“Welcome.” She claps her hands together. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat.”
It’seleven-thirty when my mom frees me from watchingScandal, giving me, a twenty-year-old man, permission to go to bed. We were in a good spot in the second season, although I could barely keep my eyes open. This week has been exciting but so fucking tiring.
I finish getting ready for bed, looking forward to sleeping on newly washed sheets, till I find myself tossing and turning in said sheets. Giving into my insomnia, I rip my phone off its charger and scroll through Instagram. My profile is private and has only one post with my family and me. It’s the account I made after leaving Green Hills High School in an attempt to escape my old life and start over.
Smith isn’t home this weekend, and while he’s one of my closest friends here in town, I’m secretly thankful for that. He’d absolutely obliterate me if he knew what was going on between Kami and I. The thought alone makes me wince. All of my other friends in Long Beach are going to college in other states, and Irarely get to see them. I’m only visiting to catch up with Ethan, besides needing a breather. So much has happened since I moved to Driscoll, and there hasn’t been this much drama in my life since high school.
While looking through my feed, I think about what I really want to be doing, and that’s Kamila. I click the search icon to find her account. Blocking Ana’s profile was the first thing I did when I made a new one. Kamila also deleted her old account, and I always kept myself from looking for the new one until now. I have to sift through a couple of profiles until I find her’s, and of course, it’s private. I hover my finger over the follow button, hesitating. She never said we couldn’t follow each other on social media. The little devil on my shoulder makes a reappearance as if forcing my finger to hit the blue rectangle. Next thing I know, I’m waiting for my request to be accepted. Truth is, I want to be able to see pictures of her when I jerk off to the memories of us fucking. Kamila was insecure in high school for a bit because of her plump curves. Those insecurities kept her from ever noticing the jealousy aimed towards her from other girls and the attention she was getting from the guys.
A notification pops up.
Kamila: Why the hell would you try to follow me on Instagram?
Such a fucking drama queen.
Me: Because I’m horny and don’t have any nudes of you. This seemed like the second-best thing.
There’s no point in beating around the bush. I see three dots appear and disappear multiple times till I get an answer.
Kamila: I don’t send nudes, I’ve never sent nudes and I would never ever, ever send YOU nudes.
This woman. I’m typing back my reply when I receive another message.
Kamila: You can’t follow me. Use your imagination or watch some damn porn like a normal person.
Me: I wasn’t going to ask you for nudes. But now that you mention porn, how’s your night going with your vibrator?
I chuckle at how furious she looked after I teased her this morning. Her nostrils were flaring, cheeks flushed, eyes dark and crazy. It was the sweetest and most tortuous revenge for both of us.
Kamila: Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m headed out to see if I can find somebody to finish off what you started.
My grin falters at that. The weird feeling that’s a little too similar to jealousy comes seeping back in. I shouldn’t be jealous. I have no right to be, yet I also don’t like sharing. One weekend and she’s already planning to sleep with someone else? A woman like her can get any guy she wants with the snap of her fingers. So I do what any other mature twenty-year-old man would, I even the playing field.
Me: I was thinking of doing the same thing.
It’s a lie. I have to wake up at eight tomorrow. Then again, I could easily text one of the girls I hooked up with during my time here in community college. The only reason I’m even considering it is to one up Kamila, and that doesn’t feel right.
My phone buzzes against my chest.
Kamila: Yeah, sure you are…
I groan. She’s infuriating. A throbbing headache seems to form after every conversation or fight we have. I’m sure this pent-up anger and weird jealousy will go away after I jerk off.
Me: Goodnight Kamila. Have fun and like I said earlier, good luck finding someone who can make you come as hard as I can.
All she sends me back is a middle finger emoji. Usually, I’d laugh, but this time, I slam my phone down and start stroking my cock angrily to memories of Thursday. Kamila’s plump tits, her curves, and full ass. How rough I’d take her if she were here for threatening to sleep with someone else twenty hours after I was inside of her.
After five minutes, I come all over my stomach and cleanmyself up in my bathroom. I land back in bed, still feeling bitter, wondering who she’s going to end up with tonight.
You agreed to the terms.
I’ll fuck her brains out when I get back and make her forget all about the guy she hooked up with tonight because fucking is the only thing we can do. The rules are there for a reason and it’s better to keep it that way.
It’snine-thirty when I knock on the front door of the tattoo parlor. Ethan’s head pops out from the back room. He holds a finger up, indicating that he needs a minute. The shop doesn’t open for another hour and a half, so we decided to meet here while it was still empty. My cousin has worked at the Ocean Breeze Tattoo Shop in Oceanside for four years now and has formed solid connections, along with regular clients. He got lucky with a great apprenticeship at another shop he worked in for a year.
Ethan makes his way to the front door. “Hey, Cam. Long time no see, dude.” He puts an arm around me and rubs a hand through my hair.
“If you don’t stop doing that, I will pull yours.” I wiggle a strand of his straight black hair that runs past his shoulders.
