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Adam’s nostrils flared. “If it’s not about getting raped, then what’s it about? Are you screwing someone else? That’d explain why you’re so upset about condoms.”
I turned and grabbed my jeans, yanking them on without looking for my boxers. I pulled on my T-shirt and turned to him. “AmIscrewing someone else? Me?”
Adam’s eyes flashed angrily. “Yes, you.”
“Oh, fuck you, you piece of shit.” I grabbed my camera and wallet and reached for my keys, but Adam snatched them up and held them in his fist. He was stronger than me, and his retaliatory grip hurt my arm when I tried to pry the keys loose.
I rubbed my wrist, staring into his face, amazed that I’d loved him and now it was gone.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “It could be perfect.”
“For you, maybe. Not for me.”
He spoke calmly, like I was a child. “Just trust me, Peter. I can make this right for all of us.”
“That’s the thing you don’t seem to get.” I tried to wrest my keys from him again, but he held them too tightly. I gave up. “Idon’ttrust you, Adam. Not anymore.”
His eyes went wide. “Why? I’ve done nothing but be honest with you from the start. I’ve never lied to you. Not once. You’re the only person who really knows me. You know everything.”
I shook my head.
“Name one lie,” he challenged.
“Fuck you,” I whispered. “It doesn’t matter. We’re done.”
I slammed the door and stomped down the stairs out to the courtyard. The music and laughter from the other rooms spilled into the open space like a carnival of sound. I half expected him to follow me, but he didn’t. There was no way he could without making a scene that’d get back to Leslie, and for that I was grateful.
I headed north, deeper onto campus with my camera around my neck, looking for a place where I could be alone to think about how I was going to get back home. I didn’t relish the idea of calling my mother and asking her to come get me. But what choice did I have if Adam didn’t give my keys back?
I never wanted to see Adam again. Never.
Passing by a couple holding hands and laughing, I set off down a set of steps leading to an old swimming pool, green and full of algae. I put the Minolta to my eye and took a picture. It felt soulless. Empty.
Next, I snapped a shot of clouds reflected in the dirty green of the pool. It was reflexive more than therapeutic. I gave up—my camera couldn’t capture all the angry nothingness inside me. Sweat trickled down my neck as I climbed a set of concrete steps leading to an empty ledge with a rusted metal railing.
I sat on the side and let my feet dangle, watching people pass by on the sidewalks and studying the way the leaves shifted in the soft breeze. My anger simmered below the surface, ready to bubble over, but the longer I sat, the more I noticed.
My ass was sticky from Adam lubing it. My right wrist ached from where he’d grabbed it. My throat hurt like I’d swallowed a crystal ball, and I still had no idea what I was going to do to get home.
I could go back to Adam’s dorm and demand my keys. I could threaten to tell everyone the truth if he didn’t give them to me. Maybe I could call roadside assistance to come and hot-wire it or whatever they did when someone lost their keys. I could take the bus. Or rent a car. Or I could go to the girls’ dorm and wait for Sarah and Leslie to get back. I could confess everything and destroy his relationship with Leslie too.
I buried my face in my hands. My chest hurt. Maybe I was having a slow-motion heart attack. It seemed infinitely possible.
The sun slid lower as the afternoon wore on into evening. I closed my eyes, listening to the soft rustle of the trees and the sharp bursts of song from the birds.
I needed to make a decision soon. It was going to get dark, and I couldn’t sit here all night. I could find a phone book, call a cab, and go to the airport. I could call my mom and have her book a flight back home. It’d be expensive, and we’d have to come back down to get my car…
It was a ludicrous idea.
The scrape and thud of feet came up the stairs behind me. I kept my eyes closed.
“Hey. So, I found you.”
I exhaled. It was surprisingly good to hear his voice. Mike Harris, Sarah’s boyfriend, was one of the most stand-up guys I knew. He’d help me, but I didn’t know how to ask without him finding out the truth. But maybe that didn’t matter anymore. I didn’t have to keep protecting Adam, did I?
I peered up at him. “Mike. Hey.”
He sat next to me in his faded jeans and Grateful Dead shirt, his kind eyes lined with worry. “Adam’s freaking out. He’s been all over campus looking for you.” Mike ran a hand through his dark brown hair. “He says you had a fight.”
