Camila pov
II saw him for the first time in September. His eyes were like chocolate milk, and his smile was so soft I could rest my head on it at night. His skin—a light caramel. His hair—a tangle of brown curls. He stood at 5'11". I watched him from a distance, wanting to speak but couldn't. I choked down my words and kept quiet, hoping my constant gaze was not noticed.
I didn't even know his name—I honestly had no idea what it was. My eyes just followed him. He occasionally glanced in my direction, but nothing lasting. What was I even doing? Staring at a stranger on the street?
He was obviously a student—he wore a uniform from a local school. He was laughing and messing around with his friends. That was none of my business.
I had other things to do. I wasn't some stupid 17-year-old girl who was going to get distracted by a pretty face. This wasn't love—it was plain infatuation, one I did not need.
Eventually, I kept my thoughts to myself and walked away. I had to get home; I had exams fast approaching.
Not that it made much sense—the moment I got home, I was met with a flood of accusatory messages from my so-called boyfriend, Deron, who had been conveniently missing all day, but somehow found the nerve to contact me with an accusatory tone.
I was on trial, apparently, for spending time with my male friends and not caring about him—after he had stood me up on several occasions to spend time with his girl best friend.
To say I was mildly annoyed would be an understatement. I had been in a relationship with him for the past year and a half. I'd had a crush on him since I was 14. I never did anything or said anything about it until I was 16.
I didn't see the point of a relationship at 14—I was just a kid with a crush and grades that needed improvement. Nevertheless, he claimed he liked me too, despite pursuing several of my friends.
I honestly have no idea what I was thinking. They say love is blind, and well... I wear glasses. But I must have been deaf and dumb too.
I frankly had no problem with her or with him having a girl best friend. My problem lay with his audacity—and the accusations I faced more often than not, despite his constant promises to do better.
I was left standing alone for an hour at the mall before he called to cancel. Or that one—or maybe three—times he left me waiting at lunch.
I was getting tired. Not physically, but emotionally.
I was drained, and I didn't really have anyone to talk to. My half-brother is 15 years older, and my mom is a businesswoman with little time to spare. Don't get me wrong—us three, we're a great family. But I'd rather keep stuff to myself.
I let my emotions out in writing poems, but there's only so much that can do. This was getting too much to handle. I needed to end this relationship, one way or another.
I decided to seek advice from people I thought were my friends. That later proved to be a mistake. Where I thought I would find support, I found insults and betrayal.
I was told by my so-called friend that if I decided to break up with Deron, I would hurt him—that he loved me—and that I was just ungrateful. That I should be happy he loved me.
I didn't expect my choice to be welcomed with enthusiasm, especially since we shared the same group of friends—but this was outrageous.
I can't believe it took me this long to see.
This was not the first time I'd been met with a response like that in situations involving him. On several occasions, I chose to swallow my feelings.
But I was getting tired of that too.