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Amateur

Ever been in love with the school flirt? It sucks. This story is only partly true, and this is the first part. I intentionally left out character descriptions so you can use your imagination. I really hope it leaves you itching to read more. Please give me feedback, I’m not quite sure how to end it but any comments would be appreciated.

*

I met Cameron as a senior in high school. I had my eye on him before we officially met, and one day I just worked up the nerve to speak to him. We started laughing and joking around, about silly stuff. It was instant chemistry, and we became best friends almost instantly.

Cam and I had that kind of bond you have with someone you’ve known all your life, except for the fact that it just came out of nowhere. We were able to communicate with no words, and had millions of inside jokes that left other people raising eyebrows. We poured our adolescent hearts out to one another.

Then I had to go and fall in love with him. I think I had always been in love with him, but one day we were in art class. I had just created the most hideous sculpture ever, and I was wondering why the hell I even took art as an elective because obviously I suck at it, and Cam just looked at and laughed.

“Em, what the hell is that?” he asked.

I looked at the lump of clay and shrugged, feeling like an artistic failure.

“Dude, that’s so awesome. Your sculpture is so original that we won’t even be able to interpret it.” He pretended to be awe struck by the piece of pseudoart before him.

I simply had to laugh at his goofiness. Looking up into his blue eyes, I felt my cheeks redden and my stomach tightened.

Oh no. Not good.

I knew I had fallen for him, and hard. I also knew how big of a mistake it would be. Cam was one of the most attractive, cool guys in the whole school, and he knew it. He didn’t act all stuck up about it, but he definitely liked the attention. Girls were practically killing each other to talk to him. How I had managed to earn the position of best friend is beyond me. Until that day, I had never understood why the hell all these girls were after him.

If you are a jealous person by nature, then try to imagine dating the class flirt. It’s like a completely new circle of hell. Day after day, I had to watch Cam talk to and flirt and hug girl after girl. He had a new “girlfriend” every week.

But I saw the side of him those girls didn’t get to see. Cam was usually the fun loving, comical, “life of the party” personality. There were times, however, when he would slip into a deep depression. He’d call me.

It probably sounds mean, but I enjoyed his bouts of darkness. I liked that bahis firmaları side of his personality. Cam was really an insecure person, on the inside. He wanted people to like him, and so he bought into the easygoing, cool, popular guy thing. Then he would come to me and confess how he really felt about it. That he hated putting on an act for girls he didn’t like, hated having to brag to his friends in order for them to like him. Lying about the fact that he was really a virgin, and writing poetry only to just throw it away because nobody was interested. Except for me.

That was the part of him I loved, the part he hid away. I could see it in his eyes when we spoke. Those icy blue eyes that burned into me…I couldn’t.

Eventually, seeing him hang around all those other girls started to get to me. It made me sick. If this wasn’t him, then why the fuck did he bother?

This is me. I’m Emma, and I do not want to be your friend. If you don’t know me, don’t pretend you do, and don’t expect me to kiss your ass. I was pretty much a loner. I wasn’t into social activities, I didn’t have “girlfriends”, and not a whole lot of boyfriends. I was a very honest person, not only with myself, but with other people. It’s probably safe to say that I wasn’t well liked. Especially having Cameron as a friend; that only served to make my female classmates really hate me. I hated the way girls would pretend to be my friend just to get to Cameron. I wasn’t an outcast or anything like that, but I had a few friends who were good and honest, and that was about it

Somehow, Cameron had worked his way into my tight knit circle. It was a paradox, and it surprised everyone else as much as it surprised us. As much as I hated his double life, I couldn’t just walk away from him. After all, I had spoken to him first. I had fallen for him. I was the only one to blame. I suppose I’ve always been a bit masochistic, but it was ridiculous.

So I did the one thing I was really good at. I blocked him out. Once I realized I really did love him, I stopped looking at him as a friend. I stopped opening up to him. He was immediately aware, but he didn’t say anything.

Cam called me, late at night, a couple months after the “incident” in art class. He was depressed. Normally, I was happy to talk to him but I was upset. It was Tuesday, and he had just started “dating” another stupid, ditzy girl, who of course, hated my guts. Her name was Candy or Carrie or something, and she was a perfect little cheerleader who looked at me like we were in Salem and I was a witch.

I was not in the mood to help this guy feel better about himself, so when he started in with his self deprecating jokes, kaçak iddaa I said nothing. He noticed something was off, so he started trying to get a response from me.

“Candy doesn’t like me being friends with you, you know.” he chided, sounding like a little kid. “Maybe I shouldn’t be dating someone who can’t get along with my best friend.”

I felt ill suddenly. “Fine, I’ll stay out of the picture.” I said, with a cold edge to my voice.

There was a pause. “You know, I don’t really like her anyway. I know you don’t like her. You never seem to like any of the girls I date. I was hoping you and Candy could be friends.”

A wave of jealousy hit me, and I said the first thing that came out, my voice taking on a cruel, condescending tone.

“The reason I never like your girlfriends is because they’re all basically whores who want to have sex with you, but you dump them before they find out you’re really just a virgin. Then you go back and brag to your friends about how she wasn’t “good enough” to take to bed. It’s a little pathetic, you know.”

I heard a slight gasp on the other end of the line.

“Emma, what are…you’re being a bitch, you know? Damn. I’m trying to have a conversation.” Cameron sounded hurt.

I couldn’t stop. This was months of pent up jealousy and frustration coming out, and I was in so much emotional pain that hurting him felt great. A mental slideshow of him with his girlfriends began to run through my brain, and in that moment, I could hate him.

“I’d rather be a genuine bitch then a fake like you, Cam. Luckily, nobody really knows you. If they knew how insecure you really are, and the great lengths you go to impress everyone, they’d think you were a fucking loser. How long do you think you can keep this up?”, and I was almost yelling. “How many girls are you going to pretend to date? How many lies are you going to tell your friends? God, do you think I’m stupid? That I don’t see what you’re trying to do? I’m sick of making you feel better about yourself. If you want someone to cheer you up, maybe you should look in the fucking mirror. Only you won’t because you are pathetic..” That last word dripped from my lips like venom, and I knew it had stung him deep. The truth hurts more than anything else.

Cameron was silent. I took a deep breath, suddenly panicking that I’d lost my best friend. Too late now; but I didn’t expect his response.

“You’re right, Emma. I’m sorry. You’re not stupid.” His voice was soft, and I heard the line disconnect.

I couldn’t sleep. I stayed up that night, thinking about Cameron. His strange personality, both carefree and disturbed at once. It felt good, in a way, to kaçak bahis get the frustration out of my system. I hoped he wouldn’t hate me.

Cam came to class the next day, but he wouldn’t look at me. He was different. He was quiet, sullen and more reserved. He wouldn’t speak to me directly, but he did make eye contact every so often. The expression in his eyes was impossible for me to interpret.

This went on for about a month. At this point, I wasn’t focused on it so much. Graduation was drawing very near, and I had other things to worry about besides Cam Davidson.

One day I came out of my chemistry class, fumbling with about twelve notebooks when I ran straight into someone. Cam. Plowing into him about knocked me on my ass, but he grabbed me quickly.

“Yeah, you just walked into a brick wall, didn’t you?” he laughed, jokingly. He was right, though. He’d always been muscular but his body had felt hard as steel just then.

I smiled wryly. “Thanks for not letting my fall on my face.” I mumbled as I stuffed the notebooks in my backpack.

He nodded politely, but when I looked in his eyes, I could see his sorrow. I realized how much I’d missed him. We walked away, but I called him that night.

We were back to laughing, joking around. We were friends again. We didn’t really speak about what had happened, but I felt like he respected me more. He was still dating his bimbos, of course. He still called me when he was depressed, but he didn’t expect me to feed him compliments to inflate his ego. He truly just wanted someone to talk to, and I was still happy to listen. My feelings for him were still there, but with other stuff going on, I found it easy to kind of put that on hold for the time being.

Graduation came soon after; we signed each other’s yearbooks and threw our caps in the air, but our relationship didn’t change much. We kept up phone calls almost daily. Unfortunately, the girl he was dating before graduation kept in touch with him, too.

My plans were to take a year off before going to college; Cameron had the same plans as well.

I had plans to go visit my aunt in New York that summer, and I would be gone for about 6 weeks. Cameron knew this, and a few days before I was supposed to leave, he called me.

“Hey, I’m taking you out tonight, since you’re leaving me soon,” he told me on the phone.

“Okay, but you’re paying for dinner,” I kidded him. “And we’re having steak, buddy.”

He laughed, then his tone grew more serious. “I am. I’m taking you someplace nice. I want you to get dressed up.”

I groaned. “Come on, don’t do that to me. You know I don’t like getting all dolled up.” It was the truth. I normally did wear make up and fix my hair a little, but I was still a jeans and sneakers kind of girl. Dressing up meant, well, a dress.

Cam chuckled softly. “I really want to give you a special night, so please?”

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