The Other Roommate (camren)

1 - What's Hot, Porcelain Butt?

[EDITED 11/27/18]

Cheaters suck.

Sometimes they ravenously suck lips, too, while their hands rake all over their definitely-not-significant-other's hair as they drag them closer with that insatiable hunger. Their quest aided by their legs that are conveniently around said not-significant-other's hips, whose pants may have been plunged down to their knees.

And for some strange reason, they'd be situated atop the most creative and unconventional seats.

As for the cherry atop the bitter cake, it would be the significant other walking in on such unfaithful act. And yes, that would be Lauren.

"The crate is reserved for oranges, not for cheating bitches." Lauren gritted, informative and strangely catatonic as she leaned against the door frame of the walk-in cooler with her arms crossed and blazing green eyes aimed at her blonde girlfriend. "It'll spoil them like what you're doing to our relationship."

It was two fifteen in the morning, at the end of a very long shift, and Lauren just had no energy to expel for arguing.

Although, biting a slew of sarcastic remarks was fun, too.

Lauren could applaud herself for telling her temper shoo because nothing was better than looking like her discovery didn't affect her at all even if pain was destroying her from the inside.

But when envisioning the end of her relationship, Lauren would have never foreseen the image her eyes were unfortunately viewing. She wasn't dreaming when she noticed hips gyrating, creating desperate friction in their nether regions like thirsty animals she secretly wanted to murder.

And frankly, the fog they were creating in the thirty-six-degree interior was disgusting, and unsanitary. They were going to be hung by the FDA if word was to spill from the confines of that cooler of the club where Lauren worked as a bartender and the two canoodling waiters.

In her supposed realistic visions, her girlfriend would have left her because of an argument courtesy of her stubbornness and sharp, tactless tongue. She thought one of them would miss an anniversary or had too much to drink that they ended up sleeping all day the next day and forgot about a date they'd been looking forward to.

It'd be something stupid with pride shoved in every nook and cranny that neither would want to swallow, really; something realistic.

In other words, she never thought her relationship would go down the drain because her girlfriend of nearly two years would cheat on her – in the walk-in cooler she was supposed to clean, no less.

But maybe that was where she was wrong.

She was expecting a break-up, and she wasn't supposed to.

Although, Lauren would be lying if she denied having doubted that Felicity molded well in her life – especially the last few months. They'd been fighting and Felicity had been less than warm, which all made sense then.

"Lauren!" The blonde perched on two stacks of red crates exclaimed. She pushed the man away – like a wrapper of some candy she had enjoyed, and found no use of him afterwards. Hazel eyes marred with fear while her typically low, modulated voice – that Lauren loved – was raised up high, conveying her panic. Her hands were doing quick work of realigning her black dress shirt and slacks but she left her blood red tie undone. "I can explain!"

"No need. Cheating isn't rocket science, my dear." Lauren waved her off, appearing unfazed and indifferent despite the knife that was twisting in her chest. As far as she was concerned, pain shouldn't reflect in her glistening green eyes and she would sell her act by leaning her head against the door frame oh, so casually.