It Meant Nothing

Two

Maxx

  Waking up alone is always the worst thing about having sex with someone.

  I never wanted this. I didn't want to have random sex only when it was convenient to him. I wanted someone to love me and cuddle with me, someone who wouldn't leave me like everyone else had. Someone who wouldn't treat me like their own personal whore. Why did Cody just leave me here to rot every morning? I curled in on myself, feeling the tears start to build up again, but I refused to cry over him again. Sitting up, I checked the time before pulling a pair of boxers on. It was a little passed noon, so I knew that my dad had left for work already.
  As I waited for my waffles to finish in the toaster, I pulled out my phone and texted Cody to make sure last night wasn't just another dream.
  After our very short conversation, I set my phone on the counter and ate before going back up to my room, grabbing some clean clothes. I made my way to the bathroom to take a shower. Once I was in, I felt the warm water wash away the sweaty sex smell from my body, and when I finished cleaning myself, I curled into a ball on the floor of the tub. The water drenched me as I hugged my knees to my chest, and I could feel the tears building up. No. I refused to accept that I was crying over Cody fucking Carson. The douchebag didn't deserve my tears. I'd only slept with him, like, ten times? Twelve? I could've just told him no whenever he called, but then he'd never talk to me, and I was too attached to him at that point to do that.

  I was gaining feelings towards him, and I hated it. His eyes were so pretty, his smile was contagious, his moans were pretty damn hot, but he was such an asshole.Why wouldn't he just come to terms with his sexuality and tell his douchey friends to fuck off?  The only thing he probably liked about me, if anything, was my small, almost feminine body. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he could be all happy and walk away nonchalantly while I had to feel my heart rip apart everytime I woke up, and he wasn't there.
 
 

My chest ached, and my lungs burned from hyperventilating. I forced myself to take a deep breath. Why did he have to have this effect on me? Why? Why did he have to choose me out of all the people at that party that night? Why did he always come back just to leave me again? I wished he knew how shitty he made me feel.

  The water started to become cold, so I splashed my face a bit before turning the water off and getting out. I dried off, got dressed, and brushed my hair before going back to my bedroom and grabbing my camera off my bed. The same bed we always shared all those nights. Sometimes we were both drunk. Other times, it was just him, or he'd be on some drug. I never really got involved with that type of stuff at parties. I just stuck to vodka and whiskey and anything else that could get me drunk quickly. Why did I have to be so stupid that night? He was known for doing this to people, sure it was with girls, and they were free to tell anyone and everyone, but he made me feel like a worthless slut, and you know what, walking outside and into my backyard, I realized that maybe I was one.