Look at You

Chapter 24

24

You better be coming tonight. 8:30.

I sigh and toss my phone back on my bed. I've been debating sitting at home and finishing the last run of my stuff to the apartment, but clearly, Callie's onto me. She always knows exactly where my head is at.

I'm at home—still. The bed frame isn't put together because I can't do it alone, and I'm too proud to ask Jay to come over, so I'm waiting until I inevitably show up on Cameron's doorstep this weekend and beg for him because I'm running on empty. I can't do this much longer. It's been a week without him and I already feel like a retired video game character. I've lost all my mojo, all my umph, all my get-up and go. I feel like I'm walking around with a giant question mark floating above my head that broadcasts this kid is lost, alone, and sad.

I start rehearsing lines in my head for tomorrow. I've been an idiot. I promise I'll show you how much I care. With what? Who fucking knows. I'm hoping something comes to me on the ride to his house because I've been coming up absolutely empty all week.

I pick up the phone and dial Trey. I decide if I have to go to this event, so does he.

Surprisingly, he doesn't have plans. He's coming by before 8 so we arrive on time because I told him that's important. Callie mentioned she needed help tapping a keg.

When he arrives, I sprint out to the car to avoid the inevitable 15-minute interlude with my parents and their second favorite mid-twenties child. Although, Cameron may be coming in closer these days. He's already made breakfast alone with my mother, which now that I've said it aloud, sounds a lot creepier than I hope it was.

"Hey man," I slide inside, shoving a case of Blue Moon into the back of his sedan. I already see Trey has stopped at the liquor store for another case of beer like I've asked. Best not to show up empty-handed. (Plus, Callie's terrified the keg won't work.)

"Damn, Love." Trey is eyeing me up like I'm a Christmas ham. "What's this tight number? And are you wearing cologne?"

I roll my eyes at him, pulling the door closed. This tight number is a long sleeve hooded shirt thing my mom has brought me home from lulu as a thank you for leaving my house present.

"It's lulu," I shrug. He's familiar with my propensity to shop only at three stores.

"It's tight." His eyebrows are in his receding hairline. "I can see all two of your muscles."

"Ha ha. Very funny," I shove him with my elbow. "It's a party, Trey."

"Yeah, but you never put in the effort. You wear the same shit every weekend. And is that—you got a haircut? And back to the cologne—" He's fussing with the hair I've just taught to sit perfectly on my head, so I shimmy away from him and place his hands firmly on the wheel.

"Just drive damn it!"

I know I'm going to see Cam. Of course, I'm going to see Cam. So, am I going to put in a little effort and take off the Big Hero Six Band Aid? Well yes and no. Mom still only has that Disney brand.

Trey, in fact, does not just drive. "Who is it?"

I look dead ahead. "Who's who."

I'm a shit poker face. Trey calls me on it. "Oh, come on, the girl you're trying to impress!"

Trey assumes the person is a girl because that's been a pattern for me lately, not because he doesn't know I'm bisexual.

"I don't want to be late," I tell him. "Can you start driving?" He doesn't, so I offer, "It's not a girl."