Kith never thought that her senior year of high school would be spent in a frat house, especially the frat house of her ex-best friend's, douchey, irresponsible older brother, Cameron. She'd fantasized about going to college since middle school, but...
"I didn't trick you," shrugging, she took a slow sip. "You were drunk, Cameron, ridiculously so. I could've gotten you to jump off a bridge if I'd wanted."
"You manipulated me," he stuck to that defense.
"You wanted it," rolling her eyes, she scoffed. "Everyone knows that you're not getting any from that pregnant-"
"Don't," cutting her off, he held up a hand. Cameron knew exactly what she wanted to say. "Everyone's right. You are fucking insane, Heather. I don't even know what to say right now. Stay away from me, okay? I don't want anything else to do with you."
"Guess who didn't use a condom last night?"
Halfway to the door, he stopped, dead.
That wasn't true. That couldn't be true. He'd never been incoherent enough to do that, and he'd had some pretty drunken one night stands. No. No, no, no, no, no. There was no way in hell that was accurate. That emptiness, that vast guilt, returned to his stomach. No way. He was prepared to literally throw himself in front of a bus if he got Heather, of all girls in the world, pregnant. Swallowing, he maintained his outwardly unruffled reserve and shook his head, refusing to believe anything coming out of her mouth. Her words were bullets, designed to maim targets and even innocent bystanders. Cameron was done. This wasn't happening again.
"I wouldn't have a kid with you if somebody paid me," he said sharply, stalking down the hallway.
Thundering down the stairs, he ignored the looks of some of the girls in the house and burst outside. Thankful for his hoodie, he shook his head and mentally beat himself. Worst mistake of my life, he thought. He needed a shower. Maybe if Kith couldn't smell her, she wouldn't know. Maybe she was still annoyed with him, so she wouldn't ask any questions about his whereabouts. Cameron didn't want to say anything. He was willing to do almost anything instead of tell her.
Entering the house, he slammed the door shut and jogged upstairs. Without bothering to check if she was in his room, he barged in and just stood there as she looked up from the bed. Kith didn't look surprised to see him. She didn't look ready to start some sort of investigation. Swallowing, he tapped his fingers against the wood of his doorway. They stared at one another, like two deer who'd stumbled upon each other in the forest. Overcome with a lack of explanation, Cameron wondered what he looked like through her eyes.
"Need to get a shower," grabbing the necessary things, he all but ran from the room and disappeared into one of the closet-sized shower stalls. Kith didn't know. He said that to himself over and over as warm water raced down his shoulders and over his head. Kith didn't know; how the hell would she? He'd come home, fully dressed. He could've been out-not having sex with someone. No one in the house had better said anything to her if they had actually witnessed his departure last night. Paranoia and anxiety flooded his veins, making it impossible to stand still for more than a few seconds. "Goddammit, man...."
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