One #2
“But on to the topic of the video,” Louis says, rerouting the conversation.
“I’ve drafted a statement about the video on your behalf, Camden.
We’ll frame it exactly as Trevor said: it was a private, consensual moment that was unfortunately leaked online.
Hopefully that will put the matter to rest, but I need you to understand just how much these things matter to the NHL.
It’s a business at the end of the day. These teams—their owners and managers—don’t care how talented you are if you’re a PR disaster.
You simply won’t be worth the energy or potential risks. ”
My gaze drops back to my hands resting in my lap. “Yes, Louis. I’m sorry for…letting you down.”
“It’s yourself you’re letting down. Not me,” he says matter-of-factly. “I want this for you, yes. But it’s not my life, it’s yours. So you need to get it together. Focus on getting those grades up, and lie low while this thing blows over.”
Coach hums, clearly agreeing with this plan of action. “We’ll revisit getting you out in front of the press again; see if we can’t get them talking about your talent on the ice rather than…dancing in the nude.”
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” I agree, grimacing. At this point, I’ll do whatever they tell me to do for the sake of my future.
“If that’s all settled, you’re free to go. Unless there’s anything else, Louis?” Coach asks, to which my agent declines. “All right then. See you for practice tomorrow.”
Rising from my seat across from him, I shoulder my bag and head toward the door. The two of them have already moved to another topic when I pause and turn, feeling an immense amount of gratitude for what they’ve done to salvage this situation.
Coach notices me lingering, and arches a brow. “Need something else, Steele?”
“Uh, I just… Thanks. Both of you,” I say earnestly. “I promise I won’t let you down.”
The townhouse is eerily silent when I get home later that evening, which is the new normal since a few of Logan’s friends took over Holden’s, Phoenix’s, and Theo’s portions of the lease.
Even when everyone is home, it’s like the place is deserted—a far cry from the house I’ve lived in the past three years.
Back then, it was always filled with people, parties, and laughter—the latter usually being aimed at me, but most of the time, I didn’t mind.
At least I was on the ass-end of jokes from people who loved me.
Cared about me. Now, with my roommates all being Logan and his friends, this place is just… really fucking lonely.
With the way today went—and having no one to talk to about it—I’m realizing that more than ever.
I drop down on my mattress after making it to my room and stare at the ceiling for a few minutes.
If Oakley were here, he’d be giving me some kind of pep talk right now, not letting me wallow in defeat.
Holden, on the other hand, would be playing the bad cop, threatening to lock me in my room if I didn’t get my shit together.
And Theo? Well, after ribbing me about my grades, he’d probably be up my ass to make a tutoring appointment—if not taking on the job himself.
I fucking miss them.
Which is why I tap out a message to the old house chat from before Oakley moved out—minus Braxton’s douchey ass—and hit send before I can think better of it.
Me: SOS. Like for real for real.
It takes less than thirty seconds for a FaceTime notification to appear in the chat, and while I wasn’t expecting this to be the response, I answer anyway.
Theo’s the one who appears on the other end, though I’m surprised to find him sitting in the driver’s seat of a vehicle.
From the angle he has his phone propped up on the dashboard of the car, I can make out the corner of Madden’s face too, which sends a little pang of disappointment through me.
It’s not that I don’t like Madden; he’s actually a great guy.
It’s just embarrassing enough to admit how poorly things are going here since they all left, heading off to their own post-graduate lives.
Letting any of their significant others in on the sordid circumstance I’ve found myself in is just rubbing salt in the wound.
“Hey, T. Mads. Where ya going?”
“Heading to the airport. We’ve got a quick trip to Vermont,” he supplies, his eyes darting from me to the road and back again. “Which means you’ve got me for about fifteen minutes. Give me the short version of why you need us to save your soul.”
A grin pulls at my lips. “Ah. So you two are returning to the scene of the crime, huh?”
“Not on purpose,” Madden says, leaning into the frame a little more. “We’ve just got a wedding.”
“And you didn’t think to invite me? I thought I’d be your best man, T!”
“What? No. We’re not getting married,” Theo declares, a little mystified by my line of thinking.
Madden pins him with a look. “You better mean right now, not never with that statement.”
“Of course I mean right now. But we can wait a year or two, let you settle into the team before we get married.”
Holden chooses that moment to join the call, appearing on the screen in what I believe to be his and Phoenix’s apartment.
“Cam, what’s going—wait. Did I just hear you’re getting married, Theo?”
Theo lets out a disgruntled huff, but Madden chuckles before saying, “No, my cousin is getting married in Vermont. We’re on our way to the airport right now.”
“The same cousin who Theo, in a fit of jealous rage, thought you were going to screw the last time you were there?” I ask, unable to hide my grin.
Holden bursts into laughter, Madden quickly joining in. Meanwhile, Theo looks like he’s ready to strangle me through the screen.
“Okay, how the fuck did this get turned around on me?” he admonishes, tossing one hand toward his phone. “Cam is the one who is in a crisis. That we still don’t even know about, by the way.”
Holden chuckles some more. “Okay, okay. You better fill us in before Theo changes his flight to come murder us instead.”
The jovial tone of the call sobers, all of them giving me the floor.
Ah, hell.
Rubbing my forehead, I mumble, “Well, uh. I’m close to losing my eligibility to play this season.”
My friends are surprisingly quiet as they process the news, but even more surprising, it’s Madden who ends up breaking the silence.
“The video went over that bad, huh?”
A wry laugh comes out, and I shake my head. “Ah, I mean, yes. But my grades are actually the problem.”
Theo’s brows raise slightly. “We leave you to your own devices for half a semester and now you can’t pass your midterms?”
“I skated by on all of them except for Philosophy 101,” I reason defeatedly. “That stupid class has been an issue for me most of the term.”
Phoenix pops into the frame behind Holden, glancing at his boyfriend while asking, “Didn’t you and Theo take Phi 101 last year for an easy A?”
”Yes, and we both gave him our notes for it. And those also included Oakley’s from the year before,” Theo replies for Holden, the words coming out equally exasperated and dry. “Cam, we literally gave you the blueprint to pass the class. How the hell are you failing?”
I run my tongue along the inside of my cheek, knowing I have absolutely no excuse for this. Well, actually, I do, though none of them are aware of it.
I’m in the middle of working through an explanation when another box pops up on the screen, Oakley appearing inside it. He’s sitting in the kitchen of their New York apartment, in the middle of eating what looks to be…Thai, maybe?
“Well, I see the whole gang is here,” he says in greeting. “Someone catch me up on what I missed.”
“Theo and Madden are not getting married, and Camden is flunking out of college,” Holden supplies before anyone can say a word.
“Oh my God!” Theo exclaims in exasperation. “We’re not getting married at this wedding.”
Oakley blinks a couple times, clearly taken aback. “Okay, so we’ll come back to that,” he says slowly before bringing his focus back to the problem; also known as me. “You’re flunking?”
“Only one class,” I correct.
“Yeah, but it’s fucking Phi 101,” supplies Theo, which has Oakley’s expression shifting into one of those you’ve gotta be joking looks.
“How?”
“The million-dollar question,” comes from Holden. “But we’ve yet to get an answer for it.”
I take in a deep breath and then exhale slowly, at war with myself about telling them what’s really going on. But just dropping hey, by the way, I’m actually dyslexic after years of friendship doesn’t really feel like the best game plan. So I offer a vague alternative instead.
“I guess I’m just struggling with…understanding the material.”
“Well, if you actually read it, that problem would take care of itself. You can’t just learn this shit through osmosis.”
Yeah, thanks, T. It would be helpful if reading wasn’t nearly impossible for me.
“Why don’t you ask Logan for some help?” Oakley offers offhandedly, to which Holden snorts.
“We’re talking about the same Logan here?” he asks, arching a brow. “The one who was ready to light every single one of us on fire for even breathing last year?”
“In his defense, I couldn’t wait to escape the whole lot of you after graduation,” Oakley says with a shrug.
“Didn’t realize moving to New York City would make you even more of a jackass,” Theo chirps, while Holden tosses up his middle finger to the camera.
“Ah, don’t let him lie to you,” Quinton’s disembodied voice calls from off screen. “He misses you guys more than he’s willing to say. Cries himself to sleep over it every night.”
Oakley rolls his eyes. “Can we get back on task here?”
“Oh, not as much fun when you’re the one with the target on your back, is it?” Theo mutters indignantly, and Holden raises his hands.
“Hey, in my defense, I just caught the end of you saying get married when I joined the call.
“So that automatically means I’m the one getting married? Without telling any of you?”
“Hell if I know, man! You kept your entire relationship a secret. Who’s to say you wouldn’t do the same thing when you tie the knot?” Holden reasons, and Phoenix nudges him with his elbow.
“Uh, pot, meet kettle,” Phoenix reminds him. “Literally for all of us.”
“Not me,” I chime in with a big smile.
Oakley pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters, “Talking to the lot of you is like herding fucking cats.”
“But they’re your herd of cats, baby,” Quinton supplies, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Anyway,” Oakley interjects loudly. “Try asking Logan. He got like a 1480, or something ridiculous like that, on his SAT.”
“1480, and he’s at Leighton getting an art degree?” asks Holden.
“Wait, you can get a degree in art?” I find myself blurting out. “Why did none of you tell me that? I could’ve been smooth sailing it this entire time.”
“Cam. Buddy,” Quinton says gently. “You still have to be good at art to get a degree in it.”
I frown. “Isn’t art kinda subjective, though?”
“Well, even subjectively…you’d fail at art,” Phoenix pipes up, his face pulled back in a bit of a grimace. “I mean, do you remember those kama sutra stick figures you drew when you first met Kason? You spent an hour drawing those, and…”
I rack my brain for a moment, homing in on the memory, before I feel myself grimace too. “Okay, yeah. Maybe you have a point.”
“And you guys wonder why I hate group chat FaceTimes,” Oakley mutters before wrapping back around to the original topic.
“And speaking of points, Logan obviously tests well. I’m not saying it will work, but maybe he can give you a couple cram session tips or something. I don’t know. Just a thought.”
It’s a good idea—better than anything I have at the moment—but unfortunately, I don’t know how helpful it would be in practice.
But, of course, none of them are aware of the real reason I do so poorly in my classes, despite being my best friends.
So how would they know putting the dyslexic kid in a class where he has to read a shit ton has nothing to do with knowing how to study?
“Yeah…uh,” I stammer before scrubbing a palm over my face. “I guess there’s no harm in asking.”
“Just make sure you record it when he laughs in your face,” Theo chirps with a grin.
“Hey, don’t put that in the universe,” Holden chides. “Maybe Logan will surprise us all by taking on a charity case.”
I force out a laugh, ignoring the way the comment gets under my skin a bit.
Mostly because I know there’s no malice behind it—we all rib and dig at each other.
It’s just that, more often than not, I’m the butt of the joke.
A lot of those times it’s because I do or say something to deserve it, so I can’t be too mad.
Right now, though? When I’m facing the possibility of losing out on everything I’ve worked for? Well, I kinda just wish they’d give me a pass, even if I did get myself into this situation to begin with.
“Okay, well, we’re just sitting in the long-term parking lot now, so…” Theo trails off.
“Yeah, Nix and I need to head out anyway. We’re having dinner with Kason and Hayes.”
“Bullshit that you guys see my best friend more than I do,” Quinton grumbles, and Oakley chuckles.
“And you say I’m the one crying myself to sleep from missing my friends.”
With that, both Theo and Holden hang up, heading off to continue with their respective evenings. Oakley lingers, though, keeping me on the phone while he and Quinton finish eating. But soon enough, they need to go too, and a pit forms in my stomach as we say goodbye.
I drop my phone to the mattress beside me after the call goes dead, alone with my thoughts once again.
For the briefest second there, in the midst of all the banter and bullshitting, it felt like they were still here.
Like nothing had changed, and we haven’t been split apart to different states and time zones across the country.
I sigh and drag a pillow over my face, allowing myself the night to wallow in self-pity.
Because the reality is, my friends are gone, leaving me to live with a bunch of strangers, and the only guy I do know hates my guts. And to make matters worse, I’m now flunking a class, and the entire internet has seen me do the helicopter with my dick.
Senior year fucking blows.