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Once everyone is out of the apartment, I start picking up the empty plates and bowls of chips. There’s spilled salsa under a bag of chips that I’m going to guess someone tried to hide. I’ll leave that one for Emree to pick up.
“Blaire Elaine Wentworth, you have some explaining to do,” Em says from behind the couch.
I shiver at hearing my middle name. My mother’s name. “You know how much I hate being called that.” I stick her with my not-so-serious face, and she laughs at my attempt of being tough.
“Oh, I know just how much you hate when I pull out the full name, but the situation calls for it.” After wiping up the salsa spill and tossing the dirty paper towel in the sink, she plops down on the couch, the very one Camden and I were just on, and tucks her legs under her. “Now explain to me this Camden guy and the flirting I witnessed tonight.”
“Oh no, no. There was definitely no flirting going on.” Shaking my head, I sink into the couch on the other side of her. “Flirting isn’t even in my vocabulary, Em.” To be honest, I can’t even remember the last time I flirted. If there was ever a time.
Blowing out a breath, Emree rolls her eyes at me. “I’ve seen flirting, Blaire, and it was for sure going on tonight. Him too. He is totally into you, and I saw the way you were checking out his chest when that shirt was ripped.”
The heat coming off my face is hard to hide, because I can’t help but think of Camden’s chest at the mention of it.
Being twenty, you’re supposed to have all these experiences with the opposite sex. Unfortunately, I’m lacking in that department. I have been on exactly one date when I was sixteen and it has haunted me for the last four years.
“I’m not a nun, Emree. Of course, he is an attractive guy, but that doesn’t mean I was flirting or I even like him.” Does it? Is it even flirting if I don’t have the slightest clue what flirting looks like?
Stretching out her legs after sitting on them, Emree stands and twists her back, letting out a crack. “You keep telling yourself that, babe, but I know what I saw. You may not think it was flirting, but I saw you with Camden. There are for sure sparks there, whether you want to deny it or not.” She gives me a soft smile and squeezes my knee. “He seems like a nice guy, Blaire. Maybe this is it, the next step. I’m not saying go out and maul the man, but maybe start out as friends? Let him gain the trust you gave me.”
She leaves me sitting there with a million and one thoughts running through my mind. Trust is something I gave away too easily before. It was broken by people I thought were my friends. People who were supposed to be there to support and love me.
8
BLAIRE
Thursday morning, I wake up feeling better than I have in a long time after a peaceful night of sleep. While the nightmares have been far less present with the help of my therapy, I still wake up startled and covered in my own sweat, soaking the sheets. This morning, though, there is no nightmare, but instead, I had a peaceful dream. Today I woke with a brand-new thought: Camden Collins.
In my dream, I was reliving the events of last night. It was my closest interaction with a guy since high school. Even if it did result in bodily harm, I can’t help but smile at the feeling of how…normal it was. Being around Camden made me feel like any old average college kid. In the two years I’ve been at Braxton, it was a first. During my time here, I have alienated myself from most people at school, until Emree. Since we have known each other, she has wanted me to come out of my shell and meet more people. All at my own pace, of course. She has never pushed me, but some slight nudging has occurred.
Over the two years here, I have kept to myself, but in the back of my mind, I have been yearning for a normal college experience. Maybe it’s finally my time. I trust Emree not to steer me in the direction of something bad. I should be able to be friends with the people who she thinks are good people and is comfortable around.
Thursdays and Fridays are the only two days I don’t have classes, so I use this time for studying and tutoring. Last fall, my math professor was impressed with my assignments and test scores, so he asked if I wanted to work in the library and make a few extra bucks tutoring. Spending my time in the library sounded perfect to me. Gives me time to catch up on my own studies, as well as the hundreds of unread books on my Kindle.
The four-hour shift starts out slow, and by hour two I’m all caught up on assignments for the first week of class. Just as I’m about to dive into my Kindle, the tutoring leader, Michael, comes over to the table where I made myself at home.
“How’s it going, Blaire? Exciting stuff, huh?” he jokes. When I signed up to tutor, Michael had cautioned me that this wouldn’t be the most thrilling job, especially in the beginning of the semester. Not many students are looking for a tutor until they realize how difficult the class is, which is usually after the first test. In all honesty, getting the help in the beginning to give yourself tools for the rest of the semester would be smarter.
“Not too bad actually. Was able to catch up on my own studies, so that’s a plus,” I answer him, pointing to my stack of books.
He laughs. “That’s great you’re all caught up. We have a student looking for some tutoring in American Literature, and since Selena just left, I was wondering if you’d be able to help him out?”
Math was the only subject I signed up to tutor in since it’s my strongest. Though English is a close second. “Sure, no problem, Michael.”
His face lights up. “That’s great. The only other tutor I have here is a science major and well…he was one of the students going to Selena for English tutoring last semester.”
I let out an awkward laugh, not sure what else to say to that.
“I’ll go ahead and grab his paperwork and send him your way.”
After Michael walks off, I put my Kindle away, slightly bummed I wasn’t able to catch up on some fun reading. Too distracted gathering my American Lit books and notes, I don’t notice someone has approached until I hear the clearing of a throat.
“Well, if it isn’t my lucky day,” a familiar voice says.
My body freezes and my head snaps up. Of all people who could walk in here looking for help in a class, of course it is Camden Collins who shows. And just as our English tutor has left for the day.
After staring at him for an awkward amount of time, I finally speak up, “You’re the student I’m tutoring?”
“Sure am, Teach,” he says, plopping down in the seat across from me. He’s flashing me the warmest smile, and I can’t help but get lost in his features. The tanned skin, white teeth, and those bright green eyes. He was the last person I wanted to see today, yet here he is. The universe works in the crappiest of ways.
