Page 35 of Abel

Jake didn’t think about that now did he?

“No, he sure didn’t, but I’m not Jake. I’m not a man whore.”

My feet carried me all the way to the 24-hour diner on autopilot. That’s what happens when your world is falling apart right at your fingertips. Swinging open the door, hearing the bell ding up above, I plop down into a booth.

I need to stop this.

I should just head back to Abel’s, hop back in bed and pretend this never happened.

Just as I get up from my seat, I hear tires screeching on the pavement. Rather than have them come inside, I go out and come face to face with a very angry Camden. “Do you have any idea how worried you made me?” He doesn’t let me get a word in. “I have worry lines all across my face now thanks to you, Ivy. How am I going to fix this?” Oh, here we go.

He’s about to have a bitch fit in front of a diner at 4am in the morning. Thank God Travis comes to my rescue. “Cam, honey, calm down. She’s fine, everybody’s fine. You’re fine right, Iv?”

“Yep, sexually exhausted but peachy fuckin’ keen over here.” I sniff, catching Cam’s attention.

“Oh, so, you and Mr. Hot Stuff had a night of fun. I take it?” Way to forget all about the bitch fit, Cam.

“Yeah, we did.” I sniff again. “It was everything I could have hoped for.”

“So, why are you standing out here with us and not sleeping in bed with him?” Cam asks, and I don’t know how to answer that.

“Because, this was only a one night thing, Cam.”

“Honey, the way he looked and acted with you, wasn’t giving one night stand vibes at all.” He says, coming around and pulling me into his chest. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back?”

“No, I’m not sure, but I can’t go back. I just needed to get what Jake said out of my system, and Abel helped with that. Now, I’m ready to get back to my life. Before the breakup.”

“That doesn’t seem like the right thing to do, honey.” Travis chimes in.

“Too bad. Can we get out of here, please?” I start walking towards the car and hop in the back. I’m done with answering questions.

I just want to forget about this night, and how I possibly made the biggest mistake of my life.

Three weeks have gone by since I walked out on Abel. Cam and I haven’t been back to the club since New Year’s Eve.

I’ve been working at City Harvest Food Rescue Center around the corner from Cam’s house while I figured things out and focused on my drawing and painting. I have a paper due at the end of next month for my art history class. It'll be fun to research, but still adds more to my already full plate.

I’m so engrossed in this stupid paper, that I don’t hear Cam come in until he places a tuna melt, a glass of milk, and some dill pickle flavored chips on the table beside me.

Lately, this has been my go-to comfort meal when I’m stressed out to the point of cracking. “Oh, thanks, Cam.” I say, closing mylaptop, grabbing the plate, and plopping it down on top. Holding the sandwich in my hands, salivating over how good it looks, I take a bite. “Mmmm, this is so good.” I moan, enjoying the flavors as they burst along my tongue each time I chew.

“Stop making it sound so sexual.” He says, rolling his eyes. “What are your plans for the day?”

“I dunno, probably get a headstart on this assignment. I know it’s not due for a few weeks, but I want to get it over with.” I mumble around a mouth full of food. “Why, what’s up?”

“Oh, nothing. With Travis working so much and the new semester I just need a little breather, you know?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” I say, finishing up my meal, all but licking the plate when I’m done.

“Damn, I think that’s a new record for you.” He laughs, snapping a pic.

“You and Travis really need to get a new hobby.” I grunt, trying to hide my smile, but failing miserably. “Why does it fascinate you two that I inhale my food when I’m stressed out or just super duper hungry?”

“Because, we just wonder where it all goes after you inhale it.” He says, typing out his little message to send to Travis along with the pic he just snapped. “It looks like you gained a little weight, but in all the right places. For instance,” he says, helping me stand, “your ass is PHAT, sista.” He chuckles, smacking my buns.

“Yeah, but that’s because I do squats when I’m not too tired to go to the gym.” I say in my defense. “Why are you so worried about my ass? Do you want a piece?” I ask in a very seductive voice, surprising myself.

“Eww, no, but I know who would.” He says, flopping down on the couch beside me. “Hasn’t he crossed your mind at all?”

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