Life In The Fast Lane •JB•

14

Camilla

I woke up in shock to the sound of yelling and a phone being thrown hard against a wall, along with a few punches. I ripped off the blankets from my skin, sitting on the edge of the bed. I swear I don't sleep that deep to not even realize I somehow got from Justin's car to here. After looking over the familiar room I call mine, I padded out into the hallway to try figure out what the hell was going on.

I tip toe along the cold floors, looking from door to door, and all were closed. Failing my mission, I make my way back to my door as Justin bursts out from his making me jump back against the opposite wall. Steam was practically pouring out from his ears, and seeing me didn't help that.

His fists were balled by his sides and small specs of blood were visible on his knuckles. I bit down on my bottom lip with wide eyes, watching Justin fuel with anger as his chest rose and fell. As much as I didn't want to see him after last night, I couldn't just walk away.

He looked up from the ground, his agitated features softened and so did his grip at his now white fists. "She doesn't want to be with me anymore," Justin laughed sarcastically, obviously not accepting of the fact that she, as in Brooklyn, cut it off. He wiped at his tired eyes, the semi-dried blood now transferring from his knuckles to his temples.

"She probably just wanted you for your dick anyway" I shrugged, receiving a more sarcastic laugh from the now droopy Justin.

"Whatever, I don't care about stupid bitches anyway." He flicked his hand, as if she was getting flicked out of his life.

Although Justin was a couple feet away from me, the stench of alcohol and weed lingered between us. I pulled a sour face, pushing Justin back into his room. "Go freshen up for the day, wash all that shit down the drain." I continued to push him, his feet hardly moving against the wooden floors.

I slowly backed away, observing as Justin looked down at his bloody knuckles. He turned to face me as I was closing the door, and continued to stare with his hazy eyes until I was hidden behind it.

Tip toeing through the quiet house back to my room, I do the same as Justin and get ready for the day. I took a long shower, got dressed into some baggy jeans and an oversized T-shirt and threw on a bit of mascara, just to feel extra nice. I'm horrible at makeup, lips and mascara is about the only thing I can do.

I made my way down to the kitchen where a strong, sweet vanilla smell leaked from the entrance. Taking me by surprise, Justin stood in front of the stove, flipping multiple pancakes. He's hungover and cooking?

"And the boy can cook!" I squealed, giving him a fright. I softly giggled at his reaction, watching how concentrated he was as he took them out a placed them onto a clean plate.

He poured in a new batch and watched them bubble in the butter. "Do you want some?" He asked politely, his raspy voice echoing around the room.

"If you don't eat them all, then sure." I joked, hearing Justin playfully scoff.

I searched through the refrigerator, finding nothing but left over pizzas and beer. "You don't have any whipped cream or something?" I asked, and he shook his head. I frowned into the fridge, resorting to the pantry.

After searching for what feels like forever, I found a bottle of maple syrup. I placed it on the counter top and hopped up onto one of the stools, sitting in front of an empty plate. Justin's back was turned to me as I watched him skillfully flip pancakes without using the spatula, as he did he chuckled to himself, proud of his own skills.