Kara "I fucking want you more than goddamned anything." With that, Cameron stepped out and closed the door behind him. I stared at the door for a moment, not knowing what I should think with everything that happened in Cameron's room. Why don't you start with how you kept asking him to sleep with you? Oh wait, that's right. How about that blowjob he refused? I grabbed a pillow and smashed it to my face, muffling my scream. Shit. Shit. Shit. Was I pushy? Was I being too much again, asking for too much again, expecting too much again? Was that why he refused, even stepping out of the room so that he could get away from me when I was all naked and throwing myself at him? Old insecurities pushed the door open, peeking, but I locked the door quickly before they could step in. Where's that confidence now? Double locked it. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "You think after what happened to you today that I would?" His deep, raspy voice was a welcome intrusion from the one in my head. I believed him. How could I not when his words were laid out so clearly, so honestly in his face? In his eyes when he looked at me with yearning in them. And maybe sometimes I thought that it was...more. What did he see when he looked into my eyes? Did he see the same in mine? A lock of my hair fell over my shoulder. I touched it, found it barely damp. It was in his actions when he took great care of me that showed me his true feelings. No one had been so attuned to my moods, so concerned, so affected, so willing to appease. "Let me wash your hair." No one had washed my hair since I was a child. Not since that day when Dylan had tripped and the open can of paint that he was carrying somehow teleported and splattered all over my hair. My dad had hosed us down in the backyard after I was done rubbing the paint on my hair all over Dylan's face. It had been a fun day with the three of us laughing like loons. Just the three of us. But now... Remembering what happened that day with my dad and Dylan and comparing it to what happened today was making me deeply miserable. Why did all this shit happen in one day? First with my best friend Tala, telling me that there were only a few days before she'd leave Canada for good and flying back with her mother to the Philippines. Then as if that wasn't enough, I ran home to lick my wounds and be in the presence of my family, but instead I found my self-absorbed mother who'd ran away with another man cozied up with my brother and dad. To top it all off, the look that my dad and Dylan gave me as if I was the outsider in our family now... Panic gripped my throat. What am I going to do now? Where do I go now? What's the point of working so hard all these years? It seemed like everything was crumbling under my feet and I didn't have a rope to hang on to and save myself. Everyone seemed to be moving on so easily and I couldn't keep up. Was it really that easy for them? Was it me who was wrong? What's wrong with me? No. Don't think about it. Steel, baby. You're made of steel. My phone screen lit up, having enough charge to turn on by itself. It gave me anxiety when it vibrated continuously from the bedside table. I held it in my hand, refusing to look at it as I felt the threat of angry tears at the thought of any of them trying to reach me and getting my voicemail. Or worse, what if they didn't? I would deal with it, but later. I placed my phone facedown on the bedside table and got up. I sucked at blocking unpleasant, hurtful things but if I tried really, really hard I could do it, I thought as I grabbed the blanket, snapped it angrily in the air, and spread it nicely on the bed. And of course, having a big—and I meant literally big—distraction like Cameron helped a lot. If it weren't for him... Warmth was pushing away the misery in my chest at the thought of Cameron. I always believed that I was strong enough to handle everything. Everyone expected me to handle the hard things, I expected myself to handle the hard things, and thought that if I didn't, I'd lose my...identity. That if I shared my burdens and asked for help, my weak side that I despised so much, the weak side that made me feel useless, made me feel insignificant, made me feel small and not needed, made me feel angry at myself, would push the people who are important in my life away. My mother certainly did. But not Cameron. He had seen me during one of my weakest moments and he was still here. Cameron showed another side of me that I didn't even know I had. He was just so...accepting of me. I didn't have to prove or do anything for him to want to be with me. These were some of the reasons why I was bold enough to...to... Offer him a blow job? Sit on his face? "Ah!" I grabbed the pillow again, smashing it against my face and ruining the perfectly arranged bedding in my haste. My face felt hot. I needed to cool off. My emotions were all over the place today. Maybe I'd snoop around a little, I decided as I rose and finger combed my hair, wincing when I encountered snags. I was going to study his space to calm myself before I step outside his bedroom and eat what he made for me. He was always cooking stuff for me. If that didn't make me feel soft, then I'm a dinosaur. I'd return the favor and cook him a meal, but he might think I was poisoning him if I actually whip up something on the stove. As far as I was concerned, shaking cereal in a bowl counted as meal prep. Come to think of it, we haven't even had a proper meal where we actually sit down together, talk, eat. Not just a sandwich or a hotdog, but the real deal. A date. Actually we hadn't done a lot of things together as a...couple. Well, it's all about perspective. The last time you were inside his house, you didn't do a lot of talking either. Cameron was right. Sex made you forget things, but was that why I wanted to sleep with him tonight? I was honest enough with myself to admit that yes, it was part of the reason. My heart was hurting, and I wanted to forget, feel needed and desired, but I knew myself enough that I wouldn't give myself to him or to anyone if my heart wasn't a hundred percent certain. But he had a point that the circumstances weren't right. Sharing my body with someone was too important to me. I wanted it to be meaningful. I wanted to be with someone I respected, admired and desired, and who felt the same way about me. Besides I only had this one body in this lifetime. Unless humans find a way to transfer my consciousness to another body, then maybe I'd consider other options. I'd choose a body with bigger boobs next time though. After all it's good to experience different things, right? I frowned as I examined his almost empty and impersonal room. He had a king size platform bed with a dark wood finish that looked simple and sleek. Two bedside floating tables in the same dark wood finish and black plain industrial lamps flanked the bed. A camel-coloured leather couch that looked like it's been loved and abused sat against the wall. There was a folded blanket and a pillow on top of it. It was like the whole set-up was a package and he just bought all of it to get out of the store and be done with it. I smirked. Typical male. If he'd let me decorate it— "I like sleeping on the couch too." I looked at the bed then back to the couch then back to the bed again. A memory from what felt like a long time ago. He'd said this to me that first day he went to my shop and had followed me to my house which was located at the back of our shop. That day when he blackmailed me to give him rides. That day that intertwined our fate. I had said something about my dad sleeping on the couch, and Cameron said he did too. But why would he? He had a perfectly comfortable bed here. This was just a room to sleep for him, I realized as I walked to the back end of the room where there was another door. He didn't hang out in this room. No TV or PlayStation or photos. No mess. No dirty socks or underwear lying around. Not even a catch-all chair where he could dump guy things. It was too clean. If Dylan was even remotely like this, I'd sing Hallelujah everyday, but with Cameron it made me sad. Why did it feel like he doesn't want to settle here? As though he could pack all his belongings in a bag anytime and leave. For good. Just like... Stop thinking. I turned the light on. My jaw fell to the floor as I stepped into a walk-in closet. It was long and spacious, like a small corridor, painted a light grey with dark blue accents, impressive shelves and drawers, but he barely used the space. I felt instant closet envy. If this were mine, I'd fill it up quickly. It was almost empty. There were only a few clothes folded neatly. A couple of dress shirts and dinner jackets that looked elegant but lonely in the unoccupied space. The dress shirts must be for work with meetings with clients. I hadn't seen him wear one. Now I couldn't stop imagining him wearing a tie. I could pull him to me with that tie... Get your mind out of the gutter.