I don’t give a shit if it wakes anyone up. I don’t give a shit about anything but trying to get these fucked up thoughts from my head. I’ve spent the past four years trying to push her away. My life exploded the day her dad exposed the fraud my dad was committing at work. It was wrong, Dad was in the wrong, I’d never dispute that, but he and Clint had been friends for years and he just went behind Dad’s back with all the evidence he’d compiled and watched as his best friend was marched from the office, changing his, and all our lives, forever. The only saving grace, I guess, was that it was never reported to the police. I don’t know the reason for that. I can only assume that he was understanding and didn’t want to ruin our lives any more than necessary. I do know that the money Dad had stolen was paid back, forcing us into even more debt.
Dad lived for his job, and for his family. We were the reason he was doing what he did. Mom was falling apart. She wasn’t earning an income, and because of her, we were drowning in debt. He was just trying to support us, and if Clint had bothered to ask his friend what was going on instead of marching straight to the boss with his little secret mission, then things could have turned out very differently.
I was young. I didn’t understand, still don’t, the finer details of what happened. All I saw was my parents and my family falling apart, and it was all their fault. The family up the road who were meant to be part of our support network. How could they betray us like that?
They watched as Mom began drowning herself in vodka, staying out all hours and leaving Dad to dive headfirst into his own depression while I was forced to bring up my brothers single handedly. I was a child, yet everything fell on my shoulders.
I so desperately needed the support of my best friend, but every time I looked at her, this uncontrollable hate bubbled up within me. She had a hand in this. Not physically, but she stood beside her parents and watched us fall.
Dad couldn’t find a job—he now had a record—Mom was drunk all the time, and I was ripping apart at the seams. If it weren’t for Jake, Ethan, and football, I’m not sure I’d have gotten through it all.
As if all that wasn’t bad enough, Mom had to bring home one of her drinking buddies. Dad had taken us out to get some food and when we came home, there they were, going at it in the middle of the living room.
They were so drunk, fumbling around each other that they had no idea they’d been caught.
I remember vividly the coldness in my dad’s eyes as he turned to me and told me to take my brothers upstairs. I rushed to do as he asked, terrified by the vacant look in his eyes.
I have no idea what was said, but shouting and screaming from below bellowed up as I put some cartoons on the TV in an attempt to cover the noise. Once I knew they were okay, I snuck to the top of the stairs and listened to everything unfold from then on out.
Dad was wild, Mom was manic. There were thuds, grunts, screams, pleading. I could go on. It was exactly what no fourteen-year-old should ever have to endure after everything that had already happened.
Dad left that night. He packed a bag, told me that he’d see me soon, kissed my brothers on their head and he was gone. To this day I’ve not seen or heard from him.
I had no choice but to try to stay as normal as possible for my brothers while Mom fractured. She was a shell of the woman she used to be, and I was terrified someone would find out and we’d all be split up and shipped off to foster homes around the country. With that thought constantly in the back of my mind, I just kept going.
Even after everything, Gabriella still came around. It seemed that no matter what, she and Mom were still as close as ever. I was grateful for the support; she helped Mom somewhat get herself back together, but I’m pretty sure that to this day, Mom never told her the whole truth. I think that Gabriella still thinks she just fell apart when Dad left, not that she was the catalyst that made it happen.
I hated seeing Gabriella at the house. She and her family represented everything I used to have and everything I craved to have back. A stable home with loving parents, but I feared even back then that neither were something I’d ever have again.
Seeing Camila happy after I turned my back on her hurt. It hurt almost as much as watching my dad leave that day, but what could I do? Her face was a reminder of where it all started. I knew that if I gave her the chance she’d wiggle her way back in and see the ugliness that I was forced to endure on a daily basis, and I couldn’t do that to her. One of us deserved to live a good life and to be happy. So I let the hate that had taken up permanent residence under my skin fester and I turned it on her.
I laid awake most of the night, my cock throbbing for some action and my head spinning as thoughts of my fucked up past mix with my equally screwed up present.
Everything I tried to keep hidden was crushed the second I had no choice but to move in here, under their roof. I tried to keep her out of it, to allow her the freedom from getting involved, because I have no doubt it’s what she’d have done if she’d have been given the chance. She’d have helped me babysit. She’d have used her own money to buy us food when we had none, and she’d have ensured I focused on the positives. But fuck the positives. Everything, including myself, was poison, and I wasn’t allowing her to be touched by it too.
The last thing I need is a sleepless night, seeing as I’ve got school and work every day and night this week, but when my alarm goes off and my eyes are still wide open, it seems that I don’t have much choice.
Knowing that she’s not going to take too kindly to seeing me, I do us both a favor and get the fuck out of the house before I even hear movement from her room. I take my gym bag and hit the machines before anyone one else.
By the time I’m joined by a few other members of the team who all look at me with curiosity, I’m covered in sweat and still trying to outrun my memories of last night. Not sure any amount of fucking miles will help with that one somehow.
I ignore each and every one of their stares as I make my way to the showers to get ready for class.
The moment I step out of the locker rooms, Noah is the first fucker I see. He’s walking along with a couple of his computer geek buddies, laughing like he’s got no cares in the world. My fingers twitch to feel his neck compressing beneath them as I force him to accept what’s coming to him for hurting her. I refuse to do it with a fucking audience though. It’s definitely a conversation we need to have with a little privacy.
Your time’s coming, you fucking waste of space, I promise as I silently trail behind them.
21
Camila
Mom was super sweet to me this morning and made me pancakes for breakfast before school. I know she feels bad about my breakup, but she’s equally feeling guilty about leaving me on my birthday weekend for New York. I don’t know how many times I’ve told her that it’s fine, but I’ve given up now because I’m sick of repeating myself. She keeps offering for me to go with them and I’ve been adamant about staying, but after last night, I can’t help being tempted by the offer. Being in a different state might be the only thing that will keep my mind off Mason at this point.
Did I do the right thing by sending him away last night? Yes, I can say with complete certainty that I did. Do I regret it, however? Yes, yes, I fucking do.
The reality check that hit me upside the head when the lights came on and I saw him for the first time between my legs was nothing short of painful. My chest constricted so hard I was worried I might have broken a rib or two. How could I have allowed him in to do that to me? I know it was Mason, but I barely batted an eyelid before I allowed him to strip me half naked and have his way with me.
I pull my cell from the charger I plugged it into sometime after Mason left my room last night and power it up.
One single message comes through.
555-617-9764: Girls like you never win. Enjoy the fall.
What the actual fuck? I throw my cell into my purse, angry at whomever is at the other end of those messages and equally confused and hurt by the
fact that Noah seems to be ignoring me. I assume that means he knows he was caught and is hiding. A fucking apology at least would be nice.
The drive to school is silent, and it makes me yearn for the mornings not so long ago when I’d pick up Amalie and we’d shoot the shit together about whatever drama was going on. Now she’s spending so much time with Jake, she doesn’t need me to pick her up, seeing as she’s hardly ever home. That’ll be even more true if she goes through with her plans of buying them both a place to live.
Suddenly, a feeling of loneliness washes through me. My parents are about to head off to New York to embark on the next part of their lives, my best friend is busy planning hers, my boyfriend is... well, we all know what he’s doing. Where does that leave me? Alone in a house with a guy who appears to be torturing me on an hourly basis. Just hearing the water running in the bathroom last night after he left me was fucking hard work. My imagination was running on overdrive, imagining what his body might look like as the water ran down over his muscles. He was obviously hard as he left my room. Was he in there fixing his situation? Fuck if the thought of that didn’t have me on the verge of breaking the door down so I could find out.
I’m later to school than usual. Students are already making their way to their first class of the day, and the hallways are starting to clear out.
I go directly to my locker, keeping my eyes locked on the floor. I have no idea if anything’s got out yet, although if the silence of my cell is anything to go by then it’s still very much a secret.
I’m just swapping some books when I sense someone behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I don’t find who I was expecting.
Shane looks seriously sheepish as he stands with his hands shoved deep in his pockets while he chews on his bottom lip.
For the first time since Saturday night, I wonder if those messages came from him. He clearly knew what was happening under his roof. He was there waiting for me.
Shaking my head, I push the thought aside. That’s crazy. He’d never do something like that.
“How are you doing?”
“I’ve been better, but glad I’m not walking around with my head in the clouds anymore.”
“I’m sorry you had to find out like that.”
“How long have you known?”
“Not long. I’ve suspected something for a while but never had any evidence. Then after Mason kicked his ass, I started to look a little deeper. We were supposed to just be having a guy’s night, watch the game, have a few beers, but the second the girls showed up, I knew he had other ideas. Sadly, it didn’t take long to watch him lead her upstairs when he thought we were all distracted.”
“So you called me there?”
He casts his eyes away. “No. I was just going to talk to you about it. I didn’t want you to find out like that. But it was taken out of my hands.”
“By whom?”
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you know the truth and you can do what needs to be done.”
“Does he know I know?”
“Not that I’m aware of. I thought I’d leave that to you.”
I’m not sure if I’m grateful or not. The thought of standing in front of Noah after all the time we’ve spent together and telling him it’s over when he has no idea it’s coming, even after what he’s done, fills me with dread.
As it turns out though, I don’t get the chance.
I was so focused on what Shane had to say that I didn’t realize that the hallway around us was not completely empty. Well, that is until an almighty crash sounds from just around the corner. A deep grunt follows before a very familiar voice sounds out.
“This isn’t even half of what you deserve, you motherfucker.”
Shane and I run around the corner, and what we find is exactly what I feared.
Mason has Noah pinned up against the lockers by the throat as he growls like a wild fucking animal in his face.
“This is going to hurt,” Shane mutters, sounding way too amused about this situation.
Mason’s fist connects with Noah’s cheek, and his head snaps to the side. Both of them seem oblivious that they’ve got company. I can only hope that the words that fall from Mason’s mouth wouldn’t if he knew others were listening.
“You know, I probably should be thanking you. If it weren’t for you fucking up, then I wouldn’t have spent most of last night between her legs.” Noah visibly pales, while my lips purse in frustration. This is just one big pissing competition to him. Noah screwed up, so he made it his first priority to take something from me that Noah never managed to.
I feel Shane turn to look at me, but I can’t take my eyes off the car crash happening in front of me.
“What I can’t figure out is why you’d play away with a slut like Tasha when you had her with her sweet, tight little pus—”
“You’re lying. I know you’re lying, because that frigid bitch won’t let anyone touch her. I’ve been dating her for years, I should fucking know.”
Mason turns a strange shade of purple, and I know I need to put an end to this before he kills Noah.
“Enough,” I bark, having had enough of listening to this mortifying conversation.
“No. You’re a fucking liar.” Noah struggles to get out of his hold as I reach them. Neither of them turns to me. They’re both locked in their stare off.
“Put him down, Mason. This isn’t your issue, or your fight to have. Now back the fuck off.”
“Like fuck it isn’t. You know—”
“Just shut up. I think you’ve already said enough, don’t you?”
Reluctantly, Mason releases Noah’s neck and he falls down with his hands on his knees as he catches his breath.
“You’re going to fucking regret ever touching that whore,” Mason warns. I sense he’s got more to say, but he soon shuts his mouth when I turn my stare on him.
“He’s lying. Tell me he’s lying, Cam,” Noah begs, clearly not able to handle that while he was off getting his rocks off, I was able to give someone else what I never gave him.
I look back to my pathetic excuse for a boyfriend. Does he actually think he has any kind of right asking that question?
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You’re lying,” he snaps, looking up to Mason. “You never would have let him touch you. You hate him.”
The sound of Mason’s quick intake of breath at this statement is hard to miss, but how he can be surprised after the way he’s treated me over the past four years I have no idea. Noah’s been by my side through all of it and knows as well as I do how Mason’s treated me.
“Yeah well, I never thought you’d cheat, but I guess we can all be wrong at times.”
He blanches, but he must had been given a clue that his indiscretions were out in the open when Mason flew at him not so long ago.
“Just in case you need it spelled out for you, we’re over. The cheerslut can have you. I hope she chews you up and spits you out like they all do.”
“Camila, wait.”
Ignoring Noah’s pleas for me to hear him out, I turn my back on him and start off down the hallway toward my first class. That is, until Mason reaches out. I tug my arm away before he makes contact. I can’t deal with him being this close having done what he just did, let alone touching me.
“Don’t,” I snap.
“What he just said... does that mean—”
“It doesn’t mean anything, Mason. Just leave me the fuck alone. You’ve already done enough damage.”
His face drops, and I almost take every word back, but when I recall what he just did and said to Noah, my back straightens and I leave the three of them behind me.
I intend on going straight to class, but instead of turning left toward history, I find myself heading straight for the exit. After a short drive, I order myself a takeout milkshake from Aces and take it down onto the beach.
I find myself a spot on the last bit of dry sand and sit and watch the waves crashing in.
>
My fingers grip the cup a little too tightly as I replay those horrendous few minutes in the hallway. Mason had no right doing or saying what he did. Noah was my mess to fix, yet he stormed in like a bull in a fucking china shop. What exactly was he trying to achieve? Does he want to be seen as the big man who always gets what he wants so badly that he had to go after Noah to tell him what he spent his night doing before I even got the chance to look at him?
Digging a little hole for my cup, I drop my head into my hands, trying to figure out where I go from here.
Two things are for sure. One, things are over with Noah, and two, I need to stay the hell away from Mason.
I hang around town for the rest of the day, not feeling prepared at all to face the music, but I know that the gossip will have spread around Rosewood like an out of control wildfire by now. My cell’s been vibrating almost constantly in my purse, but I’ve ignored it, preferring the distraction of shopping for a new outfit for my birthday meal on Friday night.
I don’t venture home until I know school’s out, knowing that the chances of both my parents being home is high seeing as they’re busy packing for Dad’s move. But when I pull into our driveway, I find that it’s not only their car waiting for me but there’s also a red little sporty thing parked there. Knowing it can only belong to one person I know, I suck in a deep breath and prepare for the questions that are about to come my way.
“Hey, sweetie. Did you have a good day?” Mom asks the second I walk into the kitchen. She pulls the refrigerator open and hands me two cans of soda.
“Yeah, it was…” I don’t get to finish because Mom’s sympathetic eyes find mine.
“It’ll get easier, I promise.” They’re the same words she said to me last night. Just like then, they don’t fill me with any kind of confidence for what the next few days and weeks might be like. “Amalie’s up in your room starting on her homework. Here, I bought you doughnuts to cheer you up.” She passes me a box and my mouth waters.
PAINE: ROSEWOOD HIGH #2 Page 15
