hi guys. i know this was long overdue but read my authors note in the last chapter of Poison and i think you'll understand. it's a lot to retype and i don't want to take away from the chapter by posting it. buttttttt yeah, enjoy :)
I was under the impression that spending time with my sisters would help me feel better. It didn't. All they talked about was who they were dating or who they had crushes on. Though my younger sisters are all single, my older sisters felt the need to share about all the dates they've been on and the people that they like. When it's my turn to share, I just offer a weak shrug and insist on listening to them go on and on about the guys they're with. Nola shoots me sympathetic glances, though it doesn't help very much.
Another thing that really doesn't help is my hyper-awareness of the date. It's been 35 days since I last talked to Cam. I feel pathetic for keeping count but it helps me to keep a grip on things. My sisters and I slow to a stop outside of my building, where they pile out of the car with intentions of hugging me. I return each one and let my grip linger on Nola, who reminds me that she'll miss me and that she'll see me again in December. I watch their car leave and, even though it wasn't the most enjoyable week, it was a safer place than here- where I can run into Cam at any moment.
I lug my bag up the steps as I think about how many days there are until December break. Maybe I'll be over Cam by then. Or maybe it'll be just as bad as it is now, because the only thing I want to do in this moment is walk over to his apartment and see if he got back safe. I know better though and I'm aware that all of this could've been avoided. Once again, this is all my fault.
The week goes by rather fast. Gen and Mel move in later on Sunday and we all order take out because none of us feeling like cooking. I return to my previous routine for the weekdays- class, work, library, repeat. When Friday comes around, I decide to take Nola up on one of her suggestions. While I was home, she said that maybe surrounding myself with some new people will help me to move on. Only hanging out with Mel and Gen, who are actively involved with Cam's friends, is only making things worse. So I decide to reach out. I see a girl I have a few classes with post about a party she's throwing and I force myself to ask if its open invite. Just like I expected, she insists I come so I prepare for the night ahead of me.
So here I am, brushing my hair and staring at myself in the mirror. The last thing I want to do is go out. I want to lay in bed and watch Netflix and be sad by myself, but I've done enough of that. I forced myself to do a lot of things today; I deep cleaned my room instead of going to the library and I also did my laundry, which has been piling up for a while. I decide that I look decent enough and call myself a ride. I didn't bother extending the invitation to my friends for two reasons: I'm supposed to be going out with new people, and they're hanging out with the guys tonight. I also don't need them judging me if I decide that maybe I'll try to put myself out there again. I doubt it'll happen but maybe I'll at least make some friends.
I meet up with the girl, Jacey, and she introduces me to a few of her friends, all of whom are girls who pregamed and are drunk. Perhaps its due to their inebriation, but they treat me as if I'm one of them and it makes me feel comfortable. After a bit of urging from them, I join in on the drinking but try to limit myself. The last thing I want to do is get really drunk and struggle to get myself home.
I'm having fun but it's not the kind of fun I want. Its temporary fun because come morning time, these girls won't remember who I am and I'll be just another face around campus that they vaguely remember hanging out with. I'll probably talk to Jacey once or twice before we eventually fall off again and that'll be the end of that. I let out a sad sigh as I finish off my drink. I turn to look for the girls and find them grinding on one another in a crowd of people. Deciding that the party scene is no longer my scene, I search for Jacey and spot her in the corner talking to a guy. I stand up and immediately feel the drink I just finished hit me. I exhale slowly and struggle to narrow my vision. Jacey sees me and I nod at her before pointing to the door. After offering me a hesitant thumbs up, which I confidently return, she smiles and then returns to her conversation.
I let myself out of the large frat house and enter the gargantuan yard. I scroll through my friends social medias and find pictures of Axel and Gen and then Ashton and Mel. They went out to dinner together and I quickly close out when I feel my stomach start to tighten. I wish I was hanging out with Cam doing literally anything. Just sitting next to him would feel better than this.
I take a seat on the grass, which proves to be damp, but I don't care enough to get up. I stare up at the stars and try to shake the thoughts from my head. When I find myself only growing dizzy, my face falls into my arms and I let out a frustrated groan. All of this could've been avoided if I wasn't such an idiot. I keep saying it and beating myself up about it because it's true. If I'd have just communicated with him, things could be better. But I was a bitch; I still am. I'm a little bitch who is scared of commitment and communication but if anyone could've helped me get over it, it was Cam. And now he's gone.
I feel tears start to dampen my sleeves and I don't bother to wipe them away. I haven't been able to cry for a week because my sisters would've known that something was wrong. I didn't feel like explaining my stupidity to them and having them scold me as if I don't already know. As if I don't miss him so much. If only I had just listened and not been so scared, I could be with him right now, or at least on better terms with him. One things for certain- I wouldn't be at some frat party with a bunch of girls I barely know, crying like an idiot on the front lawn. I pull my head up, wipe at my eyes, and attempt to salvage the makeup on my face. I just wish I could talk to him one last time and tell him how sorry I am that I hurt him so he can at least have some closure.
I stare at my phone. I'm good at making bad decisions. In fact, I'm so good at making bad decisions that I don't even realize I'm making them most of the time. Except right now- I know that dialing his number and reaching out would be a bad decision. I still think about him every single day and I can't get him out of my mind, not even for a second. He's probably over me. He probably moved on. And if he hasn't, then he's definitely trying to. I don't blame him and I don't want to interrupt that. But I just want to hear his voice one more time before I let him go for good.
I press call and listen to the familiar ringing. I don't exactly expect him to answer. It's 1 in the morning and he has work in a few hours. He's definitely asleep. But at least I can say I tried. And I can probably hear his voice on the voicemail system he has set up. I expect to get the familiar automated greeting but instead, I hear a click and some shuffling. His raspy, deep, half-asleep voice enters the phone and I feel my heart shift in my body. "Hello?"
I wonder if he knows it's me or if he answered the phone in the dark, expecting it to be something important- someone important- with an emergency. "Hey," I exhale as I perk up a bit. There's a silence and I try to guess what he's thinking. Is he going to hang up? Is he going to call me a bitch? Is he going to yell at me for treating him like shit and then having the audacity to call him?
"Are you okay?" he decides to ask and I feel my heart shatter. Of course after being ghosted by me for over a month, he will answer my call and ask how I'm doing.
"No," I reply with a sniffle. "Are you?"
"Felicity," he says and he doesn't need to say more. I know what it means. It's the same thing as asking, 'are you serious?' while simultaneously saying 'of course I'm not.' Still, hearing him say my name sends shivers down my spine. What happened to being Flizzy?
I decide to be honest because I haven't been in a while. "I miss you," I manage to push out. "I miss you so much, and I know I have no right to because I left, but I do. Every day. And it hurts. And I'm sorry. I just miss you...a lot. I know I shouldn't have called you but I wanted to hear your voice one last time before I accept the fact that we're not together anymore and move on."
Silence. I don't expect him to respond so I continue. I have nothing to lose at this point, and this is long overdue.
"I wish I could go back and undo what I did but I know I can't. But I would, Cam, so fast. I miss what we had and I know I messed it up. You were too good for me and you still are and I'm positive that you will always be. But I had you and I fucked everything up. And now I'm sitting on the wet grass at this party crying because I'd rather be hanging out with you even though I know I don't deserve to be. I deserve to be sad and upset and hurt and I pray you don't feel anything close to this because it wouldn't be fair at all. And I'm probably just making this harder for you by reopening new cuts but I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for everything and how shitty I feel for ruining it. I'm sorry, Cameron."
"Felicity, where are you?" he asks after almost a minute of silence. I had to pull the phone from my face and check to see that he was still on the line a few times but I didn't even think to hang up.
"The stupid frat house a few blocks away from the fire station," I tell him quietly. I didn't expect him to forgive me but I wished he would. I hoped he'd tell me that it's okay and that he doesn't hate me and that everything can go back to the way it was.
"Can you just-" shuffling, "-stay there? I'm on my way."
"I can call a ride. I know you have to work in the morning. You're probably tired. I know I woke you up," I ramble and he only sighs quietly.
"I'm already awake and up," he announces, "I'll be there in a bit."
Before I can even formulate a response, the line goes dead. I pull my phone away and stare at the screen, wondering if calling him was the right thing to do. I wait and count the cars that drive by and pull off. I get to 13 before the familiar black car slows to a stop in front of the house. I get up from my spot in the grass and approach the vehicle while wiping my eyes again to hide the obvious fact that I was crying. As I tug the door open, I lock eyes with Cameron, who looks almost as hurt as I feel. I get in and shut the door behind me, which is the first and presumably last sound of this ride. He waits until my seatbelt is on before he starts back in the direction of our neighborhood. I keep my gaze out of the window and try to think of things to say.
Of course I want to say 'sorry' over and over but I'd sound like a broken record. I want to tell him how much I missed him but I know that'd just mess with his emotions more. I want to ask how he's been and if he's been feeling okay, just to check in and see how he is. I decide not to say anything and instead, bask in the comfort of being near him again and sitting in his car, surrounded by his scent and his presence. I wish we lived farther away so I'd get more time with him because it seems to zoom by until we slow to a stop in front of my apartment. I look up at the house before turning to Cam. His gaze is locked on the steering wheel.
"Thank you," I mumble while removing my seatbelt. I go for the door before stopping. "I'm sorry, Cam."
"I know," he replies with his cold eyes locked on the wheel.
"Do you hate me?" I blurt even though I know I don't want to hear the answer. I expect a 'yes' or an 'obviously' or something along those lines. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if he just asked me to get out of his car.
"No, Felicity, I don't," he answers quietly.
"Can we talk? In my room? I just...I don't want to say goodbye yet," I wonder with a hopeful lump in my throat. He continues to readjust his grip on the wheel. A minute passes before I slowly nod. "Bye, Cam." As I'm about to get out of the car, I hear it shut off. I glance back and find him removing the keys from the ignition.
He follows me inside and upstairs in silence. When we reach my room, he removes his shoes and leans against my vanity. I bustle around the room, changing like I'm in junior high trying to hide my body from the more developed girls. I manage to get my clothes off without actually bearing skin, not that he's looking anyway. His hard glare is locked on the floor and I can tell he probably regrets coming up here.
I hesitantly approach my makeup station, in need of a remover wipe. I stop a foot in front of him and contemplate reaching around him to grab them but decide against it, preferring not to invade his personal space. Before I can ask him to pass the wet wipes, he grabs the package from my desk and peels back the lid. Slowly, he takes a wipe, closes the package, and returns it to its original place behind him. I reach for the single sheet but his head rises and he nervously extends his hand.
Instead of passing it off to me like I anticipated, his free hand rises and lightly grips my chin, subsequently sending a sharp shiver down my spine. I'm forced to close my eyes as he gently removes my makeup, moving slower than I normally do. Once he finishes, he releases my chin and I watch him throw away the soiled wipe and take a seat on the edge of my bed. The rate at which my heart is beating prevents me from saying anything. I know I won't be able to hear myself over the drum in my chest. I silently take a second to gather myself as I watch him rest his head in his hands.
"Are you going to be here when I get back?" I whisper as I grab the doorknob to my room. He only nods in response so I hurriedly finish my nightly routine. I need to get the most time with him as possible. I return to my room and join him on the bed, but I make sure to give him his own space. I want nothing more than to hug him so hard that everything comes together and is magically fixed but I know that won't work. "Are you okay?"
He only sighs and lays back on my pillows. I crawl around him to the other side of the bed and stare at him while he drags his hands over his face. "What do you think?" he questions in a rather calm voice. I wouldn't be mad if he told me hated me or yelled at me or lashed out and left. I watch him for a few minutes, expecting him to say something. He opens his mouth every thirty seconds, as if preparing to make a statement. He always stops though and shakes his head as if it's not worth saying. I look back at my lap and sigh quietly. After about five minutes, he gets up and approaches the door. He moves so fast that I don't even register that he's leaving. Before I can get up to walk him to the door and say goodbye, the lights are off and I'm submerged in darkness. Except, instead of hearing the door open and close, I feel my bed shift and my stomach ties in a knot.
I crawl under my blankets and feel them shift harshly against my skin, telling me that he's laying on top of them. I stare at the ceiling and try to ignore my heart, which is beating out of control in my chest. We're not even doing anything but being around him makes me feel so much better. I just don't want it to be a one night thing, but I'll take what I can get. I wonder how things are going to change after this.
I feel something touch my pinkie and I wait a few seconds until it happens again. I inch my hand over and find that it's his with his palm facing the ceiling. I nervously place mine in his, knowing that if it's too much that he can just take his hand away. He doesn't. Instead, he entwines our fingers in a tight grip. I return the small form of affection and feel my chest constrict even more.
We fall asleep like that, with our hands tangled together. But I don't wake up like that. I wake up alone and it takes me a few minutes to determine whether or not last night was a dream. It isn't until I check my phone records and the trash can and even go as far as to smell the side of the bed that he was on before I determine that he was definitely here. I check my texts to see if he messaged me this morning when he left for work but I find nothing.
I spend the entire day contemplating whether or not I should text him. I decide against it and figure that if he wanted to talk to me, he would. It isn't until 3:00pm that I determine that I should at least make an attempt to talk to him. I know I said that last night would be the last time but I can't just leave it at that. I'm too selfish. I decide against texting him and instead, get up and get dressed. Then, I make the bold decision to walk over to his apartment. He gets out of work at four and I'll be on his porch when he arrives.
I'm there for nearly forty minutes before he pulls into the driveway. He slowly approaches the porch with an unreadable expression on his face. He stops at the bottom of the steps and I wonder if I've gone too far coming here. Is this an invasion of his space? Am I intruding? Maybe I should've just gone with a text. Still, I offer him a half smile. "Hi," I greet.
"Hi," he responds after clearing his throat. I try to see if I can hear any kind of emotion in his voice: frustration, confusion, annoyance. I come up short.
"I just...I just wanted to make sure that you're okay," I explain before shaking my head. All the time I spent sitting here, I didn't spend a second thinking about what I was going to say. "I know that you're not but...I just wanted to make sure I didn't make things worse."
"You actually came to say goodbye before you leave again?" he asks in a slightly monotonous tone. His response is laced with bitterness and it sends a knife through my heart. I look up at him and feel at a loss for words.
"Do you want me to leave again?" I question quietly, rubbing my hands against my thighs nervously.
"Don't be stupid, Felicity," he retorts with his arms tucked beneath each other.
I swallow nervously and refocus my gaze to the ground. "I wish I never left to begin with," I tell him quietly. "I'll only stay if you want me to. I don't want to force myself upon you and I don't want you to feel like you have to say yes after...after last night."
"Of course I don't want you to leave," he scoffs at me, "but I don't want you to come back around just to leave again."
My eyes widen and I quickly shake my head. "I won't. I promise I won't," I assure him and he stares back at me.
"Don't make promises you can't keep," he urges quietly as his eyes search mine.
"I promise, Cameron. I won't leave again. I promise," I insist and he stares at me before slowly nodding.
"Okay," he comments as his eyes fall to his feet. "I'm going to hold you to it."
"Thank you," I exhale in slight relief. I'm going to make things better. I'm going to make things okay again. I let out another sigh of relief as I stand up and practically throw myself onto him for a hug. He stumbles back on impact and I wait to feel his arms around me. Except, he feels cold and rigid and not at all like I remembered. His arms robotically raise and loosely hold me but it doesn't feel real or genuine. I pull away after a second and look up at him. His eyes flit between both of mine before he visibly swallows and shifts his gaze elsewhere.
"I just...need time," he responds and I feel my brows raise a bit. Did I hurt him so much that he doesn't even want to touch me anymore?
"I'm so sorry, Cam," I mumble in a whisper.
"I know you are..." he trails as he looks up at the apartment. "I just need time."
I put my hands behind my back as I watch him. "I messed up really bad, huh?" I mutter and he lets out a slow, quiet breath.
"I'm going to take a nap," he informs me without a glance in my direction, "I'll just...text you."
I nod and watch him head up the stairs to the door. He doesn't even glance back at me as he closes it behind him. I thought this was supposed to fix things but now it just feels worse.