Falling is the easy part (Camren)

24

Lauren:

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

It's not like she was doing anything. Just let him buy her drink. That didn't mean anything. It didn't mean she was gonna jump into bed with him did it? Just a drink. An innocent, friendly drink.

Fuuuuuuuccccckkkk.

I pushed through a crowd of giggling, ditzy girls clearly having the night of their lives not worrying about their girlfriend, or even boyfriend, flirting with anyone else and bundled out into the smoking area. Why is it that when all you need is fresh air you end up in the stupid fucking smoking area? Oh just my luck. Sod it.

She wasn't doing anything wrong was she? She wasn't throwing herself at him, or ramming her tongue down his throat, or demanding he takes her right there in the middle of the floor. Well, not to my knowledge I suppose.

Oh God I hate this. I know she's not ready to come out and tell her friends and that about us. I know she's not ready for us to be together in public. But surely that doesn't mean she has to spend all evening flirting with some fucking tosser right in front of me does it? Because that's so not on. I can't watch that. I can't. It makes my insides hurt.

Watching her earlier, giggling with him and smiling that bright, gorgeous smile of hers, it made my stomach go all queasy and my head hurt and my legs go all wobbly. Okay so maybe the last one was more down to the wine but still. She's meant to be giggling to me, smiling for me, smiling because of me. Not some perving, leering idiot with a weird shaped head and a bad taste in shirts. Me. It's meant to be she's in there flirting with, buying her drinks and telling her she's amazing. That's my job.

I'm jealous.

More than just jealous. I feel left out. I feel like I'm missing out, on my own girlfriend. What's that all about? She's mine. I feel like, just when everything's perfect, when everything's good for us, that I'm losing her already.

That's stupid right? I'm jumping to conclusions. I'm thinking the worst. Thinking the worst of my own girlfriend, the girl I'm in love with. That's bad right? I mean it's not that I don't trust her. Is it? I do. Of course I trust her. But, well, she has a past. And she was, up until a few weeks ago, for all extents and purposes, completely and utterly straight.

Fuck.

I leant up against the brick wall in the furthest corner of the club's smoking area, trying my best to dodge the approaching clouds of smoke, and crossed my arms across my chest like some kind of petulant child. This is ridiculous. I should just go back in there. Talk to her. Or wait and talk to her later. I should trust that nothing is going to happen. She's with me, she wants to be with me, she said so herself. Why would she want that loser in there when she has me?

The fire escape door flung open colliding hard with the wall and I looked over to see Camila, all flustered and well, distressed. Guess that's my fault. Unless that prat has done something...

That fucking prat better not have done something to her.

I pushed myself up off the wall and she saw me, her brown eyes meeting mine, that twinkle having faded a little. She stepped towards me, not so close that might arouse suspicion, but closer. Still, I wanted her to come even closer. Right up close. Like pressed against me in my arms close.

"Lo?" She murmured, her voice quiet and sad. Not like the cheery tones she'd spoken in earlier when asking me to come along tonight. That'll be my fault too. The ball of jealously in my stomach changed into a ball of half jealousy, half guilt. This was her night. And here I was ruining it all. But then, just because this is her night that doesn't mean she has to act like this, she doesn't have to flirt to have a good time does she? Maybe she doesn't know how not to flirt.