tampax

-03

❝We are never, ever, ever getting back together.❞

- Taylor Swift, We Are Never Never Ever Getting Back Together

✦

She lazily drags her brush across her freshly pampered face, blending any unblended traces of bronzer, sweeping away stray bits of powder, making sure everything about her face candy is on point, before placing down the rose gold tool.

She smiles her enlightening smile, showcasing her pearly whites, as she glares at her reflection. Satisfied at her hour's worth of artistry, her face being the canvas, she rises from her plush seat, slipping on her fluffy slippers and pulling the strings of her robe tighter around her body.

She sidles across the plush carpet of her vanity room, wrapping her fingers around the handle of her wardrobe. She drags it open, before entering. She reaches for her already prepared outfit, admiring her choice. When it came to clothes, she always knew what she was doing.

She runs her hands over the smooth fabric of her revealing top, however, before she could put it on, a soft tap catches her attention. She pauses her actions, frowning at the spontaneous noise. She stills herself the best she could, expecting the sound to repeat itself.

This time, it was more of a bang than a tap. She jumps at the impact's sound, almost immediately discerning what all the ruckus was being caused by. With her clothes bundled in her clenched fist, she exits her vanity room, closing it's sliding door behind her.

She flings her clothes onto the soft material draped across her bed, before making her way across her bedroom, where two chalk white doors leading to her private balcony are situated. She twists the key, already patiently waiting in the door's lock, and pulls open both doors.

She releases a high pitched squeal, dropping to her knees as, yet another, object flies above her head. She winces as she hears the object impact with a fragile item behind her. Too scared to look at the damage that may have been done, she slowly rises and proceeds onto the veranda.

She squints at the hooded figure at the bottom of her lawn, her breath hitching once she catches sight of the small pile of stones beside the intruder's feet. She cringes at the anonymous being's attire; black clothing and a pair of jet black sneakers to finalize the 'scary' look.

Before she can question the person's identity, their hand snakes behind their head, removing their hood, and as soon as she catches sight of the scruffy hair, pale face, and white on black bandanna draped around their head, she easily puts a name to the face.

"Cameron, what the hell are you doing here?" Her voice is laced with such hatred and venom, that the boy couldn't help but jump backwards in fear. Hearing such a happy being spit like the devil was quite daunting.

"Well," he smirks, attempting to regain his cool, conceited charisma, "nice to see you too, babe. You look all pretty, going somewhere?"

"Firstly, it's Sahar for you," she snarls, poison oozing from her mouth as she spoke, "and secondly, yes. Yes I am going somewhere."

"Really? And where would that be?" Amusement sparkles in his dark orbs, as he leans against the pink-leafed blossom tree to the left of him. His grin was now pointlessly existent on his face, and he held a smug expression, not knowing Sahar was about to dissemble his ego.

"To the porthole so I can watch you get your ass kicked," Sahar smirks. She crosses one tanned leg over the other, and rests her arms on her balcony's ledge. Cameron's smile falters, as her words begin to taunt his self-image

"I that's what you're expecting, then you're going to be quite let down, babygirl," Cameron retorts, proudly, before sending Sahar a wink and running a hand through his over-gelled hair. Sahar cringes at this, mentally gagging at how much of that gel had come off on his hands, "but that's not what I came here to discuss."

"And what exactly did you come here to discuss?" Sahar asks, intrigued. Cameron chuckles lowly, using his upper body strength to push him off what had been supporting him.

"Us."

"There is no us, and there won't be. Not now, and certainly not ever again," Sahar is quick to snap back at Cameron's ridiculous subject choice. Cameron only shakes his head, Sahar's words somehow convincing him more and more that the two would soon be together.

"Don't worry, sweet cheeks, your phase of denial will pass soon," Cameron says, followed by an obnoxiously loud laugh, and Sahar mentally prayed that anyone else in the house would hear his sickening cackle and get Cameron out of her sight.

"You're sick."

"Sick of not having my lips all over your body like I used to-"

"Stop," Sahar demands, massaging her temples as her head begins to ache at the evocative memories, of the multiple times she'd allowed his lips his eyes, his hands, to roam her body freely. Cameron sighs in satisfactory as he watches her. "Leave, now, before I go call the cops."

"You're right; I should be leaving," Cameron huffs, glancing at the glistening Rolex bound to his wrist, "I have an exciting night ahead of me, don't I?"

"If you think getting your ass beat in front of half the school is 'exciting', then sure, I guess that's what you could call it," she growls. She had lost all patience with the imbecile, now fully convinced she she should shoot him.

"I'll see you tonight, babygirl," Cameron chortles, pulling his hood back over his head, it's shadow now consuming his facial features, "cheering me on, while me and the gang smash these guys' faces in the ground."

"Don't get your hopes up, pretty boy!" Sahar yells after him, watching with disgust as he sprints to the far end of her freshly cut lawn, and, in swift movements, leaps over the wall separating her property from the rest of Omaha.

She whips around, storming back into the safety and comfort of her room. She frantically begins clothing herself, now ten times more eager to get out of her house-

And watch Cameron Dallas get his ass beat.

TAMPAX
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