Chapter 10 #2
Dumbfounded by the sheer chaos of his drunken ramblings, for sure.
There’s definitely a bit of irritation in my stomach as well, though that’s simply because I’ll have to leave the comfort of my bed to go get him from the party.
But before I honor his request to call him, I can’t stop myself from rewinding the audio to listen to his poor rendition of 2012’s most annoying pop song a couple more times.
It’s endearing, funnily enough. Kinda cute, even, which is entirely unexpected.
I try to push the thought from my mind as I hit the call button on his contact, tapping my fingers on my sketchbook while waiting for him to pick up.
“Lil Reed, hi,” he slurs, answering the phone on the second ring. “What did I do to owe this pleasure of your calling?”
From that sentence alone, I realize he’s far more drunk than I initially thought.
“Uh, you asked me for a ride. And told me to call you.”
“I did do that, didn’t I?”
I bite back a laugh. “Yeah, you did. Can you tell me where you are so I can come get you?”
There’s a pause, then him grumbling something under his breath before he says, “Uhm… I am sitting on the curb. Outside of the house with the weird letters. You know, why are letters like that? Makes it harder for dyslexics like me. We don’t even do normal letters.”
Once again, it takes all of my mental fortitude not to bust up at his adorable, drunken musings. The only way I manage this time is by focusing on the task at hand: picking him up from this party.
Swapping to speaker phone, I pull up my Maps app and notice all of the frat and sorority houses are on the other side of campus. There’s also a lot more of them than I initially thought.
But which one is he at, again? Kappa Sig, right?
Fuck it, it doesn’t matter. I’ll drive the length of Greek Row to find him if I need to.
“I’ll be over there in fifteen minutes. Can you do me a favor and stay right where you are?” I ask.
“Yes siree, Bob. I will—”
The phone suddenly goes dead in the middle of his sentence. At first, I think it’s because he accidentally hung up, which wouldn’t be a surprise when he’s this intoxicated. Except, when I go to call him back, it goes straight to voicemail, and that can only mean one thing.
His phone died.
Shit.
I’m off the bed and down the stairs in less than a minute, and I make the drive to Greek Row in ten rather than fifteen. The entire time, I silently pray to whatever deity might hear me that Camden listened, staying put and not wandering off without a working phone.
As I creep down the street, I do my best to make out the silhouettes walking around outside the line of houses, not knowing where I’ll wind up finding him. He’s certainly not outside the Kappa Sig house, which is where I swear they told me the party was.
Luck seems to be on my side, though, because a few houses from the end of the block, I finally spot a familiar form donning a hoodie and denim jacket.
He’s sitting on the curb in front of the Phi Mu house, his blond head slumped over his knees like he’s asleep.
Or more likely, just finished throwing up.
“Camden!” I call out the open passenger window.
The sound of his name has his head lifting groggily for a second, only for it to slump back down. I call to him again, and though it takes him a second to place the direction it’s coming from, his gaze lands on my car this time.
A huge smile crosses his face as he stumbles to stand, almost tripping over his own feet in the process, before trudging toward my car.
“There’s my man,” he slurs while I shove open the passenger door from the inside.
It’s meant to be a thoughtful move, saving him from the tedious task of pulling on the handle while he’s three sheets to the wind, but his body collides with the door instead, effectively closing it again.
I peer up at him through the open window. “Hi. You doing okay?”
“Yeah. But you hung up on me,” he grumbles.
“I think your phone died, actually.”
He frowns and pulls his phone from the pocket of his hoodie. Tapping on the screen a few times, his frown deepens into something of a scowl.
“That was fuckin’ rude of it.”
I can’t help the snort that sneaks out before I motion toward the passenger seat. “Well, are you getting in?”
“For why?”
“So I can take you home.”
He smiles, all big and dopey. “My boyfriend wants to take me home?”
Heat singes my cheeks, not really sure how to answer, especially when he’s looking at me like that.
Thankfully, he saves me from having to by clumsily yanking on the door handle and clambering inside.
I’m expecting I’ll have to buckle him in, but apparently his hand-eye coordination is still in working condition, sparing me from discomfort once again.
It’s only when I pull back onto the street in the direction of home that I think to ask about Willow and Lexi. After all, they’re the ones he came here with, and they were nowhere to be found when I picked him up.
“Where did the girls go?”
“Food with Willow’s sisters, I think?” he replies, and I quickly piece together he means her sorority sisters, since Willow only has a brother biologically. “But I dunno for sure. They said something about waffles at the house?”
It takes all of two seconds to figure that one out too.
Keeping my attention locked on the road, I ask, “And you didn’t want to go with them? Sounds like your kind of time.”
The words come out more bitter than I intended, and I don’t understand why. There’s no reason for me to be jealous if he’d gone with them—we’re not actually dating.
“No, the holes freak me out. Pancakes is where it’s at. I like those better,” he says, the ramblings enough to pull me out of my spiraling thoughts. “I like you reading to me too. It’s really nice to listen to in the shower. Is that weird?”
I frown, not sure where the random subject change came from.
“What are you talking about?”
“The notes you read to me from Theo and Holden. They really work. I’ve learned lots about…
Can’t,” he babbles, pronouncing the name wrong, but I don’t have the heart to correct him.
A little smile tugs at his lips as he rolls his head to look at me.
“But I just like your voice. So smooth and silky, like a blanket I wanna snuggle in.”
“Uh…thank you?”
“Welcome. Now, keep talking.”
My brows collide when I glance at him again. “Why?”
“I just said I like your voice as a blanket, okay?” He lets out a noise—some combination of a scoff and huff—before muttering, “And you call me dumb.”
His sass is on a whole different level, which may have annoyed me in the past. But if anything, I’m entertained.
And also kind of glad he mentioned the recordings I made him.
I hadn’t realized he began listening to any of them.
Sure, that’s what they’re for, but I guess I hadn’t given much thought to it after giving him the flashdrive, and he never mentioned them until now.
But it’s good he’s making use of them, especially if it’s helping him learn the material.
“Logan,” he whispers, my name leaving his lips rather sluggishly.
“Yes, Camden?”
“I’m sorry you had to come get me.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him, finding I really mean it.
Sure, I’d rather still be tucked into bed right now, but I much prefer this than the alternative of him getting behind the wheel in this state. Or getting in a car with someone else who had been drinking.
“I didn’t want to be there anymore,” he states plainly.
“Were you not having fun?”
“I was ‘til someone tried to kiss me. A guy at the party. I think his name was Josh. No, Jason? I dunno. Some J name.” He lets out a little huff before continuing, “But I said ‘No, I have a boyfriend named Logan.’”
Warmth spreads through my chest, his confession hitting me in the most unexpected way.
With the way I’ve seen him act—all the people he’s brought through his revolving bedroom door—I’d have thought he didn’t know a thing about being faithful.
As it turns out, even shitfaced out of his mind, he still made sure to stay loyal to our fake relationship.
And for some reason, I’m sort of…moved by it.
“Ugh, nooo. You’re mad,” he grouses, only to hit me with the most insane set of puppy-dog eyes I’ve ever seen on a human. “Are you breaking up with me now?”
“Is it really breaking up if we aren’t actually dating?” I counter.
“I dunno. You’re the smart one. You tell me.”
I chuckle softly. “You just called me dumb like two minutes ago.”
“‘Cause I wanted you to keep talking,” he says, like I somehow missed how obvious his intentions were. “And see? It worked. Maybe I’m smarter after all.”
I chuckle, thoroughly amused by his antics.
While I was expecting the drunk version of Camden to annoy me to no end, he’s actually pretty funny.
Kinda cute too, but in the same way a sad little puppy on the side of the road is cute.
It may be covered in fleas and smell like it lived its whole life in a sewer, but there’s no chance I’m just leaving it there to get hit by a car.
And damn if that look he just gave me isn’t enough to melt even my ice-cold heart.
“Tell you what,” I start, glancing at him. “I’ll only fake break up with you if you throw up in my car. Think you can handle that?”
“Mhmm,” he murmurs as another dopey little smile crosses his face.
That’s enough to keep him quiet for the remainder of our drive back to the townhouse.
I offer him some support while getting out of the car once we arrive, but he insists on walking himself inside.
He stumbles up the walkway and almost trips on the front steps, but somehow he manages to make it through the front door without my help.
However, that’s where his luck runs out. The second I flick on the living room light, I catch him flying ass over tea kettle, evidently tripped by the couch on his way to the stairs. He lands behind it with a loud thud, and a wave of panic has me rushing to his side.
“Shit. Are you okay?” I ask, dropping to my knees beside him.