We make it up the stairs and down the hall before I remember just exactly how messy I left things.
Fuck me. Cameron's going to hate this.
I unlock my door and flip on the light, leading the way in. I immediately have to step over a few tubes of paint I left sprawled out on the floor.
"Did you ever live in the dorms?" I say, trying to distract him from my trainwreck of a living space.
It doesn't work though.
"Fucking hell, Rudy," he exclaims as he enters the room. "You're not supposed to turn these into your private studio."
Shit. Of course he thinks it's awful in here. I should have thought of this before I invited him up. He was concerned about me thinking he was disgusting, but now, what's he going to think about me?
"I don't really like working in the classroom," I spit out. "I don't know where else I'd do it."
He frowns and keeps standing in the doorway, arms crossed. "Well, I don't want to step on things."
"Uh, okay," I move back towards him, scrambling to pick up what I can in one armful.
This is so embarrassing. I shove everything onto the desk and create a clear pathway in the room. Cameron stands there with his arms still crossed until I'm done. Once I am, he maneuvers towards my bed and sits down.
"How can you live like this?"
The question hurts for a million reasons, but I just shrug it off and say, "I'm used to it, I guess."
Because that's the truth.
"Were your parents slobs or something?" he asks.
"Uh, yeah, pretty much…"
Fuck, I want a drink. I really, really want a drink.
I wonder if he'd be bothered if I had one. I still have the alcohol that Cameron and Avery brought me for that party. I hardly drank any of it because once we got to the house there was already a bunch of liquor laying around the kitchen. Maybe now would be a good time to break it out?
I head for my closet. "Is it okay if I like…" I pause, bending down and fishing the booze out, "...have a drink or something?"
Cameron raises an eyebrow at me and laughs. "Sure," he leans back on my bed. "I don't give a fuck. You do you."
I don't have any cups that aren't filled with dirty paint-water, so I just drink straight out of the bottle. It's revolting, but fuck it. It's not like there's another option.
I sit at my desk chair, slouching back. How do I bring this up again? How do I ask him what the hell all of this even means? I want to know what his intentions are, but will he even give me a straight answer?
I take a few sips and try to keep a neutral expression. I'll probably get trashed at this rate considering I didn't eat anything today and I don't think I drank any water, either. I don't care, though. I can't have this conversation sober.
Cameron doesn't say anything. He doesn't try to stop me. He just sits on my bed and looks entertained.
When I start to feel buzzed I cross the room and take the bottle with me, climbing onto my bed next to him and leaning my back up against the pillows. Ugh. Yeah, okay. Now I just feel like shit. Drinking on an empty stomach is awful, but it's still better than how I was feeling before.
"You're a little lush, aren't you?" Cameron mocks.
"I guess," I shrug.
It's probably in my genes.
"Cute," he smirks.
It really isn't though.
"Ready to talk yet?"
"No," I say.
He laughs at me. "All right…whatever. I've got all night."
I feel like I'm wasting his time, though. He could probably be doing something a lot more fun right now with anyone other than me.
I keep going until I start to feel drunk. Cameron sits and watches me with this funny smile on his face. He probably thinks it's hilarious. I guess it is, in a really pathetic kind of way.
Wow. What kind of impression am I giving off? Last night I kept saying I didn't want to get trashed and make a fool of myself, yet here I am. Only instead of drinking in a bar with friends where it's appropriate, I'm drinking in my dorm room trying to prepare myself for a conversation that may or may not even happen.
Finally, I put the liquor aside. Even then, Cameron doesn't say anything.
My face feels heavy. "So…" I mumble, pushing my fingertips into my eyelids.
"So," he raises his eyebrows and nods slowly.
Ugh. Now he's making fun of me.
This is so fucking stupid.
"Fine," I say bluntly. "What did it mean?"
"What did what mean?" he asks me with that same amused look.
He knows what I mean. He just wants me to say it.
"When you kissed me!" I say, starting to get shrill. "What did it mean?!"
Cameron starts to laugh again. He sits up straight and then pats a closer spot on the bed. "Come here."
With hesitance, I move towards him.
God, I'm anxious. I'm so fucking on edge.
"You're funny," he says. "It's interesting."
"Okay…?" I mumble.
He's said that before. It's an answer, but not the one I'm looking for.
"You're nervous," he tells me, not bothering to ask.
"Yeah…" I say, not bothering to try and deny it.
"Well, stop it."
Before I can respond, Cameron leans forward and grabs the back of my head, kissing me for a second time.
When it happens, I can't say part of me wasn't expecting it. Why else would he come upstairs? Why else would he stick around? Still, I keep expecting to wake up from a dream.
What happens now? The thought keeps racing through my head. I need to know what happens next.
Maybe this will be good. Maybe, for once, I'll end up somewhere better. Better than anywhere I've been in the past. I want that. It would help me to be kinder to myself, even if I was just for the sake of someone else.
Cameron's a good kisser. I guess he's obviously experienced, but he's not the only one. I've never been insecure about messing this up with my technique, just my shit personality.
We keep kissing and I try to let myself enjoy it. It's nice. It's been awhile since I've kissed anyone and the fact that it's Cameron instead of some crusty old man makes it different. Healthier. Cameron's actually the first person my own age I've done this with. Even still, he's two years older. I don't think I could ever be with someone younger. I've always needed someone around telling me what to do.
I feel Cameron's hand slip beneath my shirt, and reality sinks in. I end up pulling away. Cameron looks surprised and I scramble to come up with something to say… but I can't.
He laughs and gives me a disparaging look. "Are you seriously being shy?"
"No, it's just…" I trail off.
What the hell do I tell him? That I don't want to be seen without my shirt?
"All right," he scoffs, leaning back on my bed. "Talk when you're ready I guess."
I sit there awkwardly, trying to figure out what to do. If Cameron wants to have sex, should I just go for it? I don't really want to. I'm nervous it will make me seem too easy. What if he doesn't like me after I put out? That'd make me feel even worse than getting flat out rejected. This is going too fast. If we're going to do this, then I want to do it right.
Cameron props himself up. "Do you want to drink more?" he offers, pointing at the liquor on my bedside table. "I won't judge you. Maybe then you won't be so fucking high strung."
Ugh. Maybe I should. This whole situation is fucked up and I'm not sure what step to take next. I want to tell him no, but I don't want him to get up and leave. If I drink more, maybe I'll have the confidence I need.
I get up and grab the bottle before sitting back down. Cameron chuckles as I take a swig.
I'm so self-conscious. I wish I could just decide and not worry about going back on it, but I can't. I wish I wasn't like this, but having sex with someone like Cameron is intimidating. What if I take my clothes off and he doesn't like what he sees? I feel like a lot of people wouldn't.
I'm a mess. I feel so stupid. It makes me fucking hate myself.
I tilt the bottle up and toss my head back, swallowing as much as I can.
"Damn," Cameron says.
He said he wouldn't judge me, but I know that's not true. How could it be? This is about as low as I can get.
I wish I hadn't invited him upstairs. I should have never gotten myself into this situation. I should have let him go home and we could have talked later when I was feeling braver.
I want to tell him I'd rather go out first. We can get to know each other better. That's what you're supposed to do, right? That's the foundation of a good relationship? To be honest, I don't know how to build a healthy relationship.
Some people can probably make it work after hooking up first, but I'm not one of those people. As soon as I sleep with someone, I push them away. I might even be the same even if I had a boyfriend. How could I know? I've never experienced that before. I've just had people I fucked around with. People I gave things to. People who gave things to me. Sure, sometimes it was ongoing, but there was never any romance. I was never really attracted to any of them. Not like I'm attracted to Cameron.
I feel dizzy, but I don't care. I just want…
"I don't know what I want," I manage to blurt out.
"Are you sure?" Cameron asks. "Earlier it kind of seemed like you did."
I feel so wishy-washy. Why can't I just tell him? I don't want to make him mad or offend him.
"Well… do you want me?" he presses.
That's such a forward question I'm almost embarrassed. So, I don't answer. I just stare down at my hands folded in my lap.
God, I wish I was dead.
A moment later Cameron lets out a little laugh and says, "Well, guess I'll take that as a yes."
My cheeks are probably so red, thanks to the alcohol and the humiliation of this entire night.
He plants another kiss on my lips and then moves to my neck, making his way down my jawline. It's not soft. He's being forceful. It's obvious where he wants this night to go, but I'm not ready for that.
"Wait," I say, pushing his hands away. "Don't do that."
He pulls back and squints at me, like he's trying to figure me out. "Aw, why? You being shy again?" he asks condescendly.
I frown. That's not what this is about.
"Um," I mumble, scooting further back on my bed. When I do, I fall back against the pillows.
Fuck, my head feels heavy.
Cameron doesn't move. Instead, he just keeps staring like he's expecting me to say something.
"Can we… I dunno…" I shake my head.
Jesus Christ. What did I get myself into? I don't want to do it like this. If there's something between us then I want this to be different than all the times in the past.
"Can we what?" he asks, sounding impatient.
"Go slow," I just sort of blurt out.
"Slow?" he repeats. "How much slower can we even go at this point?"
I start feeling flustered. He doesn't get what I mean. He's still somehow under the impression that I brought him in here just so he could fuck me.
"No, I mean…" I trail off, feeling panicked.
"Why are you being so uptight? I don't get how you can act this way around me. I mean, I already know what kind of person you are."
"No, I'm not being uptight!" I insist. "I just want to take things slow."
"I don't think you know WHAT the hell you want," Cameron cackles. "You even fucking said it."
I do though, at least enough to know that it's not this.
"We already put it off from last night. Why'd you even invite me upstairs?"
"I thought we should talk."
"Well, we talked," he scoffs.
We did, but it's not making a difference. This feels way too familiar.
"Yeah, but…" I say, not sure of how to get my point across.
"This is what I mean," Cameron interrupts me, rolling his eyes. "Obviously you don't know what you want or what you're looking for."
He's scaring me. I make a move to get off of my bed, but he grabs my arm.
"Where are you going?" he snaps. "I'm talking to you!?"
"I need air," I spit out stupidly, scrambling for some excuse to leave.
He doesn't let go. He's not going to let me leave. He seems mad. I don't know why he's mad. I don't feel like I did even anything.
Did I?
"Seriously? Do you like to make a habit of leading guys on?"
Is that what I did?
"I don't get what your problem is," Cameron gives my arm a tug, pulling me back onto the bed. "You tell me you hooked up with a hundred fuckin' plus people, and suddenly you want to 'go slow' with me?"
I can only nod.
"I'm a major step up from any of those guys!" he sneers. "I don't fucking see what you have to think about here!"
Exactly! That's why I don't want this to get fucked up! He's a catch, and I know it, but I don't want to do this now. I don't want to do this tonight.
There's a lump in my throat. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do. I've once again gotten my ass into something I can't handle. Maybe I did lead him on. Maybe it's my own fault because I don't want to deliver.
I try to pull away again, but he grabs me and practically shoves me down onto the mattress. I put my hands up and press against his chest. "Wait," I say frantically, choking out the words.
He doesn't wait, though.