AMELIA

"What are you doing?"

Cam's voice jolts through me, making me jump, and the latte slips from my hand, spilling as I turn. The open fridge light reveals him in the dim space, he is just a few steps away.

He shouldn't be awake.

"Care to start explaining?" he asks, his tone firm.

Let me rewind the past ten minutes. The sun had barely risen when I rose. It was early, but I was unable to sleep deeply unlike Jake. So I quietly tiptoe my way to the kitchen to brew coffee, my head aching from tears shed given I had cry myself to sleep last night.

Jake returned well past midnight, and although I didn't check the time, it felt really inconsiderate since he had initially promised to be back in thirty minutes but ended up spending the entire day at work.

In the kitchen, there were four coffee makers, and all three were available, except for this fancy one with the brand 'for Cam uses only.' This only started a few days ago, and he would make all sorts of coffees while I ignored him. Tauntingly, he would assert that they tasted like heaven, but I will never find out.

Do I truly want to taste a latte made from it? Yes, but I've always respected his boundaries. Today, however, I embraced a bit of gutsiness-I'm having a latte. Besides, what could go wrong when he's asleep?

Easy peasy.

My cup is ready in minutes. The first sip delights my taste buds, and I devour it like a prisoner's last meal, reaching to make a second cup. Yes, greedy, but I won't have another chance.

And in that minute, Cam joins in, catching me red-handed.

He looms in joggers, unaffected by the fridge's chill against his bare torso. I refuse to let that goddamn torso distract me, turning back to my nearly-ready latte.

"Explain what?" I sniff, pretending to be engrossed in the touch bar.

"No, don't do that," he says, towering closer. I step aside, nervously tapping the worktop.

He turns off the coffee machine, but at least my latte is ready. He faces me, and it's hard to make eye contact, with him so close, his presence overwhelming.

"Why are you using my things?" he sternly asks from behind me. I turn away, briskly stepping toward the other side of the kitchen.

"I live in your house too. What are you going to do? Kick me out naked this morning again?" I retort, hoping he stops following me. Unfortunately, he worsens the situation and overtakes me. His skin tight to my face obstructs my windpipe. I quickly change direction, stumbling back, only to meet an end by the worktop. Before I can take another passage, Cam's arms cage me from behind, gripping onto the edges of the worktop with me in between.

"No matter how bad you created the idea of me in your head, I won't do any of those things," he breathes into my hair. I press forward against the cabinets, avoiding skin contact since I'm only wearing a spaghetti-strap crop top and shorts.

"Of course, you haven't done any of those before," I mock, elbowing him away, but he dodges. Suddenly, I feel the tip of his fingers brushing my hair aside, making slight contact with my neck. I don't know if it's really cold or if I'm overthinking it.

I sense him inclining, and the hair on my body begins to rise.

"Cameron-" I don't get to finish; he inhales near my neck, and my tongue stumbles, silencing me.

Please, no. He knows what he is doing.

"Are you mad at me?" he asks, torturingly.

"Cam, stop this. Jake will-" my gruff voice trails off vaguely as he latches his warm lips on my skin. Each kiss takes a part of me with it. It's both good and bad. My knees weaken, and I easily melt into tears.

He notices my hand over my eyes and my shaky breathing. He stops and uses both hands to turn me around to face him.

"Are you crying because Jake could see?" he asks, confounded. He's too close. It's painful.

Can't he see that this is all wrong, yet every time I try to push him away, it's so difficult? Can't he see my life is a mess, and he keeps making it worse?

I let out a shaky exhale; my knuckles cling to the surface for support, turning white from the grip. Pressing my eyes shut, I try to block any image of him.

"I've thought a lot, and despite the pain, I agreed to forgive him for last evening. It's not like he's having the best time with that job either. He wouldn't be in this situation if not for me-if I hadn't-"

"You shouldn't blame yourself. Sometimes things happen for a reason," Cam says, but I disagree.

"Things happen because we let them. I shouldn't have come to Portland... I shouldn't have thought being with someone would be the answer. Please, Cam, just step away."

"Listen to me," he urges desperately, dipping his head closer. I can feel it, but I won't open my eyes; it's risky. "Listen to me. I've thought about it a lot too. About last night, last week, and our first time."

"What about them, Cam? Please, just let me be." I shove his arms, but he remains steadfast, the contact stirring confusing emotions within me. "Look, I don't know, but I want us to-try again."

Scoffing, I rub my face, feeling like I'm losing it. "Try being a good housemate?" I mock.

"No, Princess," he pauses, and my heart pounds in my chest, eyes opening to grasp what he was talking about. In the dim atmosphere, his eyes and tightened jaws speak volumes. "You know what I mean," he challenges, pressing his lips.

"Don't make this more complicated than it is." My agitation grows with every passing second. My eyes shift over his shoulder frequently to ensure Jake isn't coming. "What happened to Jake is my family. I will never betray him," I quote his lines from last night.

He's definitely doing this to mock my behavior from last night.

"Look, I don't do this, okay?" He stares down at me, tormenting me further as his knuckle slides down my cheek. I am gasping and panting from the overwhelming feeling. "I'm sorry if you find me asking for a second chance ridiculous. I'm not the kind with perfect chivalry, but we can try to be even more secretive."

"Secretive? Are you insane, suggesting such a thing?" Why is he doing this to me? He's not the type to want someone twice; he said I should feel lucky for that but now he is taking back his words. How much does he want to ruin me to go against all he believes in just to witness my downfall? "I am engaged. Look at the ring on my finger." I furiously display my hand with the ring in his face. He pulls back to the island, facing me with his chin slightly tucked, focusing on me as if searching for something.
Maybe he can find something in me; perhaps my body language gives away too much.

He exhales a small laugh, burying his hands in his pockets as he leans back comfortably. "Are you happy about it now?" he asks with a mocking tone.

He's so rude to assume things he doesn't know.

I stare back through my blurry eyes and firmly say, "Yes."

"You're lying," he calmly states in a casual tone.

"Why would I lie about someone I've loved for years? Someone who has loved me back for years." I scratch my nose and fold my arms defiantly. "Cameron's true love exists. You might not believe it, but when you find someone someday, you will understand that not everything is about cheating and casual sex." I snap with conviction.

He sighs in irritation but then tries to hide his expression, raising his brows in amusement suddenly. "I thought you were a virgin," he says with mock astonishment and a controlled smile.

I hate him. I want to slap him.

"Do not bring that up," I grumble, seething.

"I must because if you were really that innocent, you wouldn't easily switch between two men and forget your first time. You weren't a virgin." He emphasizes the last line, accusing me as a liar and daring me to defend myself.

I felt a severe blow to my gut, holding onto his intense gaze as tears streamed down my face.

"Why do you resort to hurting others when you don't get what you want? Why-why are you like that?" my voice broke, wiping my eyes only to let more tears flow.

He sighed, looking away. "I-" his words faltered at the sound of Jake's voice.

"Amy?" he called from the hallways.

I hurried to the faucet, turning on the water, and bringing the warmth to my face to wash away my tears.

"Amy?" he called again.

"I'm in the kitchen," I replied, clearing my throat.

His footsteps approached, and the entire room lit up as the lights turned on.

"Are you awake?" I heard him slap hands with Cam behind me.

"Yes, I just needed a-latte."

Jake laughed. "Well, I'm leaving soon. Mondays are usually like that." Then I felt hands around my waist. "Good morning, love."

My eyes briefly closes before Jake spun me around. I try to avoid Cam's gaze, he is over there rooted in his spot, watching intently as Jake kisses me. It was creepy.

All that time, I feared Cam would say something. However, his lips remained sealed in a firm line, only holding my open gaze. I didn't even realize Jake had stopped kissing me until I felt his arms around me in a hug.

"I'm so sorry, Amy. Please forgive me for yesterday. Things got intense. I wish I could be with you all the time, but I'll make it up to you, I swear." I am like a robot as he stroked the back of my head down the length of my hair. However, my emotions were solely focused on what was going on in Cam's head. I knew that if he spoke, it would be over for me.

"Amy, are you hearing me?" Jake's hands cradled my face, and he stared back, searching my face. His blue eyes were a pool of genuine grief. "Please!" he begged, snapping me back to reality.

I just nodded in response.

"Come help me choose what to wear, then," he took my hand, and I nodded again, letting him pull me with him.

While passing, he patted Cam on the shoulder, but I kept my head straight, hyperaware of his friend's suggestive stare.