Chapter 18 #2
“Well, I’m going to start on breakfast.” Tiff shrugs. “Do we want blueberry or chocolate chip pancakes?”
“Chocolate chip,” Marcus practically shouts, like any other option is sacrilege.
The thought of food churns my stomach unpleasantly. “I’m not hungry.”
“Pretty sure he just said chocolate chip.” Marcus arches a brow at me. “You heard chocolate chip, right? I heard chocolate chip.”
“Someone said chocolate chip.” Tiff laughs, rolling her eyes as she moves to the picnic table to get started.
I shoot Marcus a dull look, but he simply smiles back at me innocently, even though he knows I know what he’s doing.
It doesn’t need to be said that his interest in my lack of appetite comes from years of our shared experiences with my previous eating disorders.
Instead of being comforting, it’s suffocating to have him acknowledge it like I’m two seconds away from having a mental breakdown or something.
I’m really not. I just might throw up if I try to eat.
But I don’t comment on it. It’s not worth the fight while I’m in a piss poor mood. Marcus’s motivations are built on a foundation of love, but he doesn’t have to go off acting like a mother hen about it.
Can’t a guy just sit and brood over a severed connection with another boy in peace?
While Tiff cooks breakfast, I try to go back to reading, but the task proves mostly unsuccessful as more and more people start waking up.
First, Liz comes out looking like the most well-rested one here.
She’s practically glowing as she bounces around the campsite, cleaning up from last night.
Then Laura and Ben come out of their tent and sit across from me, trying to make small talk until I scare them off with whatever look must be on my face.
They both get up quickly and decide to help Tiff cook instead.
When Eric gets up, my irritation skyrockets to new heights.
He drags himself out into the sunlight like a vampire about to burn to a crisp from the brightness and immediately starts whining.
The bed was too uncomfortable last night, the air too cold, his back too sore, and he has a hangover headache threatening to undo him.
It starts to grate on my nerves the longer he talks about his benign problems.
It’s clear that the energy is off around here, and apparently, I’m the reason for it.
Even though I’m just sitting here trying to read, it seems like everybody can tell that I’m in a bad mood.
They tiptoe around me like they’re afraid I’m a bomb about to go off, exchanging glances and hushed whispers as they stare at me, trying to figure out what’s wrong without asking outright.
The longer it goes on, the higher the chances I’ll actually explode.
I’m cranky and sleep-deprived and not in the mood to be scrutinized.
The final nail in the coffin comes when Luke steps outside to join the rest of us right as breakfast is set out on the table.
He’s still wearing my hoodie, his pristinely quaffed hair a little wild from sleep, and he rubs his eyes with his hand as he yawns and stretches.
It’s the most disheveled I’ve ever seen him, yet he’s somehow as beautiful as ever. Utterly unfair.
All it takes is one look at him standing there to realize I’m fucked.
It doesn’t help that a wave of awkward silence rolls through the rest of the camp as soon as Luke turns his eyes to me, his expression ice-cold.
My body goes rigid as a possibility I didn’t consider strikes fear into my heart.
What happens if Luke doesn’t handle this civilly?
Is he the kind of person who would take our issues and make them everybody’s problem, or will he keep them between us?
It’s not like he knows I have any reason to want to be discreet, but what if he winds up saying something about last night that will inadvertently out me to everyone here? Luke wouldn’t do that… Would he?
“Good morning, Luke! Come and have some breakfast,” Tiff says, breaking the tension with a warm smile. “I made chocolate chip pancakes.”
Luke smiles back, but it’s tense as he surveys all of my friends like they’re enemies on a battlefield.
He comes over to the empty chair next to mine, but instead of sitting down as I would have expected, he picks it up and moves across the camp, as far away from me as possible, while still remaining a part of the group.
That awkward silence gets even more uncomfortable.
I stare at Luke in shocked disbelief. He may as well have just smacked me across the face with how obvious that was, and now everyone’s eyes are suddenly on me, questioning what the hell this is about.
I can feel my face burning from the unexpected attention, and the muscles in my jaw twitch from how hard I’m suddenly clenching it.
I glance around the group before looking back at Luke with a scowl.
If he cares that he just made things incredibly difficult for me, I can’t tell. He’s purposefully avoiding my gaze.
There’s no way I can sit here and pretend everything’s good after that, not when the already tense atmosphere feels paper-thin.
Scoffing, I get up from my chair and toss my book on the seat with an audible ‘thwack.’ It’s harsh—the book didn’t deserve that—but I don’t fucking care at this point.
I’m bringing everyone’s weekend down from this fucked up situation, so it’s probably best to excuse myself until I’m in a better mood.
“I’m going for a walk,” I announce irritably to no one in particular, avoiding everyone’s stares as I turn and walk away without another word.