Chapter One: The Inseparable Duo

The airport can be an overwhelming place, even more so as Cameron waited for Willow to appear. The bustling terminal was a whirlwind of activity: travellers hurrying to their gates, families reuniting with tearful embraces, and the constant murmur of announcements echoing overhead. Cameron’s eyes darted to each new face emerging from the arrivals gate, his heart pounding louder with each passing second. He could almost hear Willow’s teasing voice chiding him for being such a worrywart. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, cursing himself for feeling so anxious. It’s just Willow, he reminded himself. But the thought of seeing her in person after all this time made his breath hitch. What if she missed her flight? Or landed at the wrong airport? He checked his watch for the third time in as many minutes, the anticipation knotting his stomach. 

They had been best friends since the age of three when Willow and her family moved in next door in Chicago. The years had been filled with shared adventures, whispered secrets, and a bond that had only grown stronger with time. As Cameron stood among the throngs of travellers, he felt his palms grow sweaty. He checked his watch for the third time in as many minutes, his heart racing. What if she had landed at another airport? Or not made her flight? Or— 

“Hey, jackass!” Willow's voice cut through the noise, sharp and familiar. Cameron’s head snapped around, his heart surging with relief as he spotted her. Her voice, that perfect blend of mock irritation and genuine affection, was like a balm to his frayed nerves. There she was. Thank God. Her signature dark curls were framed around her face like a halo. Her soft brown eyes sparkled with mischief, as her plump lips pulled into a bright smile. Cameron felt his own goofy grin spread across his face as he stepped forward and picked her up, ignoring the curious—semi-judgmental looks of the people in the surrounding crowd around them as he swung her.

When he put her down, he didn’t step back. He simply kept staring, as if trying to comprehend that she was really there. Her hair was a little longer, her face a touch more mature, but her eyes, those twinkling, mischievous eyes, were the same. How long had it been since he’d last seen those eyes in person? Nine months? Eleven months? The memories flooded back—late-night talks, shared dreams, and that night on July 4th that still lingered in his mind. He sometimes wondered if she ever thought about that night.

“Look at you…you look different,” Cameron said, his voice tinged with awe.

Willow scoffed while rolling her eyes, shoving him playfully but pulling him back, smiling. “I look the same. So do you.”

“No, you look different…why do you look different?” Cameron asked, feeling a strange mixture of nostalgia and curiosity.

“Oh, stop. Come on, take me to drop off my bags. I want to get the full-on touristy experience,” Willow said, her excitement infectious.

“Is that so?” Cameron said.

“Yep.” Her eyes glittered mischievously. “And you’re going to do a good job of it or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know…come on, let’s go.”

“Aye-aye captain.” And with a dramatic right-handed salute, he moved to pick up her bags, his eyes widening as he felt the weight of all three of them. “Good lord, woman, what did you pack?”

Looking up from her phone, Willow frowned as if confused by the question. “Not much, just the essentials…”

“Essentials? Entire ensuites are ‘essentials’ now?”

“Oh, stop it, you big bear. Show me ‘your city’.”

“You know, it would be a lot more appealing and far less sarcastic if you didn’t use the air quotes,” Cameron said.

“Really? Huh. Guess I should ‘work’ on that then.”

“That one didn’t even make sense.”

“You’re less annoying over the phone and internet, you know?”

“Really? Huh. Guess I should ‘work’ on that then.”

The giggle that was freed from her was a delight to his ears. “Come on, let’s go.”

As they walked to the car, Cameron couldn’t help but steal glances at Willow. It felt surreal to have her here in New York, so far from their shared roots in Chicago. He remembered the day he had told her about his acceptance to Juilliard, the pride in her eyes, mixed with a hint of something else he couldn’t quite place. They had celebrated that night, both aware of the unspoken shift in their relationship, though neither dared to address it directly. The memory of their almost-kiss lingered in his mind, an unresolved tension that had simmered beneath the surface ever since.

The drive was reminiscent of every car ride they ever took in Chicago. Arguing over the choice of music, arguing about where to eat, and arguing about who was right. She won every round. But he fought valiantly. 

“Why do you hate my music?” Cameron asked, trying to keep the mood light.

“Why do you hate good sense?” Willow retorted, grinning.

“It’s good sense to hate my music?”

“Well, it isn’t bad sense, cowboy.” 

“Are you saying Johnny Cash isn’t good music?” 

“I’m saying Johnny Cash is nice if you like that sort of thing, but not everybody does, therefore everybody shouldn’t be forced to listen to it.”

“It’s my car, the choice of music should be mine. Besides, you like ‘Hurt’.”

“Everybody likes ‘Hurt’, it’s a beautiful song. It, however, doesn’t change my stance on the matter.”

“So, it’s fine for you to hijack my car’s playlist, but I can’t play any of mine?”

“Basically.”

“So, Beyoncé—”

“Don’t you even dare! If you start with the queen, we’re fighting – and we both know who’s going to win.”

“Wait so you can—” 

“Yes, I can. Don’t start with Beyoncé. Do you remember the great fight of ‘09?”

Cameron groaned at the memory. “Of course, I do. It was right in-between the great fights of ‘08 and ‘10.”

“So, what are the rules?”

“‘Don’t talk smack, because I don’t know jack.’” He repeated obediently despite rolling his eyes.

“Good boy.” 

“I hate when you call me that.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You don’t know...”

“Yeah. I do.”

Before he could respond, he realized he was pulling into his building’s carpark.

Willow peered forward to look out of the windshield at the tall buildings ahead of her. “Is this it?” 

“Nah, I just thought it’d be nice to park in a secluded carpark. I’ve been thinking of testing out the murder game lately. I’m thinking, you’d make a decent first victim,” Cameron said.

“Decent?” She bristled. “New York has made you mean.”

“I’ve always been mean; I just never get a chance to shine around you.”

A smile broke past even as she fought it, then she just sighed. “Isn’t that the truth.”

They made their way up to his apartment, the elevator ride filled with the usual banter and the comfort of familiarity. As they stepped out, Cameron hesitated for a moment, a hint of embarrassment creeping in. His stomach twisted as he thought of the state of his apartment.

“Don’t judge my place,” Cameron said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Like I would,” Willow replied.

“Like you wouldn’t. I have roommates, they’re messy, and I refuse to play their mother.”

“I don’t care about a little mess, I mean—”

Her sentence ended abruptly upon him opening the door and ushering her in. A wave of stale air hit them, a mix of take-out food, unwashed laundry, and something Cameron couldn’t quite identify. Willow’s eyes widened in shock, her nose wrinkling as she took in the chaos. Empty pizza boxes lay strewn across the floor, dirty clothes piled high on the couch, and the distinct smell of something rotting emanated from the kitchen. Cameron winced, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. He’d been so caught up with rehearsals and classes that he hadn’t noticed the gradual descent into chaos. He hadn’t realized it had gotten this bad.

“Holy—Jesus Cam! Who lives here? Raccoons?” Willow’s voice rose an octave, her eyes wide with disbelief. She gingerly picked up an empty pizza box from the couch, her fingers brushing against crumbs and grease stains. “This place is a disaster!” she exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Hey! I said don’t judge,” Cameron said, wincing at the mess. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, avoiding her gaze.

“How can I not? How do you live like this?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, her tone a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“This place wishes it was a hovel. A hovel would be cleaner.”

Her eyes almost bugged out as they scanned from left to right over the stacks of take-out boxes, various discarded items of clothing, books, and smoking paraphernalia. She gingerly picked up an empty pizza box from the couch, her fingers brushing against crumbs and grease stains.

“I don’t know if I can stay here. Take me to a hotel,” Willow said, trying to mask her shock with a smile.

“You got hotel money?”

“Fine. A motel then.”

“You got motel money?”

“This place has changed you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, let me show you your room.”

“It has a bed, right? It’s not just a mattress in the corner, surrounded by needles and broken bottles?”

“I don’t live in a crack den.”

She wrinkled her nose in the way he always found endearing, despite himself. “How can you tell?”

“Shut up.”

She smiled as she playfully shoved him before dragging him closer again. The room he showed her wasn’t much, but it was at least cleaner than the common areas. She dropped her bags and looked around, nodding approvingly.

“This is...okay. I can work with this,” Willow said.

“High praise,” Cameron smirked. “Alright, let’s get you settled in and then we can hit the city.”

As they headed out, she linked her arm through his, a gesture so familiar yet charged with unspoken emotions. Cameron felt a warmth spread through him, a reminder of how deeply they were connected. The city awaited them, but it was the shared history, the memories of Chicago, the unspoken words, and the tension between them that loomed larger. Cameron had moved to New York from Chicago on an acting scholarship to Juilliard, while Willow had moved to LA to attend USC's Thornton School of Music. They had shared countless moments together within their lives and formed a deep connection that people around them could never fully understand. It was the night before Cameron left for New York that hung between them the most, an unspoken shift that neither dared to address directly. Despite this, their bond had never shifted. They'd continued living their lives as best friends, always connected and always inseparable, no matter the distance. The streets of New York would serve as the backdrop for rekindling their connection, and maybe, just maybe, finally addressing the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for years.

The day was a whirlwind of activity. They visited the usual tourist spots—Times Square, Central Park, the Statue of Liberty—and even managed to squeeze in a Broadway show. They laughed, argued, reminisced, and through it all, the underlying current of unspoken affection grew stronger.

Later that evening, as they sat at a small, cozy café in Greenwich Village, sipping their drinks, the conversation took a deeper turn. 

Willow looked down at her cup, tracing the rim with her finger, then looked up at him again. Her expression was more serious than he’d seen all day. “Do you ever miss home? I mean, this is the first time we haven't spent every day together. That's crazy, right? Like super co-dependent...” Her voice trailed off, uncertainty creeping in.

Cameron paused, his breath catching slightly. He hadn’t expected the conversation to take such a serious turn. “Every day,” he admitted softly. “I miss Chicago, and I miss us. This place is amazing, but it's not home without you.” The weight of his words hung between them; the truth he had kept buried finally finding its voice.

Willow's fingers drummed lightly on the table, her eyes never leaving his. “We’ll figure it out,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cameron nodded, his heart thudding in his chest. Feeling a pang of longing not just for Chicago, but for the ease of their old routines. How had they managed to drift so far apart without realizing it? He wondered if she felt the same way. He could feel the weight of unspoken words between them, but for now, the comfort of her presence was enough. “Yeah, we will,” he said, leaning forward to squeeze her hand. But he couldn’t shake the nagging doubt—how long could they keep pretending everything was the same?

As the night deepened and the city lights sparkled outside, Cameron couldn't shake the thoughts plaguing him. His time at Juilliard was becoming more demanding, requiring more of him every day, and Willow's life back in LA was equally as consuming. How long could they keep ignoring the things they were so determined not to see before one of them got hurt? How long before their lives on two different coasts pulled them in opposite directions? Or worse, pulled them apart?

Willow's eyes met his, and for a moment, the playful banter fell away, leaving an intense silence between them. “Cam, what if...what if things start changing too much? I mean, quicker than we can keep up with,” she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cameron reached out, his hand covering hers. “We’ll face it together,” he promised, though uncertainty gnawed at the edges of his resolve.

The unspoken fears hung in the air, a reminder that even the strongest bonds could be tested. Cameron squeezed Willow’s hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against his, anchoring him. They had faced so much together—could they really navigate this new chapter apart? But for now, they had each other, and that was enough. For tonight, they could pretend that the miles and the years hadn’t changed anything, that they were still the inseparable duo from Chicago.

End of Extract: