Bloodcurse

Sweet Love

The weekend comes around sooner than I thought, and I'm sitting on my bed cross-legged as I stare at the three missed calls from Caden on my phone.

It's been a few days since Charlie kissed me, and I haven't been able to get it out of my head. I haven't seen her since, and I get the distinct feeling that it's not a coincidence.

Even though I'm trying not to 'make a big deal out of it', it's been impossible not to. I have no idea how to even process what happened in my own head, much less explain it to someone else. I've just been going in circles in my mind, and it's slowly driving me nuts. I know I can't dodge Caden forever, but right now I'm just not ready to tell him. It would probably crush him, and that makes me feel like the most terrible person on the planet.

Freddie has been pretending his fight with Max didn't happen. He's clearly struggling, constantly spaced out and looking more tired by the day, but I'm also painfully aware that telling him to confront this is none of my business. Max, on the other hand, has stopped talking altogether. I haven't got a word out of him in days, and even when he's making me get up for class, he does it silently. He's retreated back into his shell at the speed of light.

When did everything get so complicated? I toss my phone onto the bed and reluctantly get up. I'm not in the mood to do anything, even though my to-do list is overflowing, and in the end I decide to see if Freddie is in his room.

Knocking quietly, I wait outside the door until it's opened by Freddie's roommate, Harry.

"He's not here," he says in lieu of 'hello', and I simply nod.

"Do you know where he went?"

Harry shrugs irritatedly. "How should I know?"

He slams the door shut, and I pull an undignified grimace at the space where his face just was. I already know Harry's an asshole, but he still never ceases to amaze me. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I dial Freddie's number, and the call connects after a few seconds.

"Hey, Kam! What's up?"

Shaking my head at the nickname with a smile, I start walking towards my room again. "Nothing much, I was just looking for you."

"Oh, really? I only left, like, three seconds ago. Where are you?"

I look around. "Uh, ten feet away from your room?"

"Don't move, I'll come find you!"

He hangs up, and I chuckle as I see him turn the corner with a corny smile.

"Good morning," he says, lifting an imaginary top-hat with a curtsy.

"You're so weird," I reply amusedly, draping my arm around his shoulders casually as we walk down the corridor together. It's a comfortable fit since he's a bit shorter than me. "Where are we going, Freds?"

"You'll love this," he answers excitedly, twisting his head to look at me with a smile. "I got the key to the arts room! It only took nearly four years of convincing Misses O'Reilly I won't set fire to her classroom, and voilà!"

I return his smile. "You're more persuasive than I thought."

"This is my dream, Kamil! I mean, okay, no, my dream is to be a world-famous contemporary artist, but... this is also high up on the list."

"So, what's your plan?"

"I'm working on my admission portfolio for art school."

"Oh, wow, that's amazing. What have you got so far?"

"Well, right now I'm working on a piece about immigration."

I look at him with raised brows. "That's very political."