And now for a peek into Cameron's mind after she and Chase were caught in the closet by House. And guess what? I don't own them! Big shock, right?
He caught us. Shit. No. Finally. No. I don't know. Did I want him to catch us? If I believed in God I might say, 'Good Lord, how did I get into this mess?"
Actually the answer to that is simple. Its Forman's fault. I would have continued living like a nun—minus the praying and candle lighting of course—for, oh I don't know, forever? Or at least until my fellowship ends. But no. He had to go and remind me what I was missing, namely a sex life, which as he pointed out I could easily get. He was proved true when I propositioned Chase a little while later, and so it started.
Actually that is being childish, it is my fault. I knew exactly what I was doing when I propositioned Chase that night. I am not a naive teenager; I knew the ramifications of a no-strings-attached sexual relationship. I was willing to accept them, I didn't count on Chase falling for me of course, but that is an issue for another psychoanalyzation.
The most pressing matter at hand is how to deal with House having seen us, and how I feel about that. Part of me is happy, maybe I wanted it all along. Maybe I was using Chase for more than physical gratification. Maybe I was using him to make House jealous, Chase certainly thought so sometimes, and he is smarter than House gives him credit for.
Why would I do that? I am over House. I told Chase that, over and over again. Well, maybe the saying about the person who protests too much is true…But I am over him! Though I did enjoy the hell out of kissing him. Damn hormones.
But that kiss. It was so hot. And he kissed back! House kissed me back! That has to count for something. And I wasn't imagining it! It was an open mouth, tongue dueling, kiss. I'd do it again if I had the chance, and something tells me so would he. I think he was actually disappointed when he discovered I had an ulterior motive for kissing him.
I wonder what House thought about Chase and me together. Was he disappointed? In me? Because he feels that he lost out? Or, please no—happy that I seem to have moved on? I hope not. That would mean that he had given up on me—us. If he really ever thought we had a chance. And maybe I am still that naïve sixteen year old, but I think he did.
So that's where psychoanalyzation will get me, it figures, right back at square one. Good thing I didn't go into psychiatry.