XYXX (Camren)

Chapter 11

He found himself in front of Ariana’s house a little while later, his finger lingering over the doorbell. When he finally found the courage to press down on it, he was surprised that the door swung open a few seconds after. She looked composed, although her puffy, red eyes and gray traces of mascara down her cheek said otherwise. The inside of the house was dark, and there was no sign of anyone being there.

“How did you get past security?” Ariana asked, trying to hide signs of her distress.

“That security?” He asked, pointing back to the sleeping guard at the gate.

“Fucking Jameson.”

“Can I come in? We should talk.”

“I’d rather you not.” Ariana mumbled, averting her eyes from him. “I have things to do and I can smell the alcohol on you. I don’t want to have a conversation you won’t remember tomorrow.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He clarified, trying to catch her gaze. “I’m just a little bit tipsy, I can talk and remember.”

“Shouldn’t you be with Vero?” Ariana asked, although her accusation turned weak at the end of the sentence.

“Why should I be with Vero?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you mad at me?”

She was quiet.

“Why are you mad at me? She’s just my friend, nothing more.”

 “I don’t know! I just don’t like it!” She finally exclaimed as her voice cracked with the words.

“I didn’t mean to –“

“Wait, listen – If I don’t say this now, I’ll never be able to, okay? Look, I know I don’t have the right to feel like this. I – I mean, I know I’m not your girlfriend and you’re probably not the type to like labels and stuff, but I just – I don’t like it, you know?” Her voice fell to a whisper, her gaze fluttering to the ground. “I just don’t like wondering if you’re kissing some other girl, or if your heart does that weird thing mine does whenever I’m near you, or if you know that every time I sing I wonder if you’re thinking of me like I’m thinking of you.”

She paused and took a deep breath before looking him in the eyes.

“And I know this is unfair because you’re, like, super drunk but I don’t think I could say this to you any other time. Which is so stupid because I’m usually so straight-forward but it’s really hard, you know, flirting with you. I can’t even send texts without staring at them for a good hour. And this is really getting ridiculous and I felt, like, actually torn up when you told me you came from some girl’s house, and I’m not the super possessive type, I’m really not, but I can’t help feeling jealous because I don’t even have you. Because there’s no guarantee that you like me too, that I’m yours or you’re mine. So I just want to know right now if this isn’t worth wishing about or thinking about because it’ll never happen, or if you want me, because I so, so want you and I want you to want me too.”

The silence after her words knocked him back into reality.

“Okay.” He said, looking down at her with a childlike expression on his face.

She returned a confused and flushed frown and he couldn’t help but feel his heart pick up at the sight. The words she was saying, as alcohol-mudded as his mind might’ve been, touched something inside of him that he hadn’t tried to pluck at for so long. These were words that he thought he’d read somewhere, seen somewhere, maybe felt somewhere – words that he’d maybe wanted to say before, wanted to hear before. It was all so confusing but all he knew was that he wanted to cry or kiss someone but he was all cried out so he went with the latter.