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“Much better,” she says as I slip the reports into the folder in front of her. My dad will never see this, but it’s fine.
“If you don’t mind sending me an email when you give this to your father . . .”
“Of course,” I say through a courtesy smile. I stand quickly and move toward the exit, anxious to show myself out. My mouth is dry, which is inconvenient because I need my voice to work forall these damn questions I have!
I beat Ashley to the door, opening it for myself, which seems to fluster Caroline. I hope she doesn’t scold Ashley for not sprinting to get there first. I offer a polite wave over my shoulder and practically skip down the steps toward the library for one final inspection.
I would need a ladder to reach the window Cameron uses to slip into the archive room, and I’m too embarrassed to shout his name from outside. I should have kept Theo’s key, but I also didn’t want any evidence pointing to me in case someone learned Cameron and I were in there. Doing . . . what we did.
Defeated, I decide the best thing to do is actually study, or at least pretend to. My laptop is in my tote bag, so I maybe I can knock out my computational homework. It takes me longer than a lot of other students in our class to work through the Excel formulas, so I guess I may as well hide from my roommate and get caught up.
Mid-terms are soon, so it’s a little more crowded than I’m used to in here. Most students escape to the city on the weekends unless tests are coming up. I pass through the crowded tables and computer stations, pausing to visit the giant goldfish that we all call Bert before slipping into the stacks. If the chairs in the back are all taken, I can always find a quiet row near the reference books to make myself comfortable on the floor.
The first chair I come to is my favorite, so I pull the leather binder from my tote bag and fling it into the open seat, not bothering to glance at the ones behind it. I don’t even notice Cameron staring at me, in fact, until I sit down and prop my legs up on the small table covered in books others have left behind.
I freeze the moment our eyes meet, and the only word I seem to be able to muster isoh. Cameron doesn’t speak at all. My chest hurts, and the conflicting noises in my head pummel me. I want to know everything all at once.Why haven’t you called me back? Texted? Where have you been? What happened yesterday? Are you okay? Are the Powells really your grandparents?
I don’t say any of it, though. Because tears are sliding down Cameron’s cheeks. I get up from my seat and move to the space between his knees, resting my palms on his thighs as his head falls forward to rest against mine and his hands cup my cheeks. He exhales a stuttered breath, and my heart cracks into a million pieces. He’s hurting, and none of that other stuff matters.
“Tell me,” I say. And maybe that tiny command is enough to cover everything. For Cameron, it seems to be everything. His weight shifting forward, I sit on the ground as he falls into me, all arms and shaking chest, his mouth muffled by the crook of my neck as he cries so hard I worry maybe he won’t be able to stop.
Chapter17
Cameron
Four Hours Earlier
“Wow, you look like hell.”
Sadly, this is not the first time Theo has said those exact words to me. Probably because this is not the first time I have woken up on the floor halfway through our door after passing out drunk. It’s been a while, but still, not a first.
I roll onto my back and work to pry my lips apart. They fused together crooked on account of my face being mashed into the floor for the last . . .wait, what time is it?
I groan as Theo steps over me on his way into our room. I flatten my palms on the floor on either side and sit up, the world tilting with me. My hand grips the door jamb and I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the rotating to stop.
“What time is it?”
“It’s seven. Still early, if you want to crawl your ass in here and sleep the rest of whatever that is off,” he says, drawing an invisible circle with his finger around my body.
I rub my face, trying to make sense of what seven means.
“Are you coming in? Or going out?”
I don’t remember making it to my dorm. I do remember an excessive number of shots with Conner and Wade from the team out of the back of Wade’s pickup. And I vaguely remember Wade trying to talk us all into heading into the woods to go camping, despite the fact we had zero equipment. I’m not sure whether they ended up going or not, but I had enough sense to skip that last shot—not that skipping number six after five is something to hang your hat on—and hop out of the truck bed and come here. Or almost here.
“Lily and I are going into the city for the weekend. I just popped in to grab my shit. I’m guessing by the state of things you won’t be inviting Brooklyn over to spend the night?” His lips twist with disappointment. I wince and let my forehead fall into my palms.
“Dude, I don’t even know,” I groan. “Things are kind of fucked up.”
“Yeah, well . . . I told you,” he says over his shoulder, empty duffle in his hands.
“Super helpful.” I lean into the door jamb for balance as I stand, my temples pounding inward, ringing my head. “Asshole,” I mutter.
Theo chortles as he stuffs jeans and a couple of shirts into his bag. I make it to my bed and fall onto my ass. Theo tosses a bottle of Tylenol at my chest, and I manage to catch it. It takes me longer than it should to get it open, and by the time I do, my friend is standing in front of me with a plastic tumbler full of water.
“Thanks,” I say, tossing three pills on my tongue then gulping down half of the water.
“Did she dump you?” he asks with such authority, so sure he’s right and has this whole thing figured out.
