Page 50 of Subscriber Wars

University CamFlix Competition Submission

Entry Number: 75

Sebastian and Valentina

Second Interview Continued, also the time Vee couldn’t keep a fucking secret

“Wow. Okay. Interesting story.” Tom looks to Vee. “How about you, Valentina? When did you know you loved Sebastian?”

I can see the evil grin stretch across Vee’s face. “Well, Tom. I think I knew he was the man of my dreams when he was shit-faced drunk, and I had to drag him to the car after he puked on the courthouse lawn.”

Tom’s brows raise. “The courthouse? Why the courthouse?”

Vee shrugs, and I groan. I know where this dreaded story is going. “You see, Tom. We had been at a party, and well, Sebastian, here, had wanted to see the stars and he insisted you could see them best on the courthouse lawn in the square.”

I interrupt. “I was really, really drunk. I wasn’t making any sense and I find it hard to believe that I gave a shit about some stars.”

“Oh but you did, honey. In fact, you told me when you were a little boy you would lay out in your yard, in awe, because that same star could be seen from all over the world.”

I’ve been up since five and jerked off twice in the shower before I decided that I needed something more physical to burn off the tension raging through my veins. Instead of going to the gym and reminiscing about the times Vee and I worked out together, I headed to the hardware store. A few hundred bucks later, I’m shirtless and sweating from the eighty-five-degree weather, but my grass is starting to look somewhat kept.

“And I thought the only thing you knew how to run was your mouth.”

I’d know that snark anywhere, even yelling over the motor of a lawnmower. I flip the switch and turn slowly, eyeing my neighbor who’s back in her own flannel shirt with a tight tank top underneath. Her shorts are high on her thighs and her boots look like they could use replacing.

“You’re trespassing,” I tell her, making sure I give her a look of boredom.

“And you’re an asshole, but let’s not get technical.” She shrugs. “I’m just stopping by to let you know that I won’t be able to meet for lunch. I have a thing.”

After the awfulness of the dance, Vee left, and we didn’t speak again until around midnight, two hours after I posted the video of us dancing and the thousands of comments that came in. The competitor in me kicked in, and I decided that with enough jerking off, I could handle being Vee’s fake boyfriend. At least until the contest was over. So I texted her.

Me: Lunch? Strategy? I promise to take my Midol.

She made me sweat for a couple of hours, but she eventually texted back.

Pretend To Like Her: Fine. You pick the place, Princess. I’d hate for us to spend it in the bathroom again.

I didn’t respond.

“What ‘thing’ do you have to do that would be more important than strategizing?” I try to keep the frustration and curiosity out of my voice.

She smirks. “Now, now. This isn’t how this game is played anymore.” She turns, intent on leaving me with the same comment I once said to her when she inquired what I was doing.

I grab her by the elbow and haul her into my sweaty chest. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going? You better not be going on some ‘save the tree frogs and their plastic ecosystems’ expedition with fucking Vance. We had an agreement.”

She pushes her palm against my chest and frowns. “Slow down, Major Douche. I’m just going to work. You know those places where broke people go to earn money?”

I narrow my eyes. “I know what a job is. The question is, why are you working? Don’t you make enough in sponsorships?”

I know I do. Seems like she would too.

“I do, but believe it or not, sometimes I like helping more than just tree frogs.”

I narrow my eyes, and she sighs. “I work with rescue dogs.”

“Dogs?” How did I not know she had a job before now? “You work at the pound or something?”

She hitches her bag up her shoulder. “No, not the pound. It’s a rescue shelter for military dogs that have lost their owners. Some don’t adjust without their owners and fall into a depression. My uncle runs it.”

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