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“Hey!” I step back as if I’m offended and Brooklyn shrugs before we begin to walk again.
“Call it as I see it. But hey, Cam . . . you’re the one who will be hoisting thatprestigioustrophy over your head on graduation day, so what do I know?”
I scowl at her kiddingly.
“I sense sarcasm in the way you said prestigious just now. I don’t think you fully appreciate the art of sticking it to the man, which is essentially what that trophy in my hands represents. But to get to your first question, one of the books I obsessed over during that ridiculous summer of my youth was a biography about J. Paul Getty. The man bought oil low, and of course watched it go high.”
I blow on my fingertips then buff them on my tie to sell my arrogance, but Brooklyn rolls her eyes and calls me nerd.
The easy conversation stops, and we’re only halfway through our walk across campus. I’m not sure how to navigate things with her out in public. I want to show every single person who looks our way that Brooklyn and I are together. But even though she says she’s ready to confront the haters—aka her dad—I’m not sure she’s ready to do it boldly and through the Welles gossip mill.
We’re an hour and a half away from meeting up with our friends for lunch, and the thought of deciding where to sit and how to act has me completely baffled. I almost feel guilty for not holding her hand right now, which is why I’ve kept mine in my pockets for most of the walk. The best way to play this is to let Brooklyn set the rules, but there’s also this stinging sensation in my gut that is so damn afraid she’s going to want to hide us. I get her reasons if that’s what she chooses. It will hurt anyway.
Steps away from where our sidewalk literally divides, sending us in opposite directions, I start to laugh quietly to myself.
“What’s wrong?” She tilts her head as we slow our steps.
“I feel like a twelve-year-old. Do I kiss the girl? What if my breath smells? Should I hold her hand?” I lift my shoulders and shake my head at my own ridiculousness while Brooklyn’s face puzzles at me.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I know you said you don’t care what people think, but this place is full of opinions.” I give it to her plainly, familiar faces wandering in our periphery, lots of outlets to start gossip.
“Cam,” she says, reaching for my tie. She holds it in her hand then rolls it around her grip, dragging me toward her. Lifting up on her toes, she tilts her head and puckers her lips, and I softly press my smile against them.
“Your breath is fine,” she says, unfurling her hold on my tie and walking backward for a few steps as she leaves.
Chapter14
Brooklyn
Iplayed cool with Cameron, but in reality, he’s right. I’m not sure I’m ready for the barrage of opinions about us. I know I have to endure them, though, to get us to the other side. Today is the first test, and it will trigger so many more in the coming days. It won’t take long for my father to call and explain his message to me. I’m actually shocked he hasn’t called yet to talk about the fight between Cole and Cameron. Maybe Cole didn’t run to daddy to tattle, but it’s hard to believe he grew a soul in the span of a few afternoons. That call is coming too. I feel it.
I finished my computational thinking classwork early, thanks to a lifetime of Excel spreadsheet training due to my dad’s work. I know my way around a budget and polling data, so crunching numbers on pet licenses and the most popular barrows from the Boston Public Library was a bit of a cake walk.
It left me with plenty of time to think, which I suppose is what I’ve wanted.Time to think.
There is no Excel formula for the best way to tell your friends you’re crazy about the guy they think is all wrong for you, so I decided at the end of class that I was going to go into lunch with the same confidence Morgan goes into everything—a brash sense of entitlement. She’s the one I’m stressed about most, other than my father, so I may as well beat her with her own game.
I give myself a mini pep talk when I reach the end of the cafeteria checkout line. Dropping my Coach wallet into my tote bag, I then loop it on my arm and take my tray in both hands as I march defiantly toward the table where all of my friends—and Cameron—are already sitting. The only open seat at the table is next to him, which helps narrow down my first hurdle.
“Hey, what did I miss?” I say as I slide into the open space, setting my tray down and plopping onto the seat next to Cam.
“Cameron said he won the Black Tuesday trophy. That true?” Theo arches a brow at me then glances to his friend on my other side.
I pull my lips into a tight line and nod.
“It is,” I confirm.
“Dude! Nice!” Theo says, holding up a hand to high five his friend. They slap hands in front of me. “Mr. Philips is going to hate that. I bet he calls in sick for the graduation ceremony.”
“Good thing I know where he lives, then, so I can getthephoto.” Cameron takes a French fry from my plate and pops it into his mouth, snapping his teeth closed before grinning. I give him a sideways look for stealing my food and slap his hand when he does it again.
My eyes drift to Morgan beyond his shoulder, her glare purposefully emotionless but trained on me. She’s taking mental notes; I’ve known her long enough to know her tells. She’s gathering her facts and forming her arguments to support her already made-up opinion. It’s times like these that I truly miss Anika’s voice amongst our group. She was the only one who seemed able to show Morgan her flaws without drawing out her claws.
Cameron and Theo are mid-conversation about tomorrow’s game, and James is sitting across the cafeteria wearing the same expression Morgan is, only his focus is on her. I’m not sure what is up with those two, but I can’t help but think that her own drama is spilling over into her opinion of mine.
Okay, Morgan. If you’re looking for something to judge me for, I’ll give it to you.
“Excuse me,” I say, using Cameron’s shoulder to step up from my seat. I let my hand linger on his arm for an extra second then drag my fingertips around his neck as I pass behind him and head toward the napkin dispenser. I can feel his eyes on me, charged and maybe a little happy that I broke the seal on our secret. I also feel Morgan’s, though, and when I turn around with two napkins I don’t need, my eyes meet hers and I swear they are swimming with disapproval.
