I was an idiot.
A heartbroken idiot.
Worse, I was a mean, heartbroken idiot.
I had been so horrible to Angela that I completely deserved the M-label I was slapping on myself. I wish I could say that being mean like that was uncharacteristic of me, but there were a few times in my life where I'd get so angry and mad at my brother that I'd throw the most horrible things at him. Thankfully, those moments where I felt all control slip and my moral compass go haywire were few and far between now. But, evidently, they weren't quite extinct yet.
I'm punishing myself and wallowing in my guilt from how I treated Angela because right now that pain is surprisingly the lesser of the two that I'm currently dealing with. Because being angry at myself is a hell of a lot easier than being mad at Taylor.
Besides, I need a good distraction from what's on my computer screen.
When I got home from school a few hours ago, my mom wasn't home from work and my dad was working on something in the basement. Instead of going downstairs to greet him like I usually would have, I called out that I'd be in my room studying. He called back cheerfully, not suspecting a thing.
That may have changed when he heard the door to my room slam.
Even as mad as I was, I immediately washed my hands in the small bathroom attached to my bedroom because there's no way I could use public transportation and not do that as soon as I got home. While I was at it, I threw cool water onto my face.
It didn't work.
I was still there, and this wasn't a dream.
More like a nightmare.
My head was angry but my body was numb. It was a disconcerting combination. I was used to that feeling of boiling blood whenever I was upset, the tense muscles that refused to relax. But now, it was like all bodily sensations were shut down. I wasn't hungry and that was saying a hell of a lot considering I always came home from school ravenous.
I yanked my laptop out of its power cord in a way that my dad would get mad at me for, saying that he wasn't going to pay for a new one if I broke it.
There are bigger issues right now, Daddy.
Yeah, one of them being that I'm having conversations with you in my head.
As if on autopilot, I opened Google and typed in the stupidest thing that has ever been Google searched.
"Taylor Hudson sex"
God.
Stop.
What was I doing? What was I trying to find? Why?
Why was I trying to find evidence that Taylor had in factâ. Never mind, I can't even say it. It was too preposterous, too hurtful for me to finish that sentence.
Besides, I knew the truth, and I knew Taylor.
Taylor Hudsonâthe one I knew, the one I lovedâwouldn't sleep with me at the same time he was sleeping with other girls.
There, I said it. And yeah, it hurt like a bitch.
There was one thing in the back of mind that was replaying on repeat.
Angela wouldn't lie to me.
Angela wouldn't lie to me.
But would Taylor?
Maybe Lawson had gotten it wrong. I mean, who really knows what he saw or what was said. You know how these broken telephone games go. The thing the first person said and the thing the last person heard are so often not the same thing.
Still. In a situation like this, how exactly could you get it mixed up?
No, Taylor wasn't having sex with them, he was having dex!
Right, because that makes oodles of sense.
Too bad, I did it. I pressed enter and quickly scanned all the Google results.
Please don't let there be links to pornography of someone who shared a similar name.
Luckily, I didn't get any of those, at least not in the first few sites. Those sitesâin fact, the whole first pageâshowed various Tumblr domains that all had something in common - the presence of the phrase puck bunny.
That term was cringe. I had heard of it before, but I didn't particularly care for it. I'm not sure where it had come from, but the general consensus was that it was used to describe girls who watched hockey because they wanted to hookup with the players. As a woman who was genuinely into the game, I can honestly say that I have no problem with them. If you find hockey players hot, more power to you. And if you want to have sex with as many as you can, good for you.
Seriously. They weren't hurting anyone.
Except me if any of them slept with Taylor.
No, we weren't going there yet. I wasn't even sure that was true.
Feeling like I had no other choice, I clicked the first blog and read through it. It didn't take longer than ten seconds for me to realize that the page consisted of anonymous users asking the blogger about particular players, some I heard of and some I didn't.
If he was single.
What he's like in bed.
If he's into anal.
Alrighty then. I didn't see Taylor's name and my insides unclenched. But because that first page was a small sample, I typed his name into the search tool.
What can I say? Turns out I'm a masochist at heart.
A few posts came up and I almost knocked my head into my screen trying to get closer to them.
It took me three tries to read the first one because my mind felt so jumbled with anticipation.
Someone asked if she knew if Taylor had a girlfriend and the blogger responded that he didn't, not that she knew of, anyways.
Okay, at lease we were on the same page with that one.
The next one asked something similar, but the blogger had a different response this time. Turns out she was based in Philly and didn't know much about Taylor but she recommended checking out saints-bunny for more information about him.
And I did.
And then quickly wished I didn't.
The blog was pretty much just about Taylor. That's who all the messages and posts were about.
Maybe people just found him attractive. I knew that feeling all too well.
Or maybe they were curious about him. He was a great player for their city, after all.
But maybe, just maybe, they wanted to jump on his dick.
An anonymous user said it, not me.
I scrolled down a few, seeing more of the same. People writing in that they thought Taylor was hot, fuckable, all that fun stuff. Every once in a while, someone would say that they didn't get the hype, but they were in the minority.
Okay. Time to reflect on what I was reading.
All this confirmed was that girls wanted to sleep with Taylor. Fair enough. Nowhere did it say that they did.
I was about to exit the blog when one post caught my eye.
Q: If I wanted to hookup with Taylor H, how should I try?
A: Just shoot your shot! He's pretty approachable if you see him in public but you can also try sending him a message through social media. That's how my friend was able to hookup with him.
The next one:
Q: You have a friend who hooked up with him? Spill the deets!
A: Haha, she didn't tell me too much. He's massive, apparently, and really sweet and gentle. He took her out for dinner beforehand, paid, and was just an all-around good guy.
And another one:
Q: What does your friend look like? I want to know if I have a shot!
A: She's really tall, beautiful, blonde. Most of the girls he hooks up do tend to look like this, to be honest.
Then she mentioned some names of girls I had never heard of and links to their social media profiles. My self-esteem took an absolute nosedive. And it wasn't high to begin with. All these girls were in fact, tall, blonde, and beautiful. I was short, brunette, and at most, cute.
Compared to these girls, Taylor sleeping with me must have been a charity case.
Wait.
Did this mean I was taking what these blogs were saying as gospel? I mean, who on earthâno, who on hellâwas this blogger and what did she know?
Maybe these sites weren't enough to convince me of Taylor's antics but they weren't the only source I had.
And Angela wouldn't lie to me.
One thing that was undisputable was that if Taylor did want a hookup he had no shortage of willing women.
My god. I felt destroyed. Absolutely destroyed.
What was wrong with me?
No, no, no. I wasn't going to immediately put the blame on myself. I could deal with myself later. Right now, I only had the energy to be mad at Taylor.
I was in love with that boy, dammit!
The door to my bedroom suddenly opened and my dad walked through, smiling.
"Hey, Camille. I brought you the last bit of Diet Coke." He carried the glass filled with brown liquid and ice cubes to my side table and smiled at me. Then he immediately wiped it off. "What's wrong?"
"Hmm?" I played innocent. "Nothing, why?"
"You seem upset. What's going on?"
My father, although uninvited, took it upon himself to sit on the bedâmy bedânext to me.
"Really?" I was terrible at playing dumb. He nodded. "I'm just stressed for one of my assignments. I got feedback on my essay topic and the professor wants me to change it but I already put so much effort into it."
What I said was actually true, it just obviously wasn't what I was worrying about in that moment.
"That doesn't sound too bad! I know you, Buddy. I know this is where you thrive!"
I suddenly wanted to cry. I loved my dad so much and it was a mistake for me to love any man other than him.
And Thomas.
And my nephews, but they're technically boys.
"Thanks, Daddy. I'm just going to get back to work," I told him.
He stood up. "Okay, and that's my cue to leave! I'm going, I'm going. I'll see you at dinner. Mom's making penne."
I nodded and tried to smile. If I spoke my voice would be too emotional and my father would definitely know that something more was up.
As soon as the door closed, I looked back at my screen and tortured myself by reading those posts over again.
The situation was one giant clusterfuck of a heart break. In so many ways, on so many levels.
I loved Taylor but he didn't feel the same way.
He didn't feel the same way.
I knew that now.
That wasn't even the worst part.
Because if he had just slept with other girls, it would've hurt like a kick to the petunias, but I would've been able to accept it, eventually.
It would've been a painful dummy whammy, finding out that he didn't love me and that he was so easily able to find girls other than me that he found attractive.
But that wasn't all. He slept with me. He slept with me.
At the same time that he was sleeping with others.
All the time I spent thinking that I was special to him just proved I was idiot. I was only one of many, just like Angela said.
If I had known that Taylor thought I was no more special to him than any other girl he could fuck, then that also would have really sucked.
But do you want to know the kicker, the real kicker that is the worst of it all?
He allowed me to sleep with him not knowing about all the others.
He allowed me to believe whatever I wanted.
He allowed me to be used.
I let out a deep sigh, but it did little to calm the storm inside me. Not a single tear fell from my eyes. I was much too numb for that.
I needed answers. I deserved answers.
And Taylor was going to give them to me.
The plane tickets were bought weeks ago. It didn't matter that Angela and I weren't talking to each other at the moment. We were stuck sitting next to each other.
As part of our psychology program, all students who were completing a senior thesis were invited to a research conference in Toronto. The chair of the department, who also served as the coordinator of the thesis class, made it pretty much mandatory for us to attend. Considering the school was covering the cost of the flight, I didn't mind. The conference was only nine to four pm, so we had a few hours to ourselves before we had to meet back at the airport for eight o'clock. (It wasn't the easiest flight to do twice in one day but when the alternative was to cover hotel rooms for thirty students, the department had no other choice.)
With my stomach rolling and my mood bleak, I wasn't feeling at all like I how predicted I would feel. As soon as I received confirmation about the conference a few days after I returned from Toronto, I told Taylor, and we arranged to meet up. We'd only have an hour together, but we were going to take it.
You better believe I still planned on seeing him. But instead of doing whatever the hell Taylor had planned, we were going to have an honest discussion at his condo.
I was dreading it and yet it couldn't come fast enough. The sooner I got the truth from the man himself, the sooner I'd stop feeling sick. Hopefully.
As if on cue, the contents of my stomach sloshed. Shit. I so did not need to throw up on this flight. I threw my hand to my stomach as if that would calm it down.
"You okay?" Angela asked, closing her novel.
"Just a little nauseous," I admitted.
These were the first two sentences we had said to each other since I left her dorm room like I madwoman.
You know, after I called the best friend I've ever had a bitch.
"Here, take one."
Angela held out a small white and green box and offered it to me. I nodded, took the box from her, and popped one of the chewable Gravol into my mouth.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
I didn't say anything else and I angled my body away from her. I still felt so awful for how I treated her, and I probably would for the rest of my life. I couldn't take her kindness right now, because I didn't deserve it. Even though Angela probably had no idea why I was giving her the silent treatment, she didn't try to initiate any conversation.
The day was long, but it also went by in a blur. We sat in on various lectures, had small group meetings about the different fields of psychology, met more scientists than I could count, and ate breakfast, lunch, and an early dinner. I hated networking events on a good day so I really couldn't be assed to deal with it all today.
A few minutes after the clock struck four pm, and not a minute too soon, Dr. Greystein, the chair of the psychology department, officially dismissed the group. She gave instructions about where to meet and when but I tuned her out.
Blah blah blah. There was somewhere important I needed to be.
The convention centre was located in downtown Toronto and only a five-minute walk to Taylor's condo.
I was being furbo, which was Italian for sneaky little bitch. Or something like that.
I had told Taylor to pick me up at the centre at four forty-five but my intention was to just show up at his door. I knew he'd never let me wander the city by myself, so I had to play the game. I texted him the night before to confirm, and it had nearly killed me at how I had to act like nothing was out of the ordinary.
It would've been faster to take an Uber but I wanted the walk to clear my head and reenergize myself after the draining day.
And thank god for my GPS app which updated itself in real time. It was the only reason why I did end up at the condo within the promised five minutes.
I had spent the past few days and nightsâespecially the nightsâplaying in my mind what'd I say. How I'd act. I ran through the spiel once more in the elevator ride, even though I knew that the confrontation wasn't going to go like it at all.
I'd probably burst into tears the second I saw Taylor.
It wasn't until I was walking up to his door that it actually hit me. Holy shit. I was about to see Taylor.
I knocked on the door and then a few seconds later, knocked again, because I wasn't sure if my first knock was loud enough.
When the door opened from the other side and Taylor revealed himself, I could see the exact moment that Taylor registered that it was me standing there.
His entire face lit up, his lips smiled, his eyes brightened, and his whole face got its colour back.
Too bad I already knew his true colours.
Show time.
"Surprise!" I said.
Taylor pulled me into his arms and hugged me tightly. "I'll say! What're you doing here? I was going to leave to pick you up soon. I'm surprised you could find the place by yourself."
I could feel his laugh in my neck. Things already weren't going according to plan. My intention was to chew him out as soon as I saw him. I didn't expect for him to sweep me away. Again. I didn't remove my arms, though. I let myself hug Taylor just as long and hard as he was hugging me.
Because it might be our last one.
"Come inside. Are you hungry or thirsty?"
I walked in and took off my boots. He had cleaners and I didn't want to make their lives miserable just because the tenant made mine miserable.
"I'm good. We just ate," I told him.
I actually didn't eat too much because that nauseous feeling kept with me on and off. I mainly stuck to carbs to try to settle it.
"How was it?"
I looked at Taylor. How could he look the exact same yet so different? He was in his casual clothes, stuff I had seen him wear so often before. The clothes hadn't changed, but maybe the person wearing them had.
"Boring. You don't want to hear about it. Do you mind if I see your room? I've been dreaming about that view ever since I saw it," I lied.
Hah. Do you believe that that weekend was only two weeks ago? I didn't.
"Uh, yeah, sure. I didn't think we'd have time to make a dinner reservation, so I didn't plan too much. We could hang out here and talk or go for a walk or shop, whatever you want, just letâ"
Taylor's sentence trailed off. As he spoke he had followed me into his room. He stopped talking when he saw me open the top drawer of his bedside table.
I was silent.
He was silent.
The room was silent.
Of course it was, because when a heart breaks, it breaks silently.
I can't tell you how hard I hoped that this condom box, this damn box, would be nearly full. Ideally, only one should be missing, right? From when he used one with me.
Instead, I stared at a near empty box. It was a pack of twelve and three remained.
Holy fuck.
Break.
Break.
Break.
Do not cry.
Do not cry.
Do not cry.
"What're you... what're you doing?" Taylor asked. He sounded so far away.
I shrugged and didn't bother to answer his question. I tried to open my mouth and say something. Anything.
It's almost empty.
You fucking asshole!
Why wasn't I enough?
None of those things were said. I just looked at him as I tried to bear the unbelievable wash of pain that crashed over my body.
It's funny how we try to lie to ourselves, isn't it? I already knew that Taylor sleeping with others was real. At least that's what I thought. It wasn't until I felt that crushing disappointment when I saw the box that I realized that part of me still thought he wouldn't do this to me.
"Camille, are you okay?" Again, so far away.
I had never been less okay, actually.
"I feel so destroyed," I admitted in a small voice, more to myself than to him.
And yet, no tears.
Taylor's face recoiled like I slapped him, like he was actually feeling even a fraction of the pain and betrayal I felt.
"Camille, talk to me," he begged. "Why do you feel like that?"
As if he had no idea, none at all.
"Because I haven't been the only girl you slept with since you've been in Toronto," I said emotionlessly, not meeting his gaze.
Taylor opened his mouth but I stuck my hand out. I didn't want to hear him say it. I didn't want to hear anything he had to say unless I asked him a question. And I had a lot of those.
"Why would you sleep with me when I wouldn't be the only one? Why? Why would you do that to me? Why would you think I would be okay with that?"
"I...I...I'm so sorry," Taylor said, bringing his hands to his hair. "I didn't mean for you to get hurt."
"Then what did you mean? You can't be an idiot, Taylor," I told him, my voice rising in volume and emotion. "You have to know that I felt something for you. That if we did that, that it would mean something to me."
I didn't tell him I loved him, and I didn't plan to. He didn't deserve it.
"Camille," he began, looking at me with wide eyes and speaking with a steady voice, "I'm so sorry that you thought what was between us was more than friendship or exclusive."
Holy shit. Another wound I'd have to nurse much later. Right now, I was in survival mode.
"I'm not sure what made you think that, but I'm sorry I did it," he finished.
I shook my head. Back and forth, back and forth, like a crazy person.
"You knew. You knew! You knew, so don't lie to me!" I was on the verge of screaming. "Because if you didn't think I felt that way, you would have been honest with me. You would have told me exactly what this thing was, instead of letting me believe what I wanted. Believe that you care about me."
Taylor took a few steps toward me but we still remained a few feet apart.
"Camille, I do care about you. You know how much you mean to me." His mouth closed as soon as he said that. Even he knew how stupid that sounded now.
"No, Taylor, you care about yourself. Because I'll tell you exactly what you were doing. You wanted it all. You wanted my friendship, you wanted to have sex with random girls, and you wanted it with me, too. So, you did what you had to do to get it. And now I'm out of your system and you think that things can go back to normal between us, but they won't."
When I finished talking, my breathing was heavy. I could see my chest heaving even as I stared straight ahead.
"Camille, I'm so sorry. I fucked up." His voice broke. He actually sounded sorry. "I regret it. I regret sleeping with you, because it wasn't worth hurting you."
Bang. Another blow.
And more proof that I'm an idiot. Because I thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd admit that he was in love with me this whole time and that he tried with other girls but they weren't me.
Nah.
My stomach continued to roll and I was almost certain that I was going to hurl.
Yeah, I was.
I ran the few feet to his ensuite and emptied my stomach into the sink. Shit. Thankfully Taylor didn't try to touch me or comfort me. Once I had rinsed my mouth, I walked back to his room. He was waiting for me with a bottle of blue Gatorade in his hands.
I took it because it's the least he could fucking do.
I took a sip, wiped my mouth, then looked at Taylor Hudson's sorry face.
"Goodbye, Taylor."
I stormed out of his condo and heard him follow me all the way. When I threw open the door, I found Angela standing there.
Jesus.
"What're youâ"
"I figured."
She had come for me. For the first time all day, I cried. My tears really were a walking time bomb.
I could feel Taylor's presence standing behind me in his entrance. Angela was glaring at him.
"Ang, I want to go," I whispered.
"Yeah, I know, one thing."
I looked up at her in shock but she gave me a reassuring look.
"Get this one thing straight," she said, practically yelling at Taylor. "Camille has one best friend, and its me!"