Confessions Of A Teenage Party Animal (Editing.)

4- don't want to be in certain places.

Camille's POV

The coffee shop was quiet, and I was lost in thought about how to anger the Romans. I wanted to show them that I was better than their mediocre soccer team. Cyrus interrupted my thoughts, "You better get up." I rolled my eyes and replied, "The only reason I'm not insulting you is because we're at work, and work should be a safe place."

As I leaned on the counter, I suddenly remembered something I wanted to ask him. "Hey, did you give your friend my number?" I asked while still leaning on the counter. "Oh, yeah, he asked for it so he could apologize-" Cyrus started to reply.

"He didn't exactly do that," I interrupted. "He has a habit of doing that..." Cyrus sighed. I laughed, "Yeah, I've noticed." We continued working in silence after that.

The rest of the shift flew by, and before I knew it, I was closing up the coffee shop and crossing the road to the bus stop. The bus stop was empty, except for a few people who were waiting there. I stood there, waiting for the bus to arrive, lost in thought about Lana.

Lana's POV

I was frustrated with my parents. They didn't understand my busy schedule, which included football, figure skating, and school. "No," I said sternly, trying to keep my composure. My dad stared at me, not showing a hint of bluffing. "You don't get to decide that," he said firmly.

"But I have football and figure skating, plus school," I reasoned with them. "Yes, going out to god knows where, and coming home drunk every night is a busy schedule," my mother shot sarcastically.

"I don't want a job," I said, feeling frustrated. "We don't even need the money -"

"Misliš da je ovo zbog novca? Stvarno sam te odgojio s previše," my dad spat, raising his voice slightly. I looked down at my hands, not saying anything. "Naš novac vam ne dopušta da budete nepromišljeni i glupi!" he shouted.

"Ok," I said, not wanting to argue anymore. I ran up to my room so my parents wouldn't see me cry. I grabbed my phone off my desk and started searching for a job. If my parents wanted me to find a job myself, I would just have to go lower.

The next morning, I woke up with a determined feeling. I got ready quickly and ate breakfast with my sister, ignoring her snarky comments. "Job interview," I said, hoping to avoid any more arguments.

I quickly slipped on my black Converse, grabbed my keys from the key holder, and headed out the door. I drove for a few minutes until I reached the small bookshop. I had never noticed it before, even though I had driven and walked past the street more than a thousand times.

I stared at the bookshop for a bit more before finally climbing out of my car and shutting the door. I walked quickly to the door to avoid the sun burning my skin in a not attractive way. I hate Florida's summer. I opened the door to the store, and a little bell clinked.

The store was small from the inside, just like the outside. It had bookshelves crammed into every corner and some stray books lying on the floors and tables. The lights were dim but in a homely way. I scanned the shop relatively fast and spotted the front desk, not expecting who sat there. My eyes widened in surprise as I realized who sat behind the counter.

It was Camille.

As he read a book, he didn't seem to notice my presence. "Hey," I called out and approached the cash register. I heard a sigh from Camille. "The sappy rom-coms are down the fifth row," he said without looking up from his book.

"I'm here for the interview." Camille seemed to listen to that and put his book down, his eyes widened as he realized who he had been talking to, "What are you doing here?" I stared at him for a few seconds, "I just said, job interview." I said, not bothering to elaborate, "Marcy doesn't interview anyone who applies," He informed me after the shock of seeing the captain of the Westfield's soccer team, "Who?" I asked, confused, "Marcy Marsh, the owner says that we are so understaffed that as long as you have a valid passport, you can work here."

I chuckled, "So I'm hired?" I asked, "I guess, but come in tomorrow to ask Marc about the work shifts." He said, already grabbing his book, I nodded and stood there awkwardly, I had expected more questions and at least an hour of business, "You still there?" Camille asked as I started to feel more awkward, I ignored the question and made my way out of the dimly lit bookstore, I got into my car and drove slowly skimming the streets for any parties.

°.•☆•.°

Some people thought I did drugs.

It wasn't that I was a junkie or looked homeless, they said I just had the energy about me, the mysterious bass-playing rockstar energy about me, and I guess that was fair consistency I did play electric guitar, but that wasn't at all relevant considering I was currently, trying to yank the blonde girl off me.

I had asked her to kiss, but when we started to make out I couldn't shake the feeling that it felt just wrong, I don't think she sensed anything because she continued to eat my face as I silently prayed for it to be over.

When she finally got off me, she gave me a look of disappointment before sauntering odd into the sea of people, I stood in the corner like always just watching everyone doing their thing, the lights were on and there was virtually no music playing, mostly because it was daytime and the neighbors would surely call the cops if even an ounce of music was heard.

So people resorted to talking, and when I say talking, I meant full-on shouting over each other like a bunch of middle schoolers,

"You look miserable." I turned quickly to see Camille standing behind me, holding a glass of wine, "Why the fuck are you everywhere?" I asked pushing myself off the wall I was leaning on, "I'm magic." He said using his hands to make sparkly motions, I sighed in annoyance, and he stared at me for a bit more, before starting to speak again, "You constantly look like you want to die." He said which I annoyed, "And if I do?" I shot a bit angrily, "Same." I sighed in annoyance and walked away from Camille.

This was going to be my coworker for at least the whole summer and maybe even a bit of the school year.

Great.

Throughout the remainder of the kinda-party, I made an effort to steer clear of Camille. But, it was like he possessed some kind of stealthy, elusive ability because no matter where I turned or looked, he always appeared right behind me. It was frustrating.

"Why are you ignoring me, work buddy." He asked as I poured myself another drink, "I can't stand you." I said, not trying to make an effort to hide the annoyance in my tone, "Why'd you get a job at the place I work at then?" Camille said, sounding snarky, "You work literally, everywhere." I said, knowing how I sounded, "I do not work everywhere." He said denying the obvious, to be honest, I didn't understand why he worked so many jobs, he sure as hell didn't need the money, I've met his parents, and if he needed any money his parents would most definitely give it to him, "Why do you work so many jobs anyway?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

"No reason, just get bored at home." He answered, he said, obviously lying "Why are you at virtually every party?" He asked me suddenly, "What is this? Twenty questions?" I shot sarcastically, "I answered you." I sighed, "I just don't want to have to go to the ice rink." I said I had a feeling he was going to ask about that, but I didn't feel like answering and started walking away. This time, Camille didn't follow me. Probably have found someone else to terrorize with his annoying questions.