Chapter 2 #3
“I’ll be quick. Just grabbing my shit. I’ll be in and out, I swear.”
“In and out of the house, Cam, not her. Do not get titmatized.”
“Bo! I thought you knew me better than that!” I clutch my chest in mock offense. “I’m an ass man, okay? Have some respect.” Bo doesn’t laugh, though. His gaze is fixed forward on the house. “What’s wrong?”
“You deserve better, Cam.” The soft tone hugs my heart.
I don’t know what to say or why this keeps happening to me.
I’m tired of hurting. I’m tired of no one getting me.
I’m tired of putting myself out there. Siena said she loved me, but that can’t be true.
You don’t hurt people you love. Right? I don’t know where I always go wrong.
I like to think I’m a pretty good boyfriend.
I throw myself into my relationships, and I give my all to the people I’m with.
It’s great for a month or two, but then .
. . I don’t know. It’s like they all get exhausted.
They want to hang out with me less and less.
I don’t know how to fix it—fix me. I want to be better.
Whatever. I can’t change it now, what’s done is done, so I squeeze his knee. “I love you.”
He slaps my hand away. “I’m giving you ten minutes and then I’m dragging you out of there,” he warns me.
“Thank you.” I smile gratefully. “I can’t go back anyway, even if I wanted to.”
“Why’s that?” he asks absently.
“I’m in a committed relationship with your hand.”
His head whips to face me, eyes hard. “I hate you.”
With a stretch I put my arm over the back of his seat and lean into him. He startles, blinking rapidly at me. “It was brief, but I can tell they knew what they were doing.”
He shoves me away. “Stop it.” But now he giggles and the sound lights me up from the inside out.
“I’m just messing around.” I turn to him, cupping his cheeks.
My eyes search his and there it is . . .
that warm flicker deep in my belly. “Nothing to worry about, Bobo.” I kiss the bridge of his nose.
We’re no strangers to kisses and hugs, but there’s a weight now that wasn’t there before this morning.
A thought pops into my brain telling me to lean into him, but I ignore it and listen to the one telling me to pull away instead. “We’re okay?”
“Yeah, we’re okay.”
“Must have been a really hot guy you were dreaming about,” I tease. “I think my hip is chafed from all the dry humping you were doing.” I laugh, but his mouth pinches and his eyes harden.
“You told me you were asleep.” Fuuucck, I am a dumbass. “How would you know I was humping you?”
Dumb brain. Dumb dumb brain! “I mean—” A flash of red catches my attention and I can honestly say I’ve never been this happy to see Siena storming toward my car. “Shit. Wait here.” I get out and shut the door.
“Where have you been?” Her green eyes look beyond me. “Why am I surprised? You’re so obsessed with him. I’ve been trying to talk to you and you ran right back to him!”
“Oh, my bad. I should have patiently waited for you to get your panties back on!” I yell back, then swallow it.
I’m not this guy. I don’t get angry like this.
She’s not worth it. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“He’s my best friend, of course I went back to his house.
I didn’t fuck a guy in our bed!” Her emerald eyes begin to swim.
Fuck. I hate tears. They’re my kryptonite.
I steel my spine and focus on what I need to do.
“Save it. I just want my stuff and I’m gone. ”
I walk past her to the house, focusing on what I need to do and not the clench of my guts as I relive last night.
I see my laptop on the table and grab it as a soft hand grazes my elbow.
“Baby, please let me explain.” What explanation could she possibly give.
I almost ask her, as if there could ever be a good reason for seeing some other guy eating your girlfriend’s pussy.
“I’m so sorry, Cammy.” She tugs at my shirt, but I wrench out of her grip, careful not to hurt her.
“Where’s my blanket?” It may be a ridiculous thing for a twenty-six-year-old man to say, but my abuela knitted it for me when I was three, and to this day I need it. I wasn’t thinking last night when I walked out without it.
“Your blankie? Are you fucking serious, Cam? Talk to me!”
I throw a cage around my heart, ignoring her rosy nose and welling eyes. “I’m calling Dan in the morning and telling him I’ve moved. Rent’s yours, sweetheart. You can have that dickwad pay for your shit.”
“Camden—” I ignore her as I go to our bedroom, and I almost expect him to be here. Anger rolls over me.
“Why? Huh? Just tell me why!” I don’t want to know almost as much as I do.
“It just happened, okay. I don’t know.”
“That’s it? It just happened. I was good to you, I—”
“Good to me?” She laughs, her anger springing up out of nowhere.
“It’s not like you’re some fucking prize.
Oh my god. I can’t do this. I was trying to be nice.
I feel bad, but fuck it. You’re so annoying.
Is that what you want to hear, Cam? You’re annoying as fuck.
You act like some big-ass child. All you want to do is stay home and watch stupid cartoons—”
“It’s anime and it’s not stupid!”
“Whatever!” she shouts. “You’re so fucking immature.
All you want to do is play video games and watch TV.
I thought shit would be different if we lived together, but it’s worse.
” That’s not . . . Is that all I do? I don’t ever party, that’s never been me.
My perfect nights revolve around a new recipe to try, a TV, and someone by my side.
My mind conjures Bo.
That’s what I want. What I have with Bo, but with my girl. I don’t think that’s unreasonable. “You never had an issue before we moved in,” I say softly. All the things she said are settling into my chest. “Didn’t realize you hated me that much.”
“I don’t hate you.” Her face softens. “You’re a good guy, Cam. You’re hot, great in bed, but it’s just not enough. I thought you’d grow the fuck up if we lived together. If maybe you weren’t . . .” Her lips pinch shut, but I understand loud and clear.
Me.
If I wasn’t me.
She’s right, though. I’m immature, and boring, and not very bright. I don’t know why I ever thought this would work. I feel my lip begin to wobble. Blinking fast, I look over at our bed and find my blanket, and I storm over to it snatch it up. “You better not have fucked on it.”
“Really, Cam! That’s all you can say?”
I bite back the mean things I want to say to her.
I just can’t. I don’t have it in me to be mean.
“We just started living together.” My voice sounds hollow.
I feel hollow. “You could have broken up with me.” Why am I even talking to her?
“We had fun, played, laughed. We had fun. I thought we were solid. You made me believe we were good.”
She looks away, and I want to know who this person is because this sure as shit isn’t the girl I’ve been with for nearly half a year. “I don’t want to be good, Cam. I want my boyfriend to act like a man who wants me. I don’t need another friend.” I look at her, drinking her in for the last time.
Her curly red hair is pulled into a messy bun, the kind I love most, and an oversized shirt stops mid-thigh. Realization hits me. A punch right to the nuts.
That shirt isn’t mine. I’ve never seen it before, but it’s not new. It looks worn . . . slept in.
I feel sick. It’s his shirt, isn’t it?
She’s been waiting for me to get my shit, then she’s going to be with him for the rest of the day. Why did I think this would go anywhere? Part of me wants her to beg for me to stay. Maybe if she acted like losing me hurt just a little I wouldn’t feel this awful. It’s so stupid.
Losing me isn’t painful; it’s a deep breath of relief.
I should know this by now.
My chest breaks open. I need to get out of here.
My fingers bunch in the blanket. It’s baby blue and some of the edges are frayed. Don’t cry. She’s not worth it. Don’t cry. Only it’s my abuela saying this to me and she’s talking about my mother and father. “Don’t let them see you cry, nieto, they’re not worth your tears.”
Most of the time it only made me cry harder. “Cam?” I blink up at her voice. She’s waiting for me to say something, or more likely for me to go.
“I’m calling you really mean names in my head right now. Just so you know. Words that start with B, and C, and Q.”
“Q?” Her brow quirks.
“It’s a new one I just invented, and it’s really fuckin’ bad.”
Her pink lips split into a tiny smile. “As you should.” She leans in and I don’t have the strength to stop her. The floral scent of her perfume floats around me. I used to love it, but now it’s turning my stomach. “I’m sorry, Cam. For what it’s worth, I am.”
I pull away from her, blinking fast and turn toward the door where I scoop up my bag with my clothes inside it. I look quickly and everything’s in there. She packed my shit. She was waiting for me to hurry up and get my stuff.
I walk out, not looking back at her.
My eyes sting worse with every step toward my car, and my throat tightens as I try to swallow and take a big breath. I can’t. I throw my shit in the back then slide into the driver’s side.
“Cam—”
“No. Please.” My throat tightens. I swallow hard, pushing the starter, and I can’t meet Bo’s eyes as I look behind to pull out of her driveway.
I only get a block away before my vision is underwater and I have to pull over, shutting the car off.
I drop my hands into my lap and take a deep gulping breath.
“I’m so sorry.”
I swipe a palm at my eyes. I don’t want to break down right now. I’m so pathetic. “I hate this feeling.” Breakups suck, and I’m always on the bad end of them.
“Her loss, Cam.” It’s not, though. Not even a little.
In fact, she just looked ready to be done with me.
I don’t have any words. His hand wraps around my arm, tugging me to him, and I hold steady, unable to look at him.
Well, that won’t do for my best friend. He slides his body onto my lap to look at me, cramped tight between the steering wheel and my chest. I know he won’t move, so I move my seat back more to give him space.
He feels good in my lap.
“Look at me.” I do, because I can’t help myself when it comes to him.
“You’re allowed to be upset. Don’t try to push it away.
I got you.” That’s when I stop choking back the emotion and let myself crumble, and he hugs me tight as I cry.
While he’s so much smaller than I am, I always feel like he’s my shield.
He keeps all the bad away, and just by having his arms around me I feel a little better—even if I am snotting up the front of his hoodie. My old hoodie.
We sit there like this for a bit until I finally calm down.
“Let me drive,” he says, and it’s probably smart.
He lifts off of me and gets out his side to switch spots with me.
Adjusting my seat and mirrors, Bo drives back toward his house.
“You want to grab some snacks? We can get drinks? We can try a new recipe? Watch Dragon Ball or something. What’s the one you wanted me to watch . . . ghoul something?”
“Tokyo Ghoul.” I look at him. My best friend is literally describing my perfect night, but Siena’s words echo in my brain.
Childish. Immature. Boring.
“We can do whatever you want tonight. We can go out? Maybe to a bar or something.”
“Like . . . in public?” He grimaces. “Why would I want to do that?”
And this, among a thousand other things, is why he’s my best friend. “Let’s go get some snacks. And lots of alcohol. I don’t have to work tomorrow, do you?”
He shakes his head before turning down another road heading toward the store. “I had to work tonight, but I called in when you were in the house.” It’s quiet for a minute. “Are you going to be okay?”
I think for a moment before I nod. “I am. I’m okay. As long as it’s us three, I’ll be fine.”
“Three?”
“You, me, and your very talented hand.”
He blinks at me flatly. “I hate you, Cam. So damn much.”