92. Moving the party
AMELIA
It is good that friends exist. Isaac gave me his bed and shared the other room with his roommate, who's also named Isaac. They refer to themselves as Isaac A and Isaac B. My Isaac is A, but I don't have to use that; he's with me all the time so it was easy. Malia, who first had a sleepover with me on Wednesday night to make sure I was okay, has also been there for me.
However, I think I've developed insomnia. Every night, thoughts of Jake and Cam invade my mind, and I spend the rest of the week seeing the night through to sunrise with my head on the pillow. With Jake, it's mostly hatred that I feel. I regret a lot about my time with him-how I couldn't see the evidence right in front of me. But then, I wondered how it could be possible for me to detect when he had manipulated me into believing he was overworking and needed my support, making me feel guilty for him losing the job he probably never even had, so I couldn't have the stance to say more about his strange working schedules. I regret a lot, but more for not saying a lot that night, probably to his pregnant partner, who gave me the title of an aunt to Jake's child.
Imagine, Jake's child. It sounded strange on the tongue. If you go back to New Jersey and tell people in our neighborhood that Jake will have a child with someone who's not me, even the brats from my high school won't believe it.
He proved to be not who everyone thought he was. If he thought cheating would earn him the title of being a man, then I'm sorry to tell him he didn't make it. I regret not slapping him over his already bruised face that night. I wished Cam had done him worse the night I blamed Cam for being a psycho, not knowing the real psycho was the one sleeping next to me.
Maintaining a good GPA is necessary; school is a must. Not heartbreak or anything can change that. It's just like my job at Harper's. I don't have the luxury right now of refusing four hundred dollars a day, but I've been a walking zombie through those essential schedules, knowing I need to get my own apartment and a car as soon as possible.
Luckily, Cam didn't show up at Harper's, so it was much easier. I try not to make eye contact with her, so I wouldn't change my mind about working, and the times she talks to me, I only respond with a few words, eager to end the discussion.
On Friday, Isaac mentioned Cam hasn't been to any of his classes. I've caved in once and talked with Alex over the phone right after my yoga class, asking him indirectly about Cam, to make sure he's okay since there hasn't been a sign of him, not even on his social media. Some thoughts just frighten me, for he has said things I'm not sure how deeply he meant.
In the call, Alex says he's helping Cam pack for his travel to LA, and immediately I understand what that means.
All my concern for him was in vain.
I am in the locker room, standing with a towel wrapped around my chest, I am supposed to go take a shower, but now I don't know what to do anymore.
My eyes find Harper sitting on the bench, letting Bree do her makeup, and I picture different scenarios of hurting her. I vividly see myself strangling her; I see myself crushing her head against the concrete floor. I hate how dark I can think, but I just can't understand or stop it.
Why would Cam be playing with my emotions? He sat on that chair that morning and told me he felt what I felt for him, but a day was too long for him to hop back to his girlfriend. He's taking her on another vacation.
I'd like to tell him if that's his way of revenge, I don't give a fuck. He can go do whatever he wants from now on.
There was no way I could have him anyway. Someone like him is the kind of man every woman will want, he's the kind that requires and drains all your physical and emotional strength because you're scared he can be taken away from you anytime. You have to overwork yourself to stay perfect and protect what you have at all costs. Look, for example, Harper, while he's with her, he slept with me, he's telling me things that she needed to hear. Put aside his looks, he's a goat, with no literal sense, who tends to follow anything that waves at him.
He's not worth my peace.
My legs are shaky, and my nails tear my skin for blood when I run to the bathroom and close the shower cubicle, sliding down there with my towel on, feeling the water soak my skin.
I don't know how much longer I stay, but eventually, the girls' noises stop, and it's only the sound of rushing water above my head that's audible. I remain that way, not feeling the cold when the water temperature drops.
"Amy?" I am jolted awake by a female voice that knows my name, my eyes snapping open unexpectedly. Exhausted from my demanding days, sleep might have caught me off guard, causing me to doze off in the girl's locker room shower.
A knock comes up on the door.
"Amy, it's Malia. Are you in there?"
Shit!
"Yes. Uhm... I am just about to get out." I quickly get up and take off the towel, squeezing out the water and putting the wet thing back on, before coming out of the shower.
Malia looks confounded. "Harper said she saw you get into the shower since yoga class; it's been like six hours since then. It's dark."
But upon the mention of Harper, I already feel all my anger coming together to boil.
I walk past her to the lockers to go change, "You talked to her?"
"I was worried about you. Isaac said you didn't come home and that you weren't picking up your calls. I had to check on her to ask if you went back to Cam's," She defends.
"You know I will never do that," I grumble impatiently, edgily pulling out the contents of my locker, even though I only need my clothes.
"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" She hurries over, placing a hand over mine, and I come to a stop. Despite trembling, I finally turned to face her. "Talk to me."
"I-I messed up, Malia. I-I messed up." I lower to the bench, trying harder not to cry, but the tears flood my eyes.
"We talked about this. Fuck Jake. Fuck him," she utters, coming to sit next to me. "He's not worthy of your tears. He doesn't deserve someone as great as you. We should be partying; you dodged a bullet," but it's not him that's hurting me. What's more, it's the thought of Cam's scent, his breath against my face, his lips on mine, his touch, the entire idea of him that I know Harper knows too.
I hate feeling this way and having to care, but unfortunately, I have no control over it, and that hurts so severely.
"Cameron is taking Harper to LA again," I blurt out.
"Okay? We don't care about him, do we?" She carefully asks, and I breathe through my mouth.
"The other day... Cameron and I... we slept together." I wipe under my eye in vain as more tears spill while I silently cry.
Malia doesn't say anything, but I hear her pause. I can feel her stare; there's no way I want to see the judgment in those heated eyes, so I don't even try.
"I was so angry, and he was there, Malia. I needed him at the time, I felt so lonely and exhausted. I wanted to forget Jake. And he was looking at me with so much understanding, being so gentle. But I was sober; now I can't forget even an inch of it. It's become the kind of memory that's etched in our heads." He's all I see, all I want when I shouldn't, knowing I can't be with him, knowing he's only going to hurt me worse.
"Oh my goodness, Amy,"
Arms circle around me, pulling me into a hug.
"Won't you say I broke the rule? Won't you say I did wrong?"
"I will, but not now." She squeezes me in her arms. "Right now, I want you to be strong. I know it's hard, but the boys can't win. We won't let them. Screw all of them."
"I burnt Jake's things." I chuckle-cry.
"You did?"
"Yeah!" I nod, and she laughs, making me laugh a bit too.
"Well, I guess Cam's next!" She says. The idea actually feels right and mentally healing.
How wonderful, he won't be around this weekend.
"Malia?" I pull out of the embrace at the idea and meet her eyes. She nods, listening to me. "Tomorrow's Deeja's Halloween party, right?"
"Yes, why?" She dumbly asks, her brows pulling together.
"I think we need to find her. I am moving the party to Cam's."
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