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His brows stitch together. “About what?”
I stifle a laugh and it turns into a snort. He couldn’t stop himself every other time, but being put on the spot has him tongue-tied. Noted. “Say anything.”
“Uh. Um...” he mumbles, clearly out of his element. Why do I love that so much? His unsureness, the way he fidgets as he pulls a knee protectively to his chest. This is probably not a good sign, that I already like toying with him. But there is something different about him. He’s not made of pure ego. That much is clear.
“Well. I, uh, I just signed up for the LGBTQ+ student group. That should be fun. They have lots of mixers and events for helping us meet people. Although I assume being in the inclusive dorms means I’ll meet guys around our building. I wonder if straight people have anything like that? Then again, I guess every party is a straight-people mixer. Though I bet you don’t need any help meeting uh… girls? Guys? People?”
There it is again, his not-so-subtle questioning. I stare him down for a minute, enjoying the eager expression on his waiting face. “What’s your major?”
His smile twitches, much to my satisfaction. “Computer science, you?”
My eyes lift in surprise. “Same.”
“This school has one of the strongest in the country, so that must mean you’re really good. Write any code I’d recognize?”
Coding is one of the few things that my brain allows me to obsess with that doesn’t directly wreak havoc on my life, though people seem to find clever ways for me to abuse my talent. “You heard of WriteMe?”
His eyes bug wide. “You wrote the software that students use to cheat on papers?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Wrote the software to detect papers that have been created by it.”
Cameron leans back into his pillows and pulls a large ice-cream-sandwich-shaped Squishmallow into his lap. At the sight of him all folded up like that, I get this strange overwhelming urge that I want to be in that Squishmallow’s place, being squeezed into his lap.What the fuck, dude?
I stand up quickly, and grunt, “Gotta take a piss.”
Out in the hall, I press my back to the door and take a few deep breaths. A guy holding a stuffed toy shouldn’t threaten my sobriety, but it so does. Am I really that fucked up? I swear, I’m getting worse before I’m getting better.
At least I’ve been writing more code than ever before, and that’s my key to staying in good graces at Whitmore. I run through some code in my head and eventually, my heartrate settles.
When I enter the room again, Cameron’s sitting at his desk browsing a website for the LGBTQ+ student club he mentioned. “Website’s shit,” I mutter as I close the door.
“It is awful, isn’t it? It doesn’t even link to resources. I wish I could get a spider code up to pull in resources, at minimum. I’ve only been into coding three years though, so I’m sure I’m nowhere near where I need to be to pull it off. Maybe you can help me out when I get stuck this year?”
“Maybe,” I say as if it’s a remote chance, then I lie back on my bed and hook an arm over my eyes.
Cameron spins around to face me. I can’t see him, but I can hear him. I canfeelhim looking at me. This kid doesn’t scare easily, which somehow makes him more intriguing. “How long you been coding anyway?”
“Sixteen years.”
“Holy smokes. That’s a long time. You could probably teach the courses.” There is clear admiration in his tone, and honestly, he isn’t entirely wrong. Sometimes I learn new things or different ways of thinking from the professors, so that is saying something. And the courses give me time to write my own code, so I don’t mind sitting through the lectures. But all of that really makes me sound like a dick. Well, a bigger dick than he probably already realizes I am after talking with Zack, so I decide not to respond.
There are heavy footsteps barreling down the hall that stop at our door. Then there’s a loud banging sound. “Briggs. Get your ass out here. Time to get our drink on, bro.”
It’s Tanner.Shit.I knew I’d have to face my friends sometime. Is it too much to hope for one night of peace?
Opening the door, Tanner punches me square in the shoulder and I take a step back at the impact before whaling him one back.
“Who’s this?” he asks, looking around me.
“Cameron,” a small voice answers. My poor roomie’s face looks a little horrified. Fair enough. My friends are a bitbro-ish, whatever that says about me.
“Dude, come get wasted with me and let’s find some chicks.” To Cameron, he adds, “Briggs is the king of pussy. If you need a wingman, just hang around this one and he’ll toss you some scraps every now and then.”
Well, that’s fucking embarrassing. Especially because Cameron appears to be blushing. The sooner I can get rid of Tanner, the better. I hook my arm around him and steer him into the hall. “Bro, I, um, I can’t party with you for a while. I’m on probation with the college. No drinking. No parties. No girls. That’s the deal they offered so I can keep my scholarship.”
Some of my friends are still oblivious to the fact that the complaints lodged against me are valid. They feel the need to defend me in all my bullshit. I’m trying hard not to be sucked in by their logic.I am culpable for my past actions.
“They can’t do that, man. Total bullshit. I’m telling you, let my dad get you a lawyer. Those girls won’t know what hit ‘em.”
