Roadtrip

Day Seven

Well, it's been a whiiiiiiile....

Song on the side: "Weightless" by All Time Low.

Dedicated to my best friend cause she's been waiting for this chapter for a looooong time <3

Unedited..

~ENJOY~

Day Seven  

When I opened my eyes the next morning, I felt some kind of unfamiliar warmth surrounding my body. I carefully tried to move but my effort was brutally interrupted by the wave of piercing pain that roamed my body. I, then, remembered Cameron and our journey to the ranch but I barely had a vague recollection of what happened after I fell. And if it's not obvious yet, I don't function without a decent amount of coffee.

  I slowly untangled Cameron's body from mine, desperately trying to get rid of the weird feeling that had made its way to the pits of my stomach. It was miles away from bubbly butterflies or killer bees or whatever else you get when you're close to someone special, but I still loathed it.

  I examined my figure in the mirror happily realizing that I didn't have any open wounds left; they were almost starting to heal. However, the purple-ish bruise on my arm was not likely to leave anytime soon. I ran my fingertips over it and flinched- hell, it hurt.

  Letting out some muffled sounds of pain, I quickly stepped out of the dress I was wearing and changed in a t-shirt that reached my thighs- it clearly belonged to Cameron. I grabbed my combat boots and tiptoed out of the room. I put them on and made my way to the bar. I ordered some coffee and took a seat close to the window. I soon regretted it, though. I was half-naked and the weather was getting colder second by second. 

  I quickly downed my tasteless coffee -someone should fire the barrista wannabe there- and stood up, wanting to go back to the room and get some pants. Once again, my plan was ruined because of a running Cameron who had our bags over his shoulder and shouted "We're leaving" before disappearing. 

Okay, I guess...

  I made my way out of the hotel and searched for him and the car whose owner was still unknown. When I spotted him, I walked towards him. I got in the car and slammed the door. 

"Grumpy much?" he asked raising an eyebrow and turned the engine on.

I gave him a flat look through the mirror. "Okay, Shaw, we are we on the run again? Is someone after you, cause if that's the case-"

"Lemme see. You drink to the point of not knowing whether you've killed someone or not, you paint walls with those pathetic graffiti-makers/ weed-smokers you call your friends when they don't even like you and you steal Brent's car every two weeks to drive with no license. Now, tell me again, why between the two of us someone would be after me?"

"They are not my friends," I growled even though his tone was was clearly playful.

"Okay, angelface," he said smirking.

"You didn't just call me- oh, nevermind," I sighed before concentrating to the screen of my i-pod. 

  Thank God I didn't miss his "Nice panties" remark before the music blasted and I shut my legs.

  He drove back to the well-known beach we had left two days ago. He brought some cookies from the cafeteria nearby and then disappeared to take a phonecall.

  I stared at his back as he walked away until I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. One week alone with Cameron Dickhead Shaw and I was losing it. And yes, the nickname is really mature, I know.