AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But Zack is right about one thing, my dad really does care. That’s why he left his last job and came to Whitmore. He may be president now, which means a great paycheck, but for most of my years growing up, he was a single dad living on a low faculty salary, paying for my private school education to give me the best shot at making something of myself. That means we still need my tuition waiver, because there’s lots of debt to catch up on from the past twenty years.
“Sure, yeah. Hey, are those your friends? They’re waving at you.”
Zack notices the group of guys at a table shoving their faces in between waves. “Oh yeah. That’s the squad. Want to go meet them?”
I brace myself as I grab a black-bean burger and smear it with mustard. “Yeah, sure. Meet you over there. I just want to get some salad.”
As he joins his friends, I see him saying something to them, and they all keep glancing my way. I’m just going to rise above my awkward feelings and head over. No big deal. I can do this. I’m a chameleon after all. Plus, since my dad has paid the team a personal visit, I’m sure they already know who I am. At least they’ll be polite.
“Great to meet you, Cam.” One guy holds out his hand as I approach, and I balance my tray in one hand to shake his.
“How you liking Whitmore?” another asks, sliding over to make room for me.
I’m sweating bullets from the spotlight, but I swallow the lump in my throat and slide into the empty space. The iced tea on my tray wobbles and I grab it just before it tips. “It’s great. Real friendly folks. How’s the team looking?”
I’ve learned that athletes love this question, and these guys eat it up as expected. They break out into a chorus of stats and jargon that I can more or less follow. At least it gives me time to take a few much-needed bites of food.
I was so eager to not miss my new roommate, I might have skipped breakfast waiting for him. What a letdown that’s been. Maybe a giant part of me was hoping for a hot gay roommate who would fall madly in love with me and show me all the things I’d been missing. But that isn’t Xander. I do have a pretty good gaydar, even if I can’t figure out flirting, and it so doesnotboop for him.
At that thought, I feel the heat of a pair of eyes staring me down from behind and I turn instinctively. As if summoned by my thoughts, Xander is sitting a few tables over, indeed giving me a death stare.Okay then.
When Xander catches my eyes, he bolts up from his table and stalks to the trash where he buses his tray in what I can only describe as a fit of rage, before he stomps out of the cafeteria. This guy is all sorts of odd, and man do I want to unwrap that package and find out why.
I shouldn’t care. I should leave him alone. He has told me as much himself. But he seemed so sad earlier, and sad is my kryptonite. Doesn’t really matter what the circumstance is, if I see someone looking sad, I’m going to swoop in and be their friend. I can’t help myself.
Xander
The cafeteria may have been too much, too fast for me. Smiling faces, laughing groups of co-eds. These probably don’t trigger normal people, but to me? All I see are greedy faces. Attention whores. I mean, in my defense, there are literally four different people filming themselves right now. I’m supposed to just ignore all that?
Instead of ignoring it, my mind keeps wandering to all the ways to make these elite brats show their true colors, all the ways I can get them to exploit themselves. See how far they will take it, just to be internet famous.
They are all so eager to do it. Who knew rich kids would be so money hungry? Even growing up with everything, they still want more. Money. Attention. Spotlight.
When I spot Cameron, whose pink lips are wrapped around a fat burger, that little ingenue makes my chest ache in a weird way. He looks so different from everyone else. His eyes are trained down. He seems nervous. Then again, he’s surrounded by a bunch of fratty football players. That can’t be his crowd. He sticks out like a sore thumb.
“Midnight,” I say the codework quickly to Nayla and stand up from the table, rushing to the trash cans to bus my tray. That’s the word we agreed on using, when I was starting to have thoughts of fucking with people for my own pleasure. Only, the truth of this moment is that Cameron gives me new weird thoughts that I don’t have the mental energy to process.
I don’t even look back at my friend, because I know she will understand. Booking it to my room, I check the time. Still a little early for my dose of Naltrexone, but I’m taking it anyway. Just got a thirty-day supply, to get me over the hump. Right now, it feels like a magic pill, even though it doesn’t do much, it does help dull the ache when a craving to fill my emptiness by making someone else empty hits. I feel around my duffel for the bottle, and it rattles in reply. Twisting the cap, I swallow a pill down, without even a sip of water. Getting pretty good at that.
Crashing back on the bed, I pull open my phone and click the meditation video my therapist has sent me. Calming music plays out, a little chime dings three times in the background, and I practice my breathing.
A deep voice begins, “I am working my recovery.” Taking a sharp inhale, I repeat the words before the next affirmation starts. “I am finding my integrity one day at a time.”
Trying my best to believe the words, I repeat the speaker again, “I choose to live in the moment.”
I don’t even realize when the door opens as I say the next line, “My past actions do not define me in the present.” But the sound of the door closing has me jolting upright and smashing my screen to stop the video.
I must be glaring daggers at Cameron, based on the look of fear on his face. “Sorry. Hope I didn’t disturb you. Maybe we should have a signal for privacy. Could come in handy, for when you have girls over? Or guys?” There is a definite question in his tone, and I take a bit of pleasure in not answering.
He pulls in a breath, and continues, “Or if I have a guy over. Though you don’t have to worry about that because I don’t really know how to meet people yet. But maybe by the end of the year I will have it figured out. I didn’t really have a chance to at my last school, it was in a conservative town... and I’m rambling again, sorry.”
I bite my cheek to avoid chuckling at Cameron’s incessant babble. I don’t deserve to laugh anymore. Not yet, anyway.
If anything, his chatteriskind of a nice distraction. Perching my elbows on my knees, I stare at him until he sits down on his brightly colored bedspread. Man, he looks scared of me.Good, he should be.“You talk a lot.”
“S-sorry,” he stutters, face falling a bit.
I lean back, resting my head on my hands against the concrete wall. “Go on then.” I give him an expectant look.
