Chapter 5 #2
His voice cracks a little bit on the final few words, and for the first time, I see a side of my roommate I never knew existed. Gone is the mask of the charming, happy-go-lucky golden retriever, the playboy of the hockey team, the guy who’s always wearing a smile.
In his place is a person who is just as self-conscious as the rest of us.
Just as embarrassed and insecure by his shortcomings, despite that this one is something far out of his control.
And for some reason, I can’t stop myself from reaching over and placing my hand on his arm. His gaze drops to where I’m touching him, remaining there briefly, before lifting back to meet mine.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, okay?”
“Says the one with a perfectly normal brain.”
“Plenty of people who have perfectly normal”—I raise my free hand to do airquotes around the word—“brains do and say stupid shit. But being dyslexic has nothing to do with your decision-making.”
He murmurs a clipped, “Right,” and paired with the way he pulls away from me and crosses his arms over his chest, it’s obvious he doesn’t believe me. Then again, I haven’t really given him any reason to when I’ve torn him down right along with everyone else.
“I’m serious. Like, scientifically, those are two different parts of the brain.” Grabbing my phone, I quickly pull up the search bar in Google and start typing. “If you don’t believe me, I can easily find some articles for you to read about—”
I cut myself off, realizing the words I just said, and silently curse myself for being so tactless. Because, yeah, let’s give medical articles to someone who struggles with reading on his best days.
That’s surely the right move to raise his self-esteem; brilliant fucking idea, Logan.
Camden’s lips pull inward and he shakes his head before murmuring, “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” After glancing at the smart watch on his wrist, he adds, “And looks like we’re out of time anyway.”
In a rushed move, he reaches over to grab his phone and the notebooks on my side of the table, shoving all of it in his bag before I can so much as blink. It’s so fast, I can’t even make a coherent thought before he’s out of his chair, hauling his bag onto his shoulder, and heading for the door.
“Camden—”
“Sorry for making you waste your time when, clearly, I’m a lost cause,” he says, his hand on the handle. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me staring after him all over again.
Having the smallest amount of hope that Camden will change his mind, I still keep the study room booked for the following night. Of course, when the entire block of time ticks by without a sign of him, I gather my things and head back home, a sense of defeat and guilt warring in my head.
I can’t quite put a finger on why I care so much.
Yeah, sure, I need him to keep his end of the deal for the whole fake boyfriend lie, but deep down, I know it has nothing to do with that.
It’s something about the look on his face last night.
It’s like it thawed this part of me that’s remained cold and impervious toward him, forcing me to realize he’s more than just the arrogant jock I’ve made him out to be.
He’s a human, and he’s struggling with something most people take for granted.
My mind lingers on him for most of the evening, wondering if he’ll at least take some of the advice I offered, even if he won’t take my help. Part of me hopes that’s the reason he’s nowhere to be seen when I get back to the townhouse, his car missing from the driveway far longer than normal.
It’s only when I run directly into his shirtless form at the bathroom door close to ten at night that I realize he’s finally home.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, keeping his gaze toward the floor as he ducks around me. “I thought you were asleep.”
He doesn’t stop, just continues down the hall toward his room, leaving me to stare at his retreating form until I finally find my voice again.
“I waited for you. In the library, I mean.”
The statement causes him to pause, his muscled back going rigid before he turns to look at me. I can tell he’s doing his best to mask his emotions, but is struggling regardless, when a single, raspy word leaves him.
“Why?”
“Because we had a deal.”
He clears his throat and runs his fingers through his blond hair before tossing his hand up between us.
“Yeah, we should probably just call that, you know. It’s a lost cause, right?
No need to put you through the misery of helping me with school.
Plus, I’m pretty sure my reputation is beyond repair in the eyes of the NHL anyway.
” He offers a wry smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Not like that matters if I’m ineligible to play. ”
“Except it’s not pointless, and you’re not going to be ineligible,” I reason, feeling more confident my words are the truth than makes sense. “We can knock out those make-up assignments before the end of the week, and after that, we can focus on the second half of the semester.”
His gaze trails over my face momentarily before he offers me a sad sort of smile. “But what’s the point? What happens if I try and then still end up with the same result? Then it was all for nothing and we both wasted our time.”
“Yeah, that’s a possibility,” I concede, nodding. “Wouldn’t you rather know you gave it your all and failed than to give up completely and always wonder? Wouldn’t you rather know you did everything you could, and that maybe some things just aren’t meant to be?”
If I am anything, it’s a realist. I know there’s a chance this could all go sideways—for both of us, actually. But that’s not a reason to not try, in my opinion.
His lips roll inward as his face takes on a pensive expression, like he really is trying to figure out which option is better. Or maybe he’s determining which would hurt the least.
“Why do you care?” he finally asks.
“The real question is why you’re pretending like you don’t.”
“I do. I just…” He looks away, the insecurity I saw yesterday returning in an instant. “I don’t want to feel like I’m taking so much from you and giving nothing in return. Especially if it doesn’t work. I don’t want to waste your time.”
“Don’t worry about that, okay?” I tell him, doing my best to sound encouraging. “You can do this. And you’re not taking anything I’m not offering willingly. I want to help you.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize just how genuine they are. Just how much I mean it when I say I want to help him. Not because of the deal, not out of selfishness, but because, in a way, I understand what he’s going through.
He needs someone to believe in him, despite how the odds may be stacked against him. Despite him not being able to believe in himself right now.
I know what that’s like more than I care to admit.
Hesitation lingers in his gaze, and he shakes his head, whispering, “I don’t know, Little Reed.”
“I get that you’re afraid admitting you need help means you’ll prove people right—that they’ll think you’re stupid.
But you’re also the one who said shame is a useless emotion,” I remind him gently.
“So I don’t understand why you’re letting it control you.
And at what cost? Your entire future? Because that seems like a steep price to pay for the opinions of people who won’t matter this time next year. ”
He knows I’m right. It’s obvious from the way his expression softens and his body language shifts, some of the tension in his back and shoulders releasing as his hand drops from the doorknob. So I wait, giving him the chance to change his mind.
Yet a full minute ticks by, and he remains silent and steadfast in his resolve.
I sigh and turn to head into the bathroom, accepting this conversation isn’t going anywhere but in circles with no clear end. But then my name falling from his lips as I pull open the bathroom door halts me in my tracks.
“Logan?”
Turning slightly, I find him rooted in place outside his bedroom, watching me.
“Yeah?”
“I know we were supposed to study earlier but…” He trails off, looking down at the floor, then back at me. “Um, are you busy right now?”
Something odd and completely unexpected happens with his question. Warmth floods to my extremities, almost like my blood has turned into warm tea with honey. It’s the strangest thing, and it takes me a second to realize…it’s relief.
“Let me shower quick, then I’m all yours,” I promise, unable to hide the way my lips curl up at one corner.
A hint of a smile pulls at his mouth too, and he nods. “As a good fake boyfriend should be.”