by McKinley May
My head slants. "What are you tryin' to say?"
"Nothing, bro." He casually lifts his shoulders. "Just that she starts fucking around with you and suddenly she's testing positive for pills and destroying her future. Seems like the two are related."
"Don't even go there, Vaughn." Red floods my vision at his insinuation. "You know I don't mess with that shit. And if you think I'd ever encourage Sydney to do anything that would jeopardize her soccer career, you're out of your goddamn mind."
"You think I'm gonna believe anything you say anymore?" he asks with contempt. "You've been lying to me about sleeping with my sister—I'm not gonna listen to another word that comes out of your mouth, dude. Not one fucking syllable."
Suddenly, we're both shouting at one another. Voices rise, insults are flying, and after a few heated seconds, Sydney's had more than enough.
"Oh my God! You two are making this day a thousand times worse. Quit!"
Silence settles over the room as we turn her way.
"I want y'all to leave," she says. "I just—Crimson's going to be back any minute, and I promised her I'd help out at Midnight Massacre tonight. I need to get dressed, wash my face. I need to get my head straight and you guys being here isn't helping."
"I'm not going anywhere, Syd," Vaughn states with a firm shake of his head.
"Yes you are."
"Not until we figure this out."
"Vaughn." Her voice is sharp, unyielding. "Leave. We can't do anything about it right now, so just go. Please."
He pauses, opens his mouth to argue, but thinks better of it and emits a sigh. "Fine. But I want you to call me if you need anything. Anything at all. Alright?"
She bobs her head up and down.
"'Kay." He drags a hand through his hair and heads for the door.
"V, I—"
"Don't talk to me, Collins," he fumes. "Don't waste your fucking breath."
His shoulder slams against mine before he exits the room.
I listen as his footsteps fade down the hallway. I'm frustrated as hell with him, but I can't focus on that right now.
My attention is solely on Sydney.
She gets off her bed and starts digging in one of her drawers for clothes.
Her eyes flit up to mine, a remorseful look on her face. "You too, Cam. I'm not just trying to kick you guys out; I really do have to leave soon. It's the last weekend of the haunted house and they need extra help, so I told Crimson I would go and—"
"Sydney, it's fine. No need to explain. I'll head out. But first..." I motion her towards me. "C'mere for a sec."
She doesn't hesitate to bury herself in my arms. There are so many questions buzzing in my mind, so many things I wanna know, but I remain silent as I wrap her in an embrace. She squeezes me tight and lets out a drawn-out breath, like she desperately needed this.
"This sucks," she mumbles against my chest.
"You sure you don't wanna talk about it?"
I pull back, glancing down at her with an inquisitive look. She quickly shakes her head.
"I don't even wanna think about it for the rest of the night. Because tomorrow I'm going to wake up and reality's going to hit me like a brick wall."
Her voice breaks with emotion and she swallows. "I'm just hoping I can keep it together tonight. If my mind starts to roam, I'm gonna end up crying all over again and I'm pretty sure I'm fresh out of tears. Plus, bawling like a baby probably isn't going to scare the customers. I don't want to single-handedly ruin Midnight Massacre's reputation on the very last night of the season. Crimson will kill me."
When she lets out a sob-laugh type of sound, I quickly halt her train of thought.
"Hey, whoa. Then don't let your mind go there," I say. "Okay?"
"Okay." Her answer is uncertain, her pupils darting to the floor. "I'll try."
Suddenly, an idea pops into my head and I tilt her chin up.
"If you need distraction, I want you to call me. Or text me, or whatever you can get away with while you're working. I'll keep you occupied with stories."
Watery blue eyes blink up at me. "Stories?"
"Yup. Fucking hilarious stories about the guys. Like when Victor got his entire body waxed 'cause he was convinced it'd make him run faster. Or the time Diego lost a bet and had to ride a toddler-sized tricycle to class everyday for a month." I grin. "Just give me a name of one of my teammates and I've got a tale for you. You'll be laughing so hard, no way you'll be able to dwell on anything else."
"That might do the trick." She chuckles before slanting her head. "But is that really how you wanna spend your Saturday night? Keeping me distracted on the phone?"
I nod. "I'll talk to you as long as you need, babe."
"I wouldn't be so quick to commit to that; I'm gonna be there for a while."
"When do you get off?"
"Crimson says they won't be finished until 2 a.m. and since she's my ride..." Her sentence trails off.
"Then I'm gonna be distracting you until 2 a.m.," I state matter-of-factly. "I've got plenty of stories, Syd. Hundreds of 'em. Shit, maybe even thousands."
A small smile appears on her face.
"You'd do that, Cameron?" Her tone is vulnerable, a hint of surprise in her question. "Stay up just for me?"
"For you, Baby Blue?" I cup her face in my hands, running my thumbs across her cheekbones as I press my lips to her forehead in a soft kiss. "I'd stay up the whole damn night."
26
As expected, reality hits sooner than later. The shock has worn off, the undeniable truth immediately taking its place.
The situation slams into me like a freight train, knocking me on my ass and deflating me like a popped balloon.
I'll admit it—I am a wreck.
I've been in major Eeyore-mode all week long, moping around every corner of Windhaven.
I moped in Biology class, I moped at the gym, and I moped all over my dorm, sending off grumpy-cat vibes until Crimson couldn't take it anymore. She lit at least a dozen candles, opened our window, then demanded I leave the room for a little while.
Apparently my aura was, and I quote, "stinking up the place and preventing her from achieving proper manifestation".
Well excuse me!
So now here I am. The campus quad. Ready to collapse onto the grassy lawn and mope some more.
Woohoo.
I take a seat, tossing my backpack aside as I glance around at the plethora of people hanging out on this late Friday afternoon.
Some dude is butchering Wonderwall on a guitar that desperately needs to be tuned.
A tall, lanky student dressed in 18th-century attire is straddling a statue of a horse, performing some sort of dramatic monologue as he pretends to ride the bronze animal.
And twenty feet to my left, there's a girl surrounded by notebooks, worksheets, and pens of every color of the rainbow. She's sprawled out on the ground, taking a nap with a ridiculously thick textbook covering her face.
At least I think she's asleep...she's extremely still.
I grab a small pebble and toss it at her, the tiny rock making contact with her lower leg. She reaches down to grab her calf, the motion assuring me she's alive and well.
Thank goodness—death by studying would be an awful way to go.
I yawn and stretch out on the grass, my eyes wandering across the way to a giant willow tree. It's breathtakingly beautiful, the weeping branches blowing gently in the wind. I'm so mesmerized, I let out a yelp when a squirrel suddenly scampers up and breaks my trance.
Realization hits me as I spot the unique white tip of his bushy tail.
"Hey...I know you. You're that crazy little devil I got into a stand-off with earlier this semester!" I perch up on my elbows and lift a brow. "Still harassing innocent students in your spare time?"
He stares at me for a sec, then dips his head into my open backpack. A few moments later, he pops up, my afternoon snack secured between his teeny squirrel fangs.
"I'll take that as a yes," I mumble as I gent
ly free the package from his mouth.
He tries to snatch it back, but I shake my head back and forth.
"No, no, no. This—" I shake the cheese crackers "—is people food. And this..." I reach into the front pocket of my pack, pulling out a bag of mixed nuts and holding them in the air. "This is squirrel food. Get it?"
After I open the baggie, I offer it to him. He hesitates.
"Go on," I insist as I push the assortment closer to him. "Eat up. Nuts are the food of your kind. Ancestral diets are all the rage nowadays. Join the club."
Mr. Nutso finally does what I say, pulling out a peanut and shoving it in his cheek.
We sit there, chomping together in unison.
"So how's your day?" I ask.
He grabs a walnut and chews on it.
"Looks like it's going pretty well." I let out a disgruntled sigh. "Mine sucks, in case you're wondering. Seriously sucks. My team's playing tonight and I'm not even allowed to go watch. It's bad enough not being able to help out on the field, but to not be permitted at the match at all? What kind of bullshit is that? Ridiculous!"
I continue my rant—voice getting more high-pitched and hysterical with every word—when a bark of laughter makes me jump.
"Jesus, Sydney."
I gaze up, shielding my eyes from the sun until I can make out Cameron's amused expression. Even with him looking at me like I'm certifiably insane, my heart still picks up speed.
He cocks his head, puzzled eyes bouncing from me to the squirrel. "How come every time I find you, you're deep in conversation with a piece of food or something that walks on four legs?"
"Umm..." I emit a guilty laugh. "I don't have a good excuse for that. Maybe I just like to hear myself talk? Maybe I want to vent without getting any advice in return? I'm not sure. Chatting with things that can't respond tends to be easier sometimes."
"Oh?" He smirks, a trace of feigned offense in his tone. "You trying to get me to leave? I get it."
"No! You're the exception." I grin and grab a fistful of his shorts, refusing to let him escape. "Stay."
"I dunno." He gazes down at me, rubbing his chin in a teasing manner. "I think your squirrel's got it covered. Looks like I'm not needed here. See ya."
"Cameron!"
I roll my eyes as I tug at the fabric repeatedly, the soccer shorts falling lower on his trim hips.
"Shit, okay. Don't pants me in the middle of campus, crazy girl."
I raise a suggestive brow. "Why not?"
"Because," he says as he adjusts his waistband and nudges his head towards his crotch. "This is for your eyes only."
As Cam joins me on the ground, I turn to Mr. Nutso and wave him aside.
"Scoot over a little bit. We have a guest."
To my surprise, he actually obeys my command.
Maybe he's finally starting to understand who's boss around these parts.
Cameron lowers his large frame onto the grass, leaning back on his forearms in a way that makes his biceps bulge against the sleeves of his Warrior t-shirt. He fiddles with his baseball hat a time or two, the charcoal color of the cap making his gorgeous gray eyes pop even brighter in the sunshine.
As he stretches his legs out in front of him, he releases a relaxed sigh.
"Comfy?" I ask.
"Cozy as fuck." He nods before piercing me with a look of genuine concern. "How are you doing?"
"Uh. Well..." I bite on the inside of my cheek.
"Honest answers only," he adds adamantly.
"Honestly?" I expel a defeated breath. "Not great. Really bad, actually."
His brow furrows as he sits up, motioning me into his outstretched arms. I tuck my head into the crook of his shoulder, one of his hands wrapping around my waist and tugging me close. His familiar masculine scent engulfs me in an instant and I breathe deeply, a wave of serenity following the inhale.
Just being in his embrace makes everything hurt a little less.
"Have you figured anything else out?" he mumbles against the top of my head. "Any other details or explanations for what could've happened?"
"I've tried," I say softly. "I went to the lab where they handle the drug testing and demanded to talk to one of the scientists. I might've gotten a littttle worked up and accused them of running a faulty operation that's destroying my life. They took that allegation to heart and gave me a thorough tour of the facilities. After a full hour of learning their protocols and extremely strict guidelines, I'm basically an expert on medical laboratory science now." I let out a dejected laugh and shake my head. "They didn't fuck up. As much as I wanted it to be, it wasn't a mistake on their part. I definitely had drugs in my system."
"Doesn't make any sense..." Cam mutters as he slowly strokes the back of my hair, fingertips tickling the sensitive skin on the back of my neck. "What about your coach? You talk to her at all?"
"Only about a hundred times since this whole thing began. If I keep annoying her, there's a strong chance I'll be issued a restraining order by the end of the week."
He chuckles. "We don't want that."
"No, we don't." I frown. "This whole situation is freaking awful, Cam. I feel like throwing in the towel."
"Wait, what?" He pulls back, making sure I get a full-fledged view of his flabbergasted expression. "You wanna give up?"
"I don't want to." I offer a helpless shrug. "But I'm starting to feel like there's no other option."
"Nah. No way." Cameron shakes his head back and forth. "You're not that type of person, Sydney. The kind who backs down when the going gets tough. This is nothing but a speed bump. You've dealt with worse shit in the past."
True.
"We're gonna figure this out, baby." He tilts my chin up, staring deep into my eyes with fiery determination. "I promise. Okay?"
I give a firm nod. "Okay."
We sit in silence for a minute or so before I vocalize another thought that's been on my mind since last weekend.
"What about us?"
Cameron slants his head, confused. "What about us?"
"I don't know. Word's gotten around the block about the two of us and everybody, literally everybody, knows now..." I twirl a piece of hair around my finger. "I just wanted to make sure this doesn't change anything. Make sure we're still good?"
"Of course we're good, babe." He gives me a squeeze of reassurance, a beaming smile spreading across my face at the touch. "We're fucking great."
"Good," I say before yet another worry hits. "Have you talked to Vaughn?"
"No. Not yet." He makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. "And not for lack of trying, either."
"He's too stubborn for his own good." I shake my head and start to ramble. "He's still pissed at both of us. With me, it's in a disappointed type of way. But for you, it's more of a wants-to-rip-your-face-off kind of anger."
"Syd—"
He tries to cut me off, but I keep going.
"I want things to be okay between you guys. I really, really do. I tried to reason with him a billion times, but he wasn't having it. And then I also—"
Suddenly, Cam's lips crash against mine in a steamy kiss. It's the perfect remedy to my blabbering mouth spouting off worry after worry. I finally shut up, letting myself get good and gone in the pulse-racing moment.
"I don't want you to stress about that, alright?" he instructs when he pulls back. "I'll deal with your brother. You've got more important things to handle."
He's definitely right about that, and after telling him so, he tugs me into his arms once more.
Cameron is the undisputed king of big-bear hugs—his comforting embraces are the cure-all to any ailment, negative feeling, or shitty situation that may arise.
Magic, I tell you!
I'm enjoying the therapeutic hug when I feel his shoulders start to shake with laughter.
"What?" I ask as I look up at him. "What's funny?"
"I think your little rodent friend wants in on the action."
He tips his chin behind me and I follow the ge
sture. Mr. Nutso is staring at us with wide eyes, paws up at chest level in a begging motion.
"Awhhh," I coo. "Look at him!"
"I am." Cam scrunches his nose in disgust. "He's kinda creepy looking."
"What? Take that back!" I give him a quick slap on the arm. "He's really starting to grow on me. I think he's cute." I glance back at the small animal. "Aren't you, Mr. Nutso?"
A loud snicker fills the air. "Mr. Nutso? You named him?"
"Yep. And I was sort of thinking he could be the new Treehouse mascot." I lift a brow. "Thoughts?"
"There's only one thought that comes to mind at that suggestion."
"What is it?"
"You are so damn weird, Sydney Steel." Cameron smiles, shaking his head in amusement. "That's it. That's the thought."
"And you are so damn rude, Cameron Collins!" I burst out laughing. "Just admit that you like the weirdness. No...you love it!"
I'm just messing around, but a sudden, serious look flashes across his face.
"Yeah," he murmurs, eyes cloudy and contemplative. "I really do."
I'm about to question his odd demeanor when he blinks hard, clearing his throat and snapping out of the strange trance.
"Alright, I surrender." Cam waves the squirrel closer. "Get in here, Mr. Nutso. You are officially the Treehouse mascot."
"Wooo!" I clap my hands together in rambunctious applause. "Congratulations!"
Cam grins as he gives the newly ordained mascot one final piece of advice.
"Don't fuck it up like Mr. Slinky."
27
Confronting Vaughn is easier said than done.
The guy has been avoiding me like the plague. If it weren't for the fact that I've physically seen him at soccer practices and games, I'd think he'd transferred schools. He's never at the Treehouse—out the door hours before the sun rises in the morning, sneaks back in long after I've hit the hay.
Dunno how he's getting any freakin' sleep with a schedule like that...
He's determined to steer clear of me and doing a damn good job of it.
But Thursday night, the game of cat and mouse finally comes to an end.
I'm hanging out in the living room, watching my old high school soccer film to get hyped for playoffs. It's a ritual I've been partaking in since I was a freshman, one that most of my teammates find superstitious as fuck, but you gotta do what you gotta do. This is how I get my mind prepared for post-season.