One of the Boys ✔️

XIV

I don't want to get out of bed. I mean, who does when you're on mid-semester break with nowhere to be? Face it, who wants to get out of bed any day. But this isn't one of those 'I just don't want to move' moments. This is an 'I drunkenly made out with my roommate last night after licking salt of each other's necks and I don't know if he regrets it or even remembers it so I can't show my face' moment.

Do I regret it? Hell no. I wanted it to happen, and I'd do it again if I got the chance. But what if he regrets it? Or he says it only happened because we were drunk and he doesn't see me that way? Or... what is he thinks that kiss was just a lead into sex? I mean, there have been moments where I craved that intimacy with him - last night included- but I don't want to be seen as a means of amusement. A way to simply get off. The mere thought of it made me both angry and disheartened. Angry at this being a possibility, and disheartened to even bring up last night if it may be the case.

No, I thought, steeling myself against the doubt. If that's all he wants then he can get lost. I'm not that type of girl.

Reaching over to my phone on the nightstand, I saw that it was almost midday. I had no idea I'd been stewing over this for so long.

Throwing back the covers, I grabbed my clothes and headed into the bathroom. When I emerged, I was wearing the same shorts from yesterday but paired with a simple, black bodysuit. I padded down the staircase, eyes downcast as I assured myself that the chance of me being left alone with Cam was unlikely. So, of course, I stopped dead when I looked up and realised that was exactly what was happening.

My abrupt halt must have caught his eye because he looked up and met my gaze. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," I said, walking further into the kitchen. "Where are the others?"

"They're--" Cam started, but he was cut off by a chorus of shouts and splashing coming from outside.

"In the pool," I finished for him.

Cam nodded. "Yeah, they got a bit bored. You slept in this morning."

"Oh, I've been up for hours," I replied automatically, and then immediately shut my mouth, wishing I could cram the words back in.

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Then why didn't you come down sooner? We all assumed you had a nasty hangover and were sleeping it off."

A hangover. I hadn't even thought about it. I felt fine. Maybe all my nerves about Cam's reaction cancelled it out. One could wish, anyway. Considering how much I'd had to drink last night, I thought I'd feel at least a little out of it.

"Blake?"

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you come down?"

I could see in his eyes that he was speculating, and I was sure he'd figure it out.

"I--" I hesitated, exhaled. I'd never been good at expressing my feelings; things that made me vulnerable.

As though he knew, Cam walked around the corner of the island so that he was standing in front of me.

"Blake, hey," he said gently. "Is this because of last night?"

I met his eyes, and there was no judgement or concern there, merely kind curiosity. But even still, I couldn't bring myself to tell the truth and just say yes. So I danced around the subject with a quiet, "Maybe", and dropped my eyes.

"Blake," he said quickly, softly pressing his fingers under my chin to bring my eyes back to his. "Do you regret it?"

"Of course not," I said without hesitation.