Camryn Quinn is finally getting what she wants...sort of. Moving into a dorm and away from her not so supportive father is a good first step, but like everything with him, it comes with strings. She must attend the college of his choosing for at lea...
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I've somehow already lost myself in the mere weeks I've been at school. Classes haven't even begun yet, so I don't think I can blame it on an identity crisis brought on by a philosophy course or sole searching after sampling Tai Chi.
Not only have I given in to my dad's wishes twice now, I've also found myself spending time with my brother. Callan too, seems to be losing his way with the amount of phone calls he's made to me, and dinner invitations he's extended.
Every evening that he doesn't have practice has been spent at his apartment or in a dining hall on campus. I would rather swallow nails than admit it to him, but it's actually been semi nice to slip back into easy sibling banter. Things aren't what they used to be, but with each shared basket of fries were inching closer to how our relationship used to feel.
Along with taking an interest in my life again, Callan has also offered to look out for me. He's introduced me to his friends, he's invited me to hang out with them. Apparently it's the least he can do as my brother who already has an established life on campus thanks to the football program.
I never asked for it, and I never take him up on his offers. Even if Cal asks about my day, or lets me finish off the dessert I claimed I didn't even want in the first place, it still doesn't feel genuine. I think the sincerity of our relationship is fractured too deeply for me to not question every move he makes. He is afterall, a younger version of my dad.
Callan idolizes our dad, even if he can't see it himself. So even if he believes a little fun would loosen me up, he still hasn't taken the time to ask why it's never been a yes. Out of everyone, my twin brother shouldn't be the one making me feel invisible and like my history doesn't matter.
Even if we have both begun to change as a result of new beginnings, some things remain the same. Callan, like so many others in my life, would prefer to move on like nothing every happened.
🏈🏈🏈
I snuck in behind a group of guys leaving the building as I was attempting to enter. I moved so quickly I'm not sure they even realized I had passed them. And now that I'm standing in front of Callan's door, I'm thankful to be so easily unseen.
We were supposed to meet here before Callan drove us across town to grab dinner at my favorite Thai place, but he either forgot, or is throwing a pre ginger salad party. The sound of several voices travels from behind his front door so clearly.
I don't bother knocking. I've been here enough in the last few weeks that I feel comfortable letting myself in. Right now though, it's strictly so I can slip inside unnoticed until I can strategize on what to do next.
I should just go home. I'm starving and tired of Callan pulling this type of shit. His living room looks the exact same way it has every time I've been here in the last few weeks, except tonight the faux leather couch is being pushed past its weight limit by at least twenty people. Another slew of people crowd around the makeshift beer pong table in the far left corner with the spectators spilling into and on the kitchen island.
