2. Cameron
TWO
cameron
“Did you see what Lenni was wearing?” Reeve smirks as we walk out into the hallway.
“Hard not to,” I say. Lenni in a tight top might be the reason I fail Applied Statistics this semester. Now that she’s suddenly started wearing clothes that aren’t two sizes too big, it’s impossible to ignore the fact that her body is nothing but soft curves as far as the eye can see. I pull out my phone for distraction because I know what Reeve’s going to say next and I’m not in the mood.
“You know why? ’Cause I told her I liked her in that tight top. She’s under my thumb.”
I don’t want to admit he’s right.
“All of a sudden she’s proud of her tits and we’re all richer for it,” he continues. “Call me an asshole, but I do have a knack for making girls feel good about their bodies.”
“You’re skilled at spreading joy to a certain subset of the female population, I’ll give you that. Too bad you usually follow it up by making them cry.”
Reeve laughs. “Don’t be jealous. Now that Kira’s finally set you free, time for you to break some hearts of your own. Let’s see what kind of friends Lenni brings on Saturday night. I bet she rolls with a few hot little bookworms.”
“Suddenly you’re into chicks who can read? Let’s pray your evolution from complete Neanderthal doesn’t affect your throwing arm.”
“Evolution? Don’t get crazy. I’m just trying to spice things up for all of us. You can thank me when some nerd chick is in your bed wearing glasses and nothing else.”
But not only am I not interested in Lenore’s—er, Lenni’s friends, I’m hoping she doesn’t even show up Saturday night. This thing with her and Reeve is still new and already I can’t stand the awkwardness of being in the same room as them. See, what Reeve doesn’t know is that she and I have a history. And I’m starting to think Lenni doesn’t even know it herself.
“Man, I’m starving,” Reeve says as we cut across campus. “You coming to lunch?”
“Not today. I need to hit this study session before my exam tomorrow.”
Reeve barks out a laugh. “Study session? What happened, grades are slipping down to a solid A-minus?”
I tell him, kind of sheepishly, that the girl who usually leads the student study sessions is out with mono and our professor asked me to lead today’s group. Even though Reeve and I have known each other since seventh grade, I feel weird sometimes talking to him about grades. He’s smart as hell, but learning disabilities—most of which were diagnosed late—have always made school challenging for him. He plays it cool, but I know our academic differences get to him.
But today, he nods approvingly. “That’s cool, Cam. It’s about time your teachers recognized your grades aren’t dumb luck.”
“Thanks. Hey, Lorenzo needs to know if you want in on the poker game Thursday. I’ll spot you.” Lorenzo, our middle linebacker and my freshman roommate, hosts a poker night that’s almost always more fun than hitting the bars.
“No can do. Big Dina’s in town Thursday, remember?”
“Oh, right. That’s good, man. Bet she’s pumped to see you on the field.”
Reeve nods and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah...we’ll see.”
Reeve’s mom, Dina, hasn’t always been around, and secretly I wonder if he’s better off because of it. I hate seeing the nervous quiet that comes over my normally brash friend when one of her rare visits is on the horizon.
“Is that your whole night?” I ask.
“Probably. I figured I’d take her for dinner in town.”
“Yeah, that reminds me.” I take my wallet from my pocket and pull out a silver gift card. “Here.” I hand it to him.
Reeve looks at the card, then at me. “What’s this?”
“Can you read?”
Reeve checks the card again and his eyebrows jump. “Bistro Violette. Hold up, what? You’re giving this to me?”
“It’s not really for you, it’s for Dina. I’ll let you take her, though.”
Reeve smiles. “Come on, man. Seriously? This is the nicest restaurant between here and Chicago. And wasn’t this a gift from Kira’s family?”
“What am I going to do, walk in there with my dick in my hand and ask for a table for two? I don’t need it.”
“There’s not one chick in this town who wouldn’t give her left tit for dinner with you at Violette.” He holds the gift card out to me.
“Take it. Tell Dina I owe her one.”
“At least come with us.”
I shake my head. “That’s all you.”
Reeve taps the card against his open palm and looks at me like he’s trying to figure out what to say. Finally, he smiles. “Yeah, all right. Thanks, Cam.” He gives my chest a smack with the back of his palm. “Think I need a suit for this place? Can I borrow one off you?”
“Yeah, like you could ever fill out the shoulders.” I squeeze his shoulder, then push him away. “Nah, shirt and tie are all you need.”
“Good. I’d probably bust right through the crotch of your little suit pants anyway.”
I laugh. “Keep the dream alive, man.”
The study session goes fine, if not a little awkwardly. I could practically smell the skepticism coming off the other students when they realized I was leading for the day, but I get a kick out of proving to people that I’m not some dumb jock. Those students just better ace the exam.
I’m leaving the library after the session when I spot Lenni lingering between the stacks, searching for a book. She’s thinking; I can tell because the tip of her tongue is touching her top lip, a move I always catch her making when she’s concentrating in class. She’s out of sight within seconds, but I know what’ll happen next. I’ll be thinking about her for the next three hours until practice starts, and then my mind clears of everything but football.
I don’t know why this keeps happening. In the last two years, I’ve caught sight of her barely a handful of times on campus, but ever since this weird flirtation between her and Reeve started, I swear she’s everywhere. And she’s definitely not the girl I remember.
Shafer freshman orientation took place during the hottest, muggiest three days of the entire summer. Even though my mom’s house is only twenty minutes from campus, all incoming freshmen had to stay in a dorm, and on our last night, I’d skipped out when the dudes I was rooming with went trolling for girls. I was still holding on to my high school girlfriend—a relationship doomed to end undramatically three weeks later—which made for a good excuse to wander campus and be alone.
I’d stumbled across a sunken garden in the middle of campus, a small rectangle of grass enclosed by shrubs, gnarled trees, and spiky ornamental grasses. A low stone wall doubling as a bench ran along all four sides of the space, and lights hidden among the plants cast exaggerated shadows. I sat down at the far end of the garden, where an old, eroded fountain bubbled away. No one was around. Immediately, I breathed easier.
I was thinking about the school year ahead and that, come August, this spot might be the only place on campus I could be alone when, suddenly, I wasn’t alone anymore.
A girl wandered down the steps, her eyes on the ground like she hadn’t even realized what she’d just walked into. The first thing I noticed was that she was wearing men’s basketball shorts and a baggy T-shirt. The second thing I noticed was the way the garden lighting shone on her wet, tear-stained face.
Instinctively, I stood up like I was being summoned. She saw me and stopped short, her expression caught halfway between crying and surprise. “Oh.” She looked around. “Are you... ?”
“No,” I said, not even knowing what she was asking. I sat and motioned to the empty space between us to let her know she was free to be. “Go ahead.” Just as naturally as if this raggedy garden was marked on the campus map as the Place to Feel Your Feelings. She nodded and found a seat in the corner farthest from me, then pulled her legs up onto the bench and retreated into herself.
I was glad she wanted to be left alone and that I didn’t have the uncomfortable job of trying to soothe her. Growing up with the mother I did, I’m used to women’s tears, but a stranger is a different business. But after a few minutes and a few soft sobs out of her, I felt like a complete dick.
“Do you need help?” I asked. “I can call someone for you.”
She shook her head quickly. “I’m okay. Just . . . there’s nowhere to be alone on this campus, is there?” She sniffed.
“I was wondering the same thing.”
We returned to silence. Reeve texted to ask where I was, but I didn’t answer and instead turned my phone to silent. I knew I should leave soon—I felt for the sad chick, but she’d killed the mood. Then I heard a snuffling sound; she was chuckling.
“I just realized what you meant when you said you were wondering the same thing. You found the one place at Shafer you could be alone, and I walked in and ruined it. Sorry about that.”
“No, I just meant I get it—wanting to be alone.”
She looked at me like she was hoping I’d keep talking.
“So no,” I said, suddenly self-conscious that I’d outed myself as someone who needed alone time. It didn’t fit with the unfazed image we freshmen all seemed required to project. “I don’t mind you being here.”
It got quiet, but the mood had changed. Instead of two strangers silently trying to ignore each other, we were two strangers together in silence. At least that’s how I felt. And the way her body relaxed, and her tears dried up, I think she felt it too.
“If I tell you why I’m here, will you tell me why you are?” she said after a while.
I looked over to find her directing a small smile at the fountain in front of her. I wasn’t sure what to say and while I hesitated, she slung her gaze my way. “Sorry. I thought at first that was too weird of a question to ask a stranger, but then . . . ” She trailed off.
“No, your first instinct was right, definitely too weird. Luckily, I’m kind of a weird guy.”
She chuckled, looking embarrassed. Her grin transformed her face, wide and bright and showing off perfect white teeth. It was the first authentic laugh I’d earned in a while. Girls are always suspiciously quick to laugh at what I say.
“Why am I here?” I said thoughtfully. My brain readied a generic excuse sure to get her off my back, but I stopped. I didn’t want her off my back. “I guess I needed a break from the freshman orientation scene.”
“What scene is that?” Her tone told me she already knew.
“The one where everyone pretends they’re chill as fuck about leaving home forever.”
“When we’re really scared shitless, you mean?”
“Right. Everyone acts like an unfriendly asshole to prove how not scared shitless they are.”
She nodded.
“I guess I do it too,” I admitted. “But at least I do the normal thing and show up here to have a proper cry all alone.”
She laughed. “Oh, so you came here to cry too? Why didn’t you say so?”
“Seemed indecent, stealing your thunder.”
“I’m done if you’d like to have your turn.”
“Nah. I think I’m better now.” At this, her expression seemed to glow.
Loud voices erupted from somewhere near the dorm, a few guys shouting and a girl laughing. Coming closer. She looked at me, putting her finger to her mouth; be quiet . I slid over a few inches, so my back was against a bushy shrub. The plants made a thin wall, but someone walking by would only have to peer between a couple ornamental trees to see beyond them. We looked at each other as we listened to the group approaching. The moment built. Humor danced in her eyes, like she was about to laugh, which made me want to laugh. It was silly; we had nothing to hide. By the time the voices were right behind me, my heart beat hard in my chest. Maybe we had nothing to hide, but if someone walked in, it wouldn’t be just us anymore, and in the moment, that felt like the worst thing that could happen.
When the group passed and their voices finally faded into the distance, we both let out the laugh we’d been holding in.
“Close one,” I said, and she nodded enthusiastically.
And that was the way it went; skipping the small talk and going straight for the things we were too embarrassed to tell our own friends. But mostly laughing about them. She told me about growing up with a single mom and the much-younger brother who was clearly the bright spot in her life, and the fiction she wrote in her spare time. Later, when she hesitantly asked me if I’d really come here to have a cry, her gullibility made me realize instantly, I had a little crush on her.
It didn’t hurt that she had the most perfect lips I’ve ever seen. But it went beyond that. She was easy to be around in a way I wasn’t used to. It wasn’t just that she was undemanding. I knew plenty of girls who acted happy to go along with whatever I wanted to do, laughed at whatever jokes were told. What drew me in was how certain I felt that she wasn’t trying to make me believe she was anyone except who she was. She wasn’t any particular type of girl, and she didn’t need me to be any particular type of guy. She didn’t ask if I played sports or if I planned to join a frat or what my major would be. I was glad not to share.
It was an instant friendship, deep in the way only temporary friendships can be. We didn’t even exchange names until the night was almost over. She’d introduced herself as Lenore.
When we said goodbye a few hours later, I watched her walk out of the garden, wishing there was more to it than that. I wanted more of her. The air felt thick with humidity and my own guilt as I headed back to the dorm. Even though I hadn’t flirted with her, I felt something I’d never felt for my girlfriend, for any girl. I just didn’t know what it was. It took me months to figure it out, months of hanging out with self-important athletes and the preening girls who wanted to claim us. Lenore didn’t want anything from me except conversation.
She didn’t treat me like anyone in particular—not an athlete to be fawned over or a dumb jock to roll her eyes at. I didn’t have to be Cam Forrester, devoted son and winning receiver and future pro athlete. I didn’t feel the urge to mention my GPA to prove that it was more than my skill at catching a football that landed me admission at Shafer. With Lenore, I could just be.
I knew what I saw in her. A girl who knew who she was, even if she didn’t always like it. Someone willing to show me who she was, even if it embarrassed her. That wasn’t something you did in my circle. But it was all a one-off.
I didn’t see her again until months later at some house party where I got way too drunk. I was there with some guys from the team, and under the dim glow of a flickering porch light, one of them gestured too wildly with his plastic cup and sent a wave of neon-red jungle juice straight into the chest of a girl walking by. It took me a minute to realize the girl was Lenore, and in my slow drunken state, another minute to react. The guys I was with weren’t too slow, though. They laughed or smirked, some of them having the decency to try to hide their smiles behind their cups, but all of them responding like dicks. I remember fumbling uselessly, trying to think of something to say as I yanked a damp beach towel off the deck railing and handed it to her. I couldn’t believe it was her. But she barely looked at me as she took it.
“Hey,” I’d said, thinking she’d recognize me instantly. “We were?—”
“Chill, Prince Charming,” one of my teammates said loudly, clapping me on the back. “She looks better now anyway.”
Lenore had looked hotly at him, then gave me a quick glare as she turned away. And that was that. I remember staring at her back as she hurried off, my brain yelling at my mouth to say something , even just her name, but nothing came out.
After that, ignoring each other became the norm. I never saw her at another party, never had a class with her, just spotted her once in a while crossing the quad or starting up the stairs as I came down. She didn’t acknowledge me, and I pretended not to care. But her indifference stung. Apparently our night in the garden hadn’t meant as much to her as it had to me. That or maybe she didn’t even recognize me as the guy she met at orientation. I had cut my hair the first week of practice after Coach told me I looked like I should’ve been shoving flowers down the barrel of an M14 rifle.
Whatever her reason, it doesn’t matter now. The other week, she showed up to our Applied Statistics class wearing this tight red top which was impossible not to notice because a) she’s stacked, and b) I’ve never seen her in anything that didn’t look like it was borrowed from a boyfriend. That top was like catnip for Reeve, and when he told her how good she looked, she lit up like a Christmas tree. And ever since, I’ve been watching him play his game and her fall for it like a lost puppy, and wondering what the hell happened to her.
Now I know she doesn’t hate me for being an athlete; I’m just waiting for the moment she offers to do Reeve’s homework for him and enters into full jersey-chaser mode. So the question nags harder at me: Why is she pretending not to know me?