Happy Valentine's Day everybody!
Camilla sat up in a bed that was not hers. Her head was killing her and the flood of sunshine through the window was not helping. Her clothes were scattered through the room; her dress was pooled at the foot of the bed, her heels were on opposite sides of the bed. She didn’t even want to think about what happened last night. Nothing about this room seemed familiar, but her hangover was too severe for her to bother worrying.
“Hello.” Broduey laughed. “Good morning.”
Camilla stopped walking down the stairs. Luckily there was a rail under her hand otherwise she would have fallen over. “Please tell me we didn’t…” Her throat tightened. He was the last person she wanted to see, especially like this.
“Hungry?” He offered her a plate of pancakes and eggs like she wasn’t standing there in someone else’s pajamas. “You look like you need some orange juice.” He smiled and turned to his refrigerator. He didn’t seem remotely upset or confused as she did. He was enjoying this, every minute of this was a joke to him.
“What the hell happened last night?” She asked, dropping her heels loudly on the slate flooring. He flinched at the sudden sound, spilling a couple drops of juice on the counter.
“Look what you did now…” He ripped off a paper towel and cleaned up his mess. “Wait, you don’t remember?” He asked, leaning forward on his elbows. “Hm.”
“Hm what?” She moved closer to the food. “What happened?” She Camiefully annunciated each word. “Tell me Broduey.” She dived back into her mind, trying to get a flash of anything, but she couldn’t remember anything about last night. All she remembered is seeing Broduey and talking to him.
“Ok, I’ll tell you, if you eat.” He bargained. Camilla exhaled deeply and hopped up onto the barstool. She snatched the plate away from him and ripped off a piece of pancake. She plopped it into her mouth and swallowed without chewing. “Well that was smart.” He taunted as she coughed. “Here.” He rapped his knuckles on the glass of juice. She took it and finished half of it. “Ok. Now I’ll tell you.”
----------------------------------------------
“Come on! It’ll be fun!” Francesca whined. Camilla kept shaking her head. “A party is the perfect way to get your mind off of Broduey.” She informed her. “Seriously, drinks and beautiful men, it’s perfect!” Francesca was normally a good sales-woman, getting her friends to do almost anything she wanted, but Camilla wasn’t budging on this one. “Seriously, Cami?”
“I don’t want to party.” She shrugged, flipping through the pages of a magazine. “I’m not in a party mood.” About a month ago, she and Broduey stopped talking. After nearly three and half months, the texts just stopped. The calls stopped. It was like Broduey dropped off the face of the Earth. Camilla kept sending texts, thinking maybe he was busy, but he would never respond to them. Camilla took it personally; ‘what did I do’ and ‘what did I say’ were constantly swirling through her head. She couldn’t remember doing anything that would have offended him.
