Personally, though? Today was a good day. A damn good day, despite the way it started with the creeper on the T.
I haven’t talked and joked with anyone like that since . . . well, since I talked and joked with Lily the night of the accident. I let go today. Maybe it was the guy moving in on her space that pushed me over the edge, or perhaps it was her hug that did it. I kinda think I just missed her. Missed thatwhat iffeeling we were nurturing months ago.
Practice was hard today, and it didn’t even faze me. We ran. A lot. And I had plenty in the reserves. At one point, I turned and ran backwards, mocking James. I think it pissed him off a little. It felt great, though. And he got over it by the time we changed out in the locker room. Good thing, too, because I needed to talk him into snagging some more liquor for tonight.
It feels good to slide into jeans for once. Even when it’s a casual thing, I usually play the part of the perfect Welles man. There’s a standard that goes with this school, one that’s pushed by people like my mom and Morgan’s parents. They fought like hell to keep the zero-tolerance dress code in place, which meant a student was either in an approved Welles outfit or their fucking PJs. The board didn’t relax the rules to allow for casual wear on weekends and after hours until my fourth form. Anika led the debate for change.
Tonight, I wear these jeans to celebrate the bad-assness of my sister.
“You’re giddy. Why?” Cameron asks with what sounds like chips in his mouth.
Shit. Am I? Damn, I think I am.
“Or maybe you’re just high,” I respond over my shoulder. I button up my flannel and spray a dash of Gucci at my chest. I’m pretty much ready. Meanwhile, Cameron is in gray sweatpants and a long-sleeve metal band T-shirt with a slice across the center. And there’s a cheese stain on it. He’s been licking the bottom of that damn nacho bowl for the last ten minutes, shoving every crumb in his mouth. “Dude, that cheese drip looks like vomit. Can you at least change shirts?”
Cameron sits up straight, a rarity for him, and levels me with a very serious expression as he tosses his nacho tray to the side, missing the garbage can by a foot, then grabs a hoodie from the space where his bed meets the wall.
“Is that even clean?” Cameron is the reason we had a severe dress code, and right now, he’s making me regret it relaxed.
“There’s no cheese on it, so . . . yeah, it’s clean.” He pulls the hood up over his wild hair and stands, sliding his socked feet into a pair of Birkenstocks. Sometimes, the dude drives me nuts. But I think one of the reasons I love him so much is his overly relaxed persona. He’s a walking, breathing treatment for my anxiety. Just being in a room with him has a mellowing effect. Or maybe it’s a contact high.
“Let’s go. People are probably waiting for me to open up the place.”
Cameron slides his feet down the hall and even loses one of his sandals on the stairs during our trip down. I feel like he’s purposely dragging ass to piss me off, but it simply amuses me instead. We slip outside through the back door and head toward the library where, surprisingly, nobody is waiting.
“Small gathering, I presume,” Cameron teases through a cough.
I purse my lips and glare at him just outside the hidden library door.
“Maybe ease up on the smoking?” I chastise.
His only response is to make a hand puppet at me and say, “Blah, blah, blah.”
I shift the vines to make room for the door and give it a tug. When it doesn’t even budge, I back up and glance around as if I somehow came to the wrong secret library door. As if there’s more than one.
“What’s up?” Cameron rests his chin on my shoulder and looks on at the knob as I twist and pull again.
“It’s stuck or something.” My brow pinches. This door was loose the other times I came in here. There isn’t a lock on it, which is the reason I discovered it in the first place. Of course, Ididadd a deadbolt inside.
“What the fuck?” I pull again, irritation growing with my suspicion. I pound with my fist then press my ear against the door to listen.
“They’re in there,” I huff, backing away enough to give me space to kick the door. “Open the door, assholes!”
“Dude, relax. It’s not like you own the joint,” Cameron says. I glare at him until he backs away a few steps and raises his palms at his sides. “Fine. Whatever. Someone will open it.”
Cameron wanders over to the bench across the walkway and I pull my phone out to text our group. I understand what Cameron means, but seriously—I’m the one who planned tonight. I’m the one who found this room, who had the idea of using it to kick back and maybe party a little. I never should have shared it with James.
I start to pace, waiting for someone to respond to my message.
“Just sit down, Theo. They’ll get to us when they get to us.” Cameron’s voice oozes chill, and normally that winds me down. Tonight, though, it has the opposite result. My pulse has ratchetedwayup.
I flip through my contacts, mad that I only have Lily on the student messenger app. I should have made sure I got her number today. I wonder if she’s in there. Probably is, with James . . .studying.
My thumb stops at James’ contact info. I press CALL and promptly begin pacing back and forth in front of the door while I keep him on speaker. He doesn’t answer the first time, but the second time I call he decides to answer in person, unlatching the door and swinging it open wide.
“Hey, there he is! Man of the hour.” His laugh is sloppy. He’s been drinking for a while, it seems.
I step in close, my chin just under his. I hate that he’s taller than me, and my chest automatically inflates to match his size.