"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Mitch calls after me, his hand resting on the car door handle.
"I'll be fine," I respond, forcing a smile and opening the door to my house.
I turn back to Mitch, watching him slide into the car seat. His eyes meet mine and I sigh in despair.
While striding into my empty home and pacing up the steps, I reach my bedroom.
I deliberately fall to my bed, pushing all the thoughts I've been trying to let go of behind me.
I scan the room, pictures of Max and I surrounding me, causing nostalgic memories to arise into my head.
The tears fall once again and I knew the weeping wouldn't stop this time.
"Camille?" A voice beams from the hallway.
Someone turns the corner, and in that moment I didn't care if it was a murderer here to kill me; someone might as well do it before I let myself.
"Oh my, why are you--is this still about Max?"
I lift my face from the tear-stained pillow to catch a look at who has been speaking to me.
"Jordan?" My face scrunches up in confusion, "why are you here?"
"Max told me you guys broke up and I wanted to see how you were doing," Jordan answers, his face full of sympathy.
"I'm doing just fine," I answer, wiping the tears from my numb face.
Jordan sighs, his eyebrows arching, "the mascara dripping down your cheeks makes that obvious."
I take a deep breath, "is that supposed to be sarcasm?"
He walks over to me, sitting beside me on my bed and engulfing me into a bear hug, "indeed."
"You know camille," Jordan pauses, "Max wouldn't speak to me, he didn't seem in the best mood either."
"I tried calling him," I pause, "but I just couldn't do it."
He bites his lip, "movie?"
I nod, "I'd like that."
Jordan lifts himself from the bed, "then how about you wipe that mascara off your pretty face and get into something comfortable--I'll meet you on the sofa in 20."
"Okay," I reply, a smile forming on my lips.
I watch Jordan leave my room and trudge downstairs, as I walk over to the sink and splash my face with water . . . in hopes of the mascara vanishing.
I pat down my naked face with a towel, admiring how it looked without makeup on.
I walk back into my closet, roaming over all my oversized t-shirts and sweatpants.
I decide on picking out a tie-dye tee with Capri legging, then I twist my hair into a messy bun and slip on my favorite neon cat socks.
When I reach the bottom step of the staircase, I notice Jordan already staring at me.
"Did you pick a movie?" I ask, plopping down beside him on the couch.
"A couple," Jordan replies, showing me every possibility, "it's up to you to decide."
I nod, "how about we watch--" I pause unknowingly, "Tangled."
"Tangled?" Jordan repeats, slight disgust in his tone.
"Oh come on, it's Disney!" I answer, slumping back on the pillow.
"Alright--fine, but only because it's your house."
I smile, clicking the play button and shifting my weight onto Jordan's shoulder.
♡ ♡ ♡
"Mhm--yeah . . . That's perfect," I mumble into the phone, my attention fading into the tv screen.
"Oh yeah, definitely--" I continue, a bored expression plastered onto my makeup-less face.
"Don't worry, I'll pick up everything you need and bring it to your house . . . Yeah--okay well I have to go, someone else is calling," I hang up the call, groaning. I had to go to the supermarket to pick up food for the party tonight.
I grip the remote, shutting the television off, and stretching my way out from the couch. I was kinda in that 'I don't give a fuck' type attitude this morning; at least that's what I thought.
I trudge up to my room, knowing I was going to have to get dressed today.
My eyes skim over another photo of Max and I, and quickly I flick it face-down on the tabletop. I didn't need any of this bullshit today.
While yawning, I slide open my closet, my fingers floating over every article of clothing.
I pull out distressed jeans and a floral midriff crop-top, followed by a statement necklace and white high-top converse.
I quickly slip the clothing on, then highlight my face with a fair amount of makeup.
I smile at my reflection in the mirror, I was ready to take ahold of today.
♡ ♡ ♡
I knock on the 3 story mansion, butterflies twisting the insides of my stomach.
"Hey," a blonde-haired guy with emerald eyes greets me. He had no shirt on, showing off his faultless 6-pack. I skim over his body, noticing he was only wearing a pair of navy blue boxers.
"Hey," I pause, my eyebrows furrowing in both disgust and confusion. Who'd you just have sex with?
"I have the food for the party?" I respond, somewhat lifting the grocery bags in my hand.
"Oh--yeah that's cool," the guy answers as his eyes wander past my face, to my chest, then at my exposed stomach.
"Can I come inside?" I reply rudely, starting to get impatient with this dumbass.
He opens the door further, motioning me to slide inside. I walk in, admiring the emptiness of the gleaming house.
"So, who are you again?" He asks, slightly confused, a hand ruffling his already messy hair.
I smugly smile, "don't worry, I'm not one of the girls you've had a one night stand with."
He sighs deeply, relief escaping his body, "then why are you here?"
I set my bags down on the ivory sofa, "my cousin is your 'roommate' and he asked me pick up food for the party . . . as I did."
He nods, "I'm uh--Luke."
"Camille," I introduce, not bothering to shake his hand.
"Do I have to worry about any inebriated prostitutes coming down the steps looking for you later today?" I concededly ask, turning around to face him.
"Is that really all you think of me?" He replies, his eyes piercing into mine.
"Pretty much," I repeat, my hands folding to my waist.
"You don't have to worry about anything," he answers, grabbing a shirt from the back of a chair and slipping it over his model abs.
I smile, starting to strut into the kitchen, "that's just great."