Not Quite the Opposites (camren)

19 - Positively Disappointed

Mornings always carry some sort of positivity in them; always, being an inconsistent entity. The breaking of the dawn and the bursting of the new morning had always offered me optimism regardless of the commotion that was the previous night. 

It wasn't like that when I woke up that Sunday morning, though. It wasn't just the usual problematic night. 

I had scraped my dignity.

I awoke with a pounding force in my head, I was certain a jackhammer had been thrashing against my skull for days on end. That was what I got for drinking too much. I kept my eyes shut as I searched the other side of the bed for a warm body that I slept with, patting on the surface lightly. But she was not there.

I panicked.

Andrew's abruptly leaving me in the most appalling way possible to latch onto another prey did a number on me, mostly on my pride. However, being left by someone who didn't mean anything to me was slightly bearable given the situation compared to being left by the person you're drawing strength from. I was despondent when I realized Camila was not in the place I remembered her being in that previous night.

I swiftly sat up, peeling my eyelids in the process. The sudden movement caused an uproar in my tender head. My vision spun and I was experiencing an episode of vertigo that I did not sign up for. I groaned while rubbing the heels of my hands against my eyes as I dug my fingers on my scalp, coping with my aching head.

It took me a couple of minutes to fully recover and commence my search for Camila. With my phone in my hand, I wobbled my way through the door, blinking incessantly to clear my rather blurry vision. Just underneath the door frame, I could smell freshly cooked French toast and the beautifully delicious aroma of brewed coffee. I took a deep breath to fill my senses with the smell I was enjoying.

Relief had showered down upon me as I spotted the slightly shorter brunette. Camila was standing by the table, clearing plates, silver ware and water goblets out. She was piling them all up in a stack, ready to transport them in the kitchen. She apparently had company that I was not aware of.

"Camz, you can't leave me like that." I immaturely complained as I wrapped my arms around her waist.

The warmth that is only elicited from Camila's touch forced me to take a desperate breath as air was seemingly forced out of my lungs with butterflies filling up every crevice of my torso. I would have died right then and there.

Camila made me feel safe while putting my life in danger at the same time.

I pitifully protruded my bottom lip despite her inability to see it while I furrowed my brows. I laid my head by her shoulder, my nose close to the back of her neck. I tenderly rubbed the side of my face against her like a kitten making her chuckle slightly.

The typical scent of her fruity shampoo was coated by the exhaust that was produced from the food she cooked. She cooked for me again.

"I'm sorry." She laid her hand over my interlocked ones and squeezed them, sounding incredibly apologetic for my overemotional episode. "I thought you might be hungry so I made food for you. Besides, Sofi came barging in asking for food and my parents were actually here to have breakfast with us." She spoke incredulously, trying to process the unbelievable news like the words didn't flow out of her mouth.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

A pang of anxiety hit my gut as I thought about being disrespectful to her parents. I was in that house, I should have helped Camila cook or at least shared the meal with them. I have been raised to give as much regard to my friends' parents as much as possible. Moreover, they weren't just my friend's parents; they're Camila's and that little detail made the disparity enormous.