillip always knew how to pick his friends." Daren's voice slurred suggestively, appreciation peeking out. What was that supposed to mean? "Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere that's not here." Daren sunk his shoulders looking around, then he mumbled a 'whatever' leaving out the door.

I thought Cameron would go with him right away, saying nothing, sparing me no look—he looked to me over his shoulder.

"What was that about?" why didn't Cameron let that guy get near me?

"Nothing to worry about."