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“You’re not a bad person,” she murmurs, and when I look at her, I see an understanding glow in her eyes, like she gets it. As if she gets me.
Please.
Little Miss Golden Girl who’s never had to deal with anything bad or awful or ugly her whole life. She’s lived a perfect existence and she has no idea what it’s like, dealing with a drunk dad and a sad mom and an older brother who wanted nothing more but to get out of that house and never look back.
That’s me. I’m the same as Samuel. He bailed. I bailed too. We barely talk. He lives clear across the country and has very minimal contact with any of us. At least I still call Mom. He doesn’t even bother reaching out to her.
“I’m not a great person either,” I tell her. I need to be real with her. She has to know. “I’m not worth trying to fix.”
“You don’t need to befixed, Cam.” She sounds so logical. Like what I’m saying is absolutely ridiculous. “You just need to be…shown.”
I’m confused. “Shown what?”
Her smile is blinding. “Love.”
Damn it.
I’m completely fucked.
NINE
BLAIR
Two daysafter Cam’s little outburst and I’m back at Logan’s, eager to spot him. I came with Rita and Cheyenne, who are both in good spirits and not at each other’s throats, so we’re at peace for the first time in days.
They argue a lot and it’s so exhausting. I hide away in my room most of the time, avoiding their screaming fights. I don’t particularly enjoy living with them, but what else can I do? Where else can I go? I was assigned this apartment and it’s hard finding another place around here since housing is limited. And I really don’t want to look for somewhere else to live.
I texted my mom, of course, unloading on her all of my worries and concerns, and she said all of the right things, but nothing beats actually having her with me. Giving me a hug when I’m feeling down.
I miss my parents. I miss my sister. My brother?
I’m kind of sick of him right now, ha.
“The boys are out tonight!” Rita lifts her tequila shot in celebration, and Cheyenne clinks it with hers, the liquor sloshing over the rims of both their glasses. “Where’s your shot, Blair?”
I shrug, offering a helpless smile. “I’m the designated driver tonight.”
Rita throws back her shot, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. “We took an Uber here.”
Shit. Not like I can explain to these two that I would rather be sober when I encounter Cam, but they would never get it. “I don’t feel like drinking tonight.”
“Why the hell not?” Cheyenne retorts. “It’s been a tough week.”
The fact that we’re in school seems to have kicked into overdrive for all of us. Assignments have been piled upon us. Big tests are looming. It’s getting serious and I am thriving. I’ve been keeping up with all of my reading, assignments and papers. I’ve taken copious amounts of notes. I am ready to tackle just about anything school-wise, while my roommates act like they’re drowning.
Rita is a STEM major, and major kudos to her, I don’t know how she does it. Cheyenne wants to be a teacher, and I can’t imagine her being patient with children, but it’s none of my business.
Me? I’m a psychology major. I want to be a relationship therapist. This is partly why Camden fascinates me so much. That speech he gave me—swear to God that’s the most he’s said to me in one sitting, ever—has been interesting to mentally dissect the last couple of days.
He doesn’t believe he’s worthy of love. He doesn’t do committed relationships because he’s afraid of them. Afraid of who he might turn into once he’s in one—his mother or his father. I’d assume his father, though I’m sure he has some of his mother’s tendencies.
He’s a good guy with a good heart. He’s a strong leader of his team, always there for Knox when he needs him, and he’s kind. I’ve never seen him be mean to anyone, though it’s not like I spend a lot of time with him to even know.
But I have to trust my brother’s opinion of him. Knox wouldn’t be friends with an asshole—and Cam is Knox’s absolute best friend. They’re close. They live together. There’s a reason for that.
And that reason is good enough for me to pursue Cam, despite all of his protests. I know we would be good together. I wish he could see it.
“I just don’t feel like drowning all of my woes in alcohol,” I finally answer truthfully.
