We're Doin' Alright

Cameron's POV

The phone rang obnoxiously for what must’ve been the fourth time in the past five minutes. Could it possibly be morning already? No. The sound isn’t that of my phone’s alarm. Someone was calling. I groaned and rolled over to glance at the illuminated digital clock that sat on the dresser across the room. The time read 1:45 am. Who would be calling me at this time of night? I sat up on my bed and rested my weight on my left arm so I could lean over my headboard to see my phone on the nightstand. Right as I caught a glimpse of the unknown number flashing on the screen of my vibrating piece of crap, the ringtone cut off sending the mystery caller to voicemail. I sighed and was about to rest my head once again on my pillow when the phone restarted its annoying vibrating and ringing combo. “Bloody hell,” I muttered under my breath as I picked up the phone. I glared at the unfamiliar number before deciding to just answer it instead of letting it ring again. “Hello?” I spoke.
“Awww. Is that an accent I hear? How cute is that?” a familiar voice slurred into the phone.
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Sage?” his name fell off my lips, accent still present in my sleepy stupor.
He giggled over the phone before speaking again (or should I say slurring). “No, really, stop. You’re killing me. British accents are so cool. I wish I had a British accent. I could say ‘fancy’ like you do! That’d be so awesome! Right, Cameron?”
I ran a hand over my face, wondering what the hell is wrong with him. “How did you even get my number?”
“I got it from Sabrina, silly! We were at a party but, but… then I lost her, so I left,” he started with a laughing tone but finished quietly and almost sad.
Party? On a Tuesday night? Only Sage and Sabrina would pull something like that. I rolled my eyes. Oh, the people I befriend. I shifted my phone to the other ear and stood from the bed turning on my bedside light. “Are you drunk, Sage?” I asked monotonously, already knowing the answer.
There was silence on the other side before he made a “psssssssssssssh” noise and sputtered into uncontrollable laughter. When he finally settled down, he said through gasps and giggles, “Yup.”
Running my hand through my hair, not really knowing what to do in this situation, I paced my room. “Where are you?” I asked after hearing faint sounds of the outdoors.
“In front of your house.” I stopped dead in my tracks. I would suspect he was saying this as a joke or out of drunken stupidity; however, something in his tone made me rush out of my room and to the living room window where Sage was in clear sight laying in front of the big tree. Every so often he would pick up a handful of grass and throw it into the air and allow it to float down on his face.
My eyes widened. “What the fuck,” I breathed. “How the hell did you know where I lived?”
“’Cause I’m your stalker,” again he used a serious tone, but it was quickly broken as he burst into laughter and began rolling on the ground while clutching his stomach.
At this point, I didn’t even know what was going on anymore. My brain had just sort of stopped attempting to process what was happening and before I knew it, I was hanging up the phone and placing it in my pyjama pocket. Knowing I would awaken my parents if I opened the front door, I slid open the window. My subconscious was fully aware of how stupid I was being, but something compelled me to go outside and join the drunken idiot on my front lawn. I pushed the screen out of the way and climbed out feet first, landing safely only hitting my head once. I looked over the tall bushes to find Sage still laying by the tree and speaking into his phone.
“Cameron? Hello? Did you hang up on me? Y’know, that’s not nice, Cam,” he babbled as I walked over to him. I stood and listened to him for a moment before sitting down on my knees next to him. The nighttime dew on the grass seeped through my pyjamas and the cold February air started to get to me.
I released an exasperated sigh and asked, “Why are you here, Sage?” Wrong move number one: Informing Sage I was next to him.
The intoxicated man-child snapped his head towards me before jumping up and tackling me to my back in a bone crushing hug. “Cameron! I didn’t know you were there! Were you standing next to me the whole time?” he inquired (still laying on me might I add).
“No, Sage. I haven’t,” I gasped out. He wasn’t that heavy, but he really was making it difficult to breathe at the moment. “Now, will you please get off me so I can breathe?” He rolled off to the left and lay there, looking at the sky. “Again, why did you come here?”
He shrugged. “I had nowhere else to go. I lost Sabrina and Steph’s mad at me,” he replied in a child-like voice and pouted.
“Why didn’t you just go home?” I questioned honestly.
“I can’t,” he answered, still in the small voice.
“And why not?” I challenged.
He hesitated before answering, “I can’t tell you,” in a voice near to a whisper. His tone had changed and he seemed to become sobered up.
I sat up to give him a questioning look, but he wasn’t looking at me. He held a stare down with the sky instead, eyes misty and pained and mouth set in a distinct frown that looked strange on his usually smiling, more of smirking, face. All previous intentions of forcing him to go home exiting my mind, I tapped Sage’s shoulder. He turned his head to me; a single tear rolling down his cheek that I’m sure he didn’t even realize was there. “Come on, then,” I spoke standing from the ground.
“Come where?” He asked.
“Inside of course. We’re not sleeping outside. ‘S far too cold,” I smiled and held out my hand.
A miniscule smile cracked his features as he took my hand and rose from the ground, stumbling a bit when I let him go. I wrapped my arm around the still immensely intoxicated Sage, walked him to the window, and helped him tumble through it. I followed shortly after him, putting a finger to my lips as to remind him to stay quiet. He nodded and trailed behind me as I walked to my room. “Are you going to need pyjamas?” I asked when the door was securely shut. I turned around to see Sage spread out over my bed with his hands covering his eyes.
“How come you’re talking all British-like?” he uttered against his arm.
I raised an eyebrow. Hadn’t we already gone over this? “Because I’m British?” I more of questioned than answered.
“Nooooo. That’s not what I meant,” his words were slow and ran together as if they were one big word. “I mean,” he sighed and removed his hands from his face and flopped them down on the bed for emphasis. “Why don’t you talk like that at school? At school, you… you sound like everyone else… and… and it’s all very confusing,” he looked to me with one of the most adorable pouts.
“I guess that’s why then. At school I hear all the American accents and I just sorta pick up on it. I’ve been living in America and France for the past three years so I’ve kinda picked up on your accent. But when I’m around my parents, because I’ve lived in England my whole life, my English accent comes out. Plus, it’s much easier to speak in for me. This way, I don’t have to think about it. I have to think before I speak to sound American,” I rambled.
“What’s the point of trying to sound American? I mean, why not just be you? And you’re English, so you have an English accent, so why not talk like it?” Well, damn. For a drunken person, Sage sure is perceptive.
“I guess it’s just an easier way to fit in,” I told him as I sat next to him on the bed.
“Well, that’s just stupid,” he voiced as he leaned his head on my shoulder. “I like your accent. It’s cute.” At that, I looked down at him, raising an eyebrow as I did so. Did he really just call me cute? He looked back at me, his lips adorning that infamous smirk of his. His hands found my chest slowly and gently, he pushed me down to a laying position, straddling my hips as he did so.
“Sage?” I got no response other than his hands taking mine and pulling them above my head. “Sage, what the hell are you-“ I was abruptly cut off by his soft lips brushing against mine. It was short and chaste, but still there enough to leave me confused. “Sage, seriously. What the hell?” I asked as he blankly stared at me.
His emotionless face fell as he began giggling. “Shhh!” he put a finger to my lips before replacing it with his lips, this time not so innocent. I tried for several moments to push him away, but to no avail. He’s a hell of a lot stronger than you would think. Eventually, I gave up trying to get him off of me. Let’s be honest. Did I really want him to stop kissing me like this? Hell fucking no. I was enjoying this moment thank you very much.
He kissed down my jaw to my neck stopping every once in a while to bite and suck lightly, which in turn caused embarrassing noises to rise from the back of my throat. After several moments, he pulled away and looked at me. Literally, just looked at me. No emotion. If anything, it just turned me on more. I wanted to pull his face to mine and kiss him with so much force and passion. I wanted so badly to pull him flush against me until not even the smallest of dust mites could come between us. But I knew, I shouldn’t do anything at all. I had to remember, Sage isn’t gay and that little tidbit of information scared me out of initiating an action of any sort. I didn’t want to make a wrong move and have him leave me or hate me. At least this way, I can’t be put to blame for anything he’s done because he’s initiated it all.
Unfortunately for me, our moment came to an end anyways when he rolled off of me to lie beside me. I looked at him so badly wanting to ask why he stopped, but decided against it, and turned my head back up to the ceiling.
I felt Sage’s soft fingers running over my neck and turned my head to look at him as though he were absolutely bonkers. “I left a mark,” he uttered quietly retracting his hand slowly.
“Well, then I guess I’m wearing a scarf tomorrow,” I chuckled. Recommend
He nodded while yawning, reminding me of small child. He reached his hand up run his fingertips over the mark once again, his hand roaming down my chest, causing a shiver to run through me, and back up to caress my face. He brought my lips to his in a sweet and simple kiss before lying back down and falling asleep.
I stared at him while he slept for a bit before realizing how creepy and stalkerish it was (although he was the one who knew where I lived without me giving him the slightest clue).
I turned my attention back to the ceiling where the fan was spinning slowly and allowed myself to think. This is the second time Sage had kissed me in the past two weeks. One of the times in which he was drunk, the other… who knows the reasoning behind that. It made me wonder, does he do this often when he’s drunk? I mean, who says I’m special? How do I know it wasn’t just a coincidence that he just wanted someone to make out with and I just happened to be there? But then again, why would he come to my house of all the bloody places he could’ve gone to? And wouldn’t he go to a girl’s house if he really just wanted someone to kiss? But that just might be me and my hopeful thinking.
This was all quickly becoming very confusing and was making my brain hurt. Or if you prefer the more common and intelligent term, it was causing a headache.
I laid there, deep in thought for at least half an hour before falling asleep, cuddled up to the infamous Sage Rivera.