Cassius #2
I skate until my lungs burn and my thighs ache and the worst of the anger has died down. When I finally roll back to her, she hands me my burrito like she’s crowning me king of the court.
“Look at you. Campus’ very own angry Tony Hawk.”
“You’re annoying,” I say, but I can’t stop the hint of a smile.
We eat, talk shit about people’s boards, point out the worst outfits. For a little while, it’s easy again. Just us.
Then my phone rings.
Not a text. A call.
A motherfucking call.
Stacey.
Zae’s eyes flick to the screen lighting up in my hand. She tries to act like she’s not listening, but she goes quiet and stares off toward the trees.
“Take it. I’ll… watch people fall. Free entertainment.”
I sigh and answer, standing up and walking a few steps away.
“Hey.”
“Hey?” Her voice is sharp, too loud. “That’s all you have to say?”
And here we go.
“Well, no. But Stace, come on. I told you I was helping Zae move in.” I keep my voice low. No one needs to hear this. Least of all Zae. “It took longer than I thought.”
“It always does with her,” Stacey snaps. "You made me look like I didn’t matter to you when the chair I saved stayed empty.”
Guilt pricks, but irritation rises right behind it.
“I promise I’ll make it up to you. I just couldn’t bail on Zae today. It’s not like—”
“You always choose her.” She cuts me off. “You always choose her!”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Breathe in.
Now out.
Stay calm.
“This is her first day being here,” I say, as calm and soft as possible. “It’s a big deal. She doesn’t have anyone else.”
“Maybe not. But she’s not your responsibility.” Her voice wobbles. “I am. Don’t I matter to you?”
That hits lower. In the part of me that knows she’s not completely wrong.
“Stace—”
“She’s not even your girlfriend, Cass. She’s just some emo girl who—”
I see red, because this isn’t Zae’s fault. It’s mine. Stacey shouldn’t be taking her anger out on Zae.
And maybe I’m a little too protective of her.
“Don’t,” I warn quietly. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
There’s a beat of stunned silence on the line.
“Oh my God.” I can picture her clapping a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
My stomach drops.
“No,” comes out automatically, too fast, too hard. “She’s my best friend.”
“You keep saying that like it makes it better.” She sounds tired now. “But you know what? Whatever. Have fun playing house with your little charity case.” Then the line goes dead.
Something in my chest snaps.
I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it like it might morph into something else, then I shove it back in my pocket.
It buzzes again immediately.
So I pull it back out and turn it off.
“Cass?”
I look up to find Zae standing a few feet away, board in hand, eyes searching my face. She looks small and fierce all at once, like she doesn’t know whether to hug me or punch something for me.
“Everything okay?” She tilts her head slightly as she studies me.
No.
“Yeah,” I lie with ease because it’s not hard to. “Just… Stacey.”
Her mouth presses into a line. “Was it about me?”
“It’s always about you,” I throw out before I can stop myself.
Her shoulders flinch.
“Not like that,” I quickly correct, never wanting her to believe I blame her for any of it. I don’t. “She just doesn’t—” I wave a hand between us. “She doesn’t get it.”
“Most people don’t.” Zae shrugs one shoulder, like this doesn’t bother her, but her fingers are white-knuckling her board. “You don’t have to keep… choosing me over her, you know? I can make friends here. I’m not your problem.”
My throat works.
“You’re not a problem. Don’t ever say that again.”
She looks at me, startled. Those big eyes of hers search my face, like she’s trying to read my mind.
“You’re my person,” I blurt, because it’s the only thing that’s both true and safe enough to say. “That’s not changing.”
Her lips part. For a second, I think I’ve gone too far. Then she smiles, that soft smile that guts me a little every time.
“Okay. Just… don’t let me complicate your relationship.”
I huff out a laugh. “You’re not.”
“Liar.” She bumps my elbow with hers.
We end up skating until the sun dips low and the air cools. On the way back to the dorms, she chatters about setting up her gaming PC and what classes she’s dreading, and I let her voice fill up all the spaces in my head.
At her building, we pause at the door.
“You coming up?” she asks, shifting her board from one hand to the other. “Help me set up my gaming stuff? I need your superior cable management skills.”
“My what?”
“You heard me. Mr. Zip Tie.”
I snort. “Yeah. I’ll come up. For a bit.”
Her smile is stupidly bright. “Cool.”
We ride the elevator up with her still talking, because silence is the enemy when it comes to her. I nod along, but I’m only catching every other sentence because my brain’s still replaying Stacey’s voice calling her “some emo girl” and then calling me out.
You’re in love with her.
I’m not.
I can’t be.
I watched Zae nearly fall apart junior year. I saw what it did to her when her dad started turning his anger on her. I drove her to lawyer appointments, sat on my porch with her at three in the morning when she finally got emancipated and didn’t know what to do with all that freedom and fear.
I held her while she shook through more than one nightmare.
I am not allowed to be in love with her. That’s the rule.
I can’t change the nature of our relationship, not when she’s already lost so much.
Her dorm door clicks open and she steps inside, tossing her keys on the desk. “Home sweet shoebox,” she declares, spinning once in the middle of the floor before flopping backward onto her bed.
Her shirt rides up a little, exposing a strip of skin and that star tattoo on her chest peeking out of the collar.
I look away so fast it’s almost whiplash.
“You okay?” she asks from the bed, voice softer now. She’s watching me in that way she does—like she’s got X-ray vision.
“Yeah,” I say. “Just tired.”
“From all that angst.” She waggles her fingers near her face. “The brooding takes it out of you.”
“You’re the worst.”
She flips me off.
“You love me.”
I freeze.
The door swings open before I can do anything useful with that, and a girl steps in carrying a lopsided stack of folders against her chest. She pauses when she sees us in here, with boxes and whatever the hell this looks like from the outside.
“Oh,” she says, dragging the word out as her gaze bounces between me and Zae. “Um, hi. Guess it’s a roommate meeting.”
Zae shifts to stand beside me. “Hi.”
The girl nods once, cautious, like she’s approaching a feral animal situation.
“I’m Riley. I’m a business major, planning to spend most nights studying.
” She glances between us again, eyes narrowing just a little.
“Also, just so we’re clear, if you two are together-together, I have one rule about overnight stuff. I do not want to walk in and—”
“Oh no,” Zae cuts in fast, voice going bright in that way people do when they want to kill a conversation before it gets any worse. “No. We’re just friends.”
Riley looks at her. Then at me. Then back at her.
“Right.” she utters, but her tone says she doesn’t believe a single word Zae just said. “Just friends. Sure.”
Heat crawls up the back of my neck.
Zae gives this little awkward laugh that does not help.
Riley shrugs like she’s decided our weirdness is above her pay grade. “Okay, whatever. Not my business.” She shifts the folders higher against her chest and backs toward the door. “I still have to finish registering before they decide I don’t live here, so I’ll see you guys later.”
Then she’s gone, leaving the door half open behind her and the room somehow even more uncomfortable than it was before.
Zae turns on her heel and grabs the PC parts box, talking about cable routing and pretending that whole interaction didn’t just happen. I let out a breath and drop to my knees next to the tower case, opening the side and following her lead.
“Come on, Grumpy.” She bumps her shoulder into mine as she sits beside me. “Work your magic.”
I focus on the cables and on the screws. I focus on everything except the girl pressed warm against my side, calling my mom “Mama,” calling my dorm her second home, and saying I love you like it’s nothing.
I know if I don’t, Stacey’s voice is going to get louder in my head. My voice will get even louder, saying:
You love her.
You just haven’t admitted it yet.