"How fucking dare you!" I scream in his face and shove past him to our bedroom. Well, just his bedroom now. I'm getting my things and i'm leaving, tonight. I can't even stand to look at his face, let alone be in his presence.
"Venus, please wait," he pleads and grabs for my arm.
I snatch it out of his grip. "Don't fucking touch me Cameron," I spit and barge through the bedroom door. I immediately head for the walk in closet and search around for my black Nike duffel bag. I find it behind a few boxes of shoes and begin ripping my clothes off of the hangers and shoving them in the bag. I'll worry about folding them later on.
He's standing in the doorway of the bedroom when I walk out. I don't look directly at him, I just see him out the corners of my eyes.
I walk over to the dresser and begin pulling out pairs of panties and bras by the handful.
"Shit, V," he rubs his face. "Don't leave, okay?"
I turn around and look him in his watering eyes, his face beginning to turn red.
"Don't you fucking dare do that," I spit to him. "YOU are the one who cheated on ME! You piece of shit! I CANNOT believe you! Three and a half fucking years of my life, and you fucking wasted it." My voice cracks and I feel the tears begin to prick my eyes. Dammit don't do this. Not now, just wait until you get in the car. I refuse to let this bastard see me hurt.
Cameron stays silent as I go back to shoving underwear into my bag. I don't get nearly half of it, but I plan on just coming back when he's out at work or something to get the rest of my things.
I stomp into the bathroom connected to the bedroom and grab my shower gel and hair supplies. I'll get a tooth brush from a convenience store on the way out.
I turn around to take my things into the bedroom and put them away when I nearly collide with Cameron. He's blocking the doorway. I look down at my shoes, not wanting to look directly into his blood shot, crystal blue eyes. Or the tens of tiny freckles covering his baby soft skin. Or those smooth lips. Those smooth lips that lied to me night after night when he told me he was just working late on set. Or he just spontaneously decided to go out to dinner or drinks with his cast mates.
Every single excuse he has told me fires through my head. Every single time he came home later than normal. Hell, any time he was out of the house or I wasn't with him. Was he really at work? Was he really at the grocery store? This is just all too much.
"Move," I mumble just loud enough for him to hear me.
"No," he sniffles.
What?
I look up and meet his red rimmed eyes. He has his fingers shoved in his front pockets and twitches his nose as he sniffles again.
He towers over me by a good six inches and looks slightly intimidating as he is looking down on me.
"I said move, Cameron." I say trying to step past him. He steps to the side and blocks me once again.
"I'm not going to play this game with you, Cameron. Get the fuck out of the way." I say raising my voice.
He doesn't say anything, just continues looking at me like he is clueless.
"Get the fuck out of my way!" I scream at him, fed up that he chooses now of all moments to play these little childish games. I throw my things on the floor and beat on his chest as hard as I can.
"Move!" I scream and hit his hard chest again.
He grabs my wrists and hold my hands there a moment. He looks down at me and I look up at him a moment before he loosens his grip and I pull my hands away.
He steps to the side and I quickly slip past him. We both know I wouldn't be able to get past him on my own.
I walk over to the bed and begin zipping up my duffle bag when I feel two warm arms wrap around my waist as Cameron presses himself against me.
I freeze, not even really able to move much in his grasp anyways.
"Cameron get off of me," I tell him calmly.
"Please don't leave me," He begs in a slight whimper. "Please. Please, please, please, please." He begs.
He rests his head on my shoulder and tightens his grip around my waist.
"Please don't go. Please? Can we just talk about it?" He pleads.
I pull his arms from around me and he stands upright.
He takes a step back, giving me enough room to turn around and face him.
"Yeah, we can talk about it." I say and run my fingers through my hair once again.
He smiles, hope shining through on his face. I wouldn't be so happy if I were him. Let's not forget he just admitted to cheating on me.
I grab my bag and haul it onto my shoulder and head towards the door.
"Wait wait, where are you going? I thought we were gonna talk." He follows after me.
I stop and turn slightly to face him.
"Oh yeah we can talk, but i'm not staying here. Especially not with you." I say rather calmly.
He gives a hurt expression but I really don't care. The way I feel right now? He has never experienced anything like this, and this little guilt shit he's feeling is nothing. I wanna smash his face in right now, but I like it too much. I love it too much. I love him too much. Even though he destroyed our relationship. A part of me wishes he wouldn't even have said anything to me about it. Just let me be clueless and in love with him for the rest of my life. But guilt is obviously a mother fucker.
He follows behind me down the steps and into the living room. I grab my black wind breaker off of the couch and head for the front door. He takes a few steps and open the front door for me with a half smile.
I stare up at him but walk through it. Don't push your luck Cameron.
I fish my keys out of my back pocket and unlock the trunk to my black, two door jeep wrangler. I set my bag down into the trunk and shut the door. I have half a mind to just jump in the driver seat, but something about Cameron standing in what used to be our front door just does something to me. Those red eyes and pink nose make me feel almost sorry for him. What the fuck is that? I feel sorry for him for cheating on me? Love is stupid.
I click the doors back locked and head back up the driveway towards the front door. I don't wanna see him watching me so I keep my gaze low.
I finally reach the porch, walk through the door, and he shuts it behind me. I hear the lock turn and I turn around to face him.
"Talk," I command.
"Let's sit," He asks more than tells me.
I decide not to object and follow him into our small kitchen. We both sit down at the table. He tries to sit directly beside me, but he gets the message after I give him the death stare and he moves to the seat across from me.
"So talk. Now." I order.
He takes a deep breathe. "What do you want to know?" He asks, clasping his hands together and looking up at me.
It never really occurred to me exactly what I wanted to know. I guess whatever he told me would do, but now the spotlight is on me.
"Who is she?" I ask.
"Amber. I worked with her." He answers immediately.
I just nod at the information. I don't recall ever hearing about anyone of that name. Hm, and I wonder why.
"How many times did you sleep with her?" I asks.
He looks down and shifts uncomfortably in his chair.
"Just once," He says after a short moment.
Some part of me is relieved. At least he wasn't having a full on affair with this girl.
He immediately looks down. His face is flooded with a mixture of different emotions. Sadness? Guilt? Embarrassment? Anger? They ripple over his face like a gently tapped puddle.
We sit in silence a few more moments. I don't know what to say and obviously neither does he. I notice him look up at me a few times, but all of my attention is focused on my fingers scratching away at the smooth wood surface of the oak tabletop.
"Why?"
Our silence is broken. He looks up at me and I do the same. His eyes begin to water and apparently I've struck a nerve. Me. I actually just upset him. My blood boils at his unconscious action. How dare he break my heart and claim my tears as his own?
He runs his hand over the slight stubble on his cheeks and chin and rubs at his eyes before any tears can drop from them.
"I don't know," he says. His gaze finally meeting mine.
I scoff at his statement and look around. I look around our small, yet very beautiful kitchen. The kitchen where we had the most epic of whip cream fights. I ended up smacking him in the face with a palm full of whip cream. Not hard. I did end up licking it all off his face though. And how we ended up using that whip cream in other ways that night. I remember how we both stumbled in the house drunk off our asses the very early morning after the fourth of July and we made love on the marble countertops. They were cold against my bare thighs but the moment he slipped into me, he set my being on fire.
I look around to the living room. Too many memories to recall took place in there. A favorite of mine, though, was when I was watching a movie. It was a normal night. Cameron was supposed to be upstairs showering when music began playing. Cameron came down in a cowboy hat, no shirt, a tie, and a pair of boxer briefs on. He serenaded and danced for me as I hooted and hollered, falling more and more in love with every off key note he sang. The same room where he told me he wanted to marry me. The same room where he told me he wanted to have pretty little light skin babies with red hair with me. We even came up with cute names for our hypothetical children.
All the memories. All the love. All of me. He threw it all away for what? A quick fuck with some thirsty bitch who obviously couldn't find someone for herself? She's not the one I should be mad at though. She wasn't the one who made an implicit commitment to someone. She's not the one who was in a committed relationship, and she's not the one who cheated. As much as I want to hate her, I can't. She doesn't owe me a damn thing. But him, he does. He owes me an explanation.
"That doesn't answer my question," I finally reply to his half assed statement.
I wipe the tear that tries to drop from my eye and stare back at him coldly.
He takes a deep breathe and speaks.
"I-I guess I was lonely."
Are you fucking kidding me?
All I can do is chuckle to myself.
"Are you fucking kidding me right now? You cheated on me, your girlfriend of nearly four years, because you were lonely?" I say, my tone intensifying with every world.
He simply nods.
If I were strong enough, I'd flip this table right now and beat the shit out of him.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I holler at him. "You were lonely? You never thought about getting a fucking dog or some shit?!" By this point I am full on screaming at him.
"You know what?" I take a deep breath and push my chair back from the table. "I'm over it." I say as calmly as I can.
His expression changes once again to.. fear maybe?
"Venus, please don't. Please don't leave me." He pleads as I walk through the living room towards the front door.
His long legs beat me to it and he drops to his knees in front of me.
"Do you want me to beg? I'll beg." He says and grabs the back of my thighs in a sorry attempt to keep me from moving.
Tears are freely streaming down his face, and mine too. I don't notice until I feel teardrops collecting and stalling at my chin. I wipe my face and attempt to push his arms from around me. His grip is iron strong.
"I swear I'll do whatever it takes to make this right," he sobs into my jeans. "Just please don't go. I love you. I swear to god I love you and i'll never do this again." He bargains.
I purse my lips and pull him up to a standing position. I cradle his face in my small palms and wipe at the tears on his cheeks.
"I know you won't," and I reach for the door handle. He lets me go with no protests, and I don't look back.