"David! Get down here!" Jeff yelled the second we stepped through the doors of the house. He didn't care about disturbing Zane and his hookup of the night (Erin and Zane got in a huge fight a few days ago and were officially broken up); he wanted me to feel safe. Jeff was an amazing friend. "David! Now! The couch, Cammy? You want to sit on the couch?"
I didn't even answer, just made my way to the couch as I heard the footsteps coming down the stairs. David complained, "Jesus, what? I'm watching a—"
I looked up and made eye contact with him, my face probably red and mascara streaking down my cheeks. My appearance stopped him in his tracks for a moment, then he turned to Jeff and said, "what the fuck did you do to her?"
Jeff raised his hands into the air to show innocence and said, "It wasn't me."
"What happened, princess?" he immediately rushed over to me, pulling my body onto his lap and wrapping his arms around my waist. I laid my head on his chest and just continued to cry, too sad to even speak. He again turned to Jeff, "do you know what happened?"
"I wasn't with her, but from what I gathered, her ex-boyfriend was at the bar," he explained, and I just nodded against David's chest to show that was true.
He sighed, petting my hair and said, "That motherfucker. Did you talk to him?"
I nodded. I finally spit out, "he was just messing with me. God, I'm so stupid. He never ever cared about me. I did everything for him, and he never even cared."
"I'm so sorry I wasn't there. You know I would've rocked his ass, right? You know you're hotter than him. He has nothing on you, Milla. Nothing."
"I loved him."
"I know you did," he tried to think of something else to calm me down, but apparently the words weren't coming to either of us. He repeated, "I know you did."
We sat there for a few more minutes before he asked, "do you want to sleep with me tonight?"
I should've said no. I knew I should've said no. David was just my friend; he didn't want anything more, and my heart was already completely wrapped up in him. I should've been keeping my distance for a few weeks until I could figure out what to do, but instead, I agreed.
"Okay, come on," he struggled to lift me up, but then carried me all the way up the steps to his bedroom. He set me at the edge of the bed and said, "take off your dress. I'll get you a shirt."
I wasn't even embarrassed to be half naked in front of him in a non-sexual way. I slipped my dress over my head and accepted the big black t-shirt he got for me. He asked if I wanted to take off my makeup, and when I didn't answer, he went to my bathroom, grabbed a wipe, and started removing it for me. He discarded the used makeup wipe on his nightstand, then climbed into bed, pulling me up against him. He asked, "Do you feel better now?"
I did, because I was with him, but that fact only made me feel worse. I answered, "Sort of."
"I can't believe he still makes you cry like this. I know you don't want to hear this right now, but you've gotta get over it. He was shitty. It's done."
"I know. I don't cry over him anymore. He caught me off guard," I explained, feeling the tears forming again. "He's not supposed to be here. I came here to get away from him. He ruined my life. He's not supposed to be here."
"It's okay, Camilla. You've got so many people here for you. You're never gonna end up alone with him. So many people are here for you," he paused for a second, then added, "I'm here for you."
"I don't think we should hook up anymore," I said before another confession could slip out of my mouth. This was better. This was easier.
"Okay?" David nodded, sounding confused. No questions, please. I didn't know how to answer whatever questions were coming. "Can I ask why?"
Fuck. The why was that I was fucking obsessed with my friends with benefits, which was definitely against the rules. I couldn't tell him that, so I shrugged and said, "I don't know. I feel like it's bad for my brain."
"Can you turn over?" he asked, and I sighed, slowly turning over to face him. He placed his hand on my cheek, his face looking like he was trying to choose the right words. He finally said, "I want to go on a date with you."
My eyes nearly bulged out of my head, and I awkwardly laughed, "What?"
"I like you," he admitted, an awkward smile growing on his face. "And I have a feeling you want to stop hooking up because you like me too."
"Why would you think that?" I questioned, looking anywhere but his eyes.
"Because I know you."
"What is that supposed to mean?" I frowned.
"You like me," he said. "Because you like hooking up with me, and you wouldn't stop without a reason. And because you're always staring at me."
"I'm not always staring at you," I laughed, and he rolled his eyes. "I'm not!"
"Millie, you find a way to look at me every chance you get. I know you. You think I don't know you, but I do," he was looking way too confident at that moment, and as much as I wanted to take him down a peg, I just couldn't.
"What happened to you not being a relationship person?" I asked. "Because dating leads to a relationship and falling in love. And I don't want to get hurt."
"I don't know," he shrugged. "I guess I like you more than I originally thought."
"That's not a good enough answer."
"I don't know what you want me to say, Cam. I wanted it to be friends with benefits, but it's kind of hard to be just friends with the hottest, most dedicated girl I know."
"I'm not the hottest girl you know," I awkwardly giggled, and he gave me a look that told me I was wrong. "You want to go on a date with me? And eventually maybe date me? Be in a relationship with me?"
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Camilla, if I have to spell it out for you."
"Don't be a dick."
"I'm not. You're just frustrating me. I'm clearly not the type to be open with my emotions."
"I'm sorry, but it was a valid question," I shrugged. "We can work on the emotions thing."
"So..." that seemed to cheer David up. He finally looked at me, a smile on his face, "a date then?"
"The boys are not gonna be happy with us going on a date."
"The boys can suck my dick," he chuckled. "They already know we're hooking up anyways."
"How would they know that?"
"It's fucking obvious."
"No, it's not. They don't know. They would've said something by now."
"They're waiting for us to say something. They know. Why else would Jeff have called me downstairs when you got home? Did you ask for me?" he asked, and I thought. As much as I wanted David in the car, I never mentioned his name. I just said I wanted to go home.
"No... I didn't. Maybe they just know you're my favorite," I shrugged, trying to find another explanation because it was too embarrassing that they knew we were hooking up the entire time.
"They know. You know they know."
"I literally can never look at them again," I flopped my head onto the pillow. My mind was reeling, and a thought came out of my mouth before I could stop it. "When did you start liking me?"
"Huh?" I wasn't sure if the question confused him or if he just didn't want to answer it.
"When did you start liking me? Like, you said you liked me more than you planned, so... when did you realize that?"
"Like four different times," he admitted, his cheeks flushing and his lips turning into a nervous smile. "Every time I thought I did, I forced myself not to. Thanksgiving was the first time, though. I just knew you cared about me then. When did you realize you liked me?"
"In the car an hour ago," I giggled at the thought. "I mean, I probably did before then, but I also forced myself not to. I just realized in the car that I wanted you to make it better, and I was so annoyed."
"You were annoyed?" his jaw dropped as he pretended to be offended. "Camilla White! Why?"
"Because that's, like, the number one thing you can't do with your friend with benefits!" I frowned. "Like, do you know how bad it would've been for me if you were just chilling, no feelings whatsoever, and I was like dude I like you? Were you ever gonna tell me you liked me?"
"Fuck no," he smiled like the thought was batshit insane. "I didn't even want to tell you tonight. I was nervous you were gonna call me crazy for thinking you liked me."
"You were?" I raised my eyebrows in shock. "Why'd you say it with so much confidence then?"
"I was thinking that if I was confident with it, I'd mind fuck you into thinking it was true," he bashfully shrugged. "I don't know."
"That's total sociopath behavior."
"I'm not a sociopath. I just told you I liked you."
"Now I feel like you're lying."
"Camilla?"
"Yes?"
"Go to sleep."
"Okay."
<3 loves of my life
Xoxo abby