Denial

Chapter 8

Cam's POV

I've always had a particular appreciation of sleeping. I think one of the symptoms, or I guess really aspects of being depressed is that we just love to sleep. Sleeping is nice because it's a temporary relief from all of the shit constantly going on in my life, and sometimes there's dogs riding pogo sticks involved (my dreams are pretty dang weird). Last night's dream was one of the best I had ever had, though. And the only reason was because Nash Grier appeared.

I don't even remember what happened, or what we did, but when I woke up this morning all I saw was Nash. And I mean when you dream about a guy, that pretty much means you're screwed, right? All I could see was his smile and his eyes and his hair. And I can tell that he wants to know more about me, but I just can't tell him. Not yet, anyways. I've only known this guy for what, a day? I can't profoundly bitch to him about my problems just yet, not until I know he cares enough to listen. 

It's only after I'm done thinking that I remember Nash is picking me up for school today. Shit. 

I leapt out of bed and put on my cleanest looking pair of jeans with a pair of grey Vans and a black tshirt with rolled sleeves, and hurried over to my mirror to mess with my hair until it didn't looked so dissheveled. I brushed my teeth and finished getting ready before shoving all of my loose papers into my backpack and leaping out the door whenever I saw Nash's familiar car pull up in my driveway. I hope to God my dad didn't notice my car was gone. "Bye, dad!" I shouted before even being able to make eye contact with him. 

When I walked outside, I could hear Nash blasting "Coming of Age" by Foster the People from his car speakers. "CAN YOU TURN IT DOWN? MY HEARING AID IS GOING TO BURST," I said, hopping into the front seat of his car. Nash suddenly got a very worried look on his face and shot his hand to the volume knob to turn it down. "Dude, sorry, I didn't know you had hearing aids-" he said, being cut off by me laughing. "I was kidding, bro. So you liked the band?" I said, indicating towards the radio. Nash turned the song back to a normal volume. "Yeah, I decided to look them up last night after I saw that poster in your room, they're amazing! I thought their only song was that Pumped Up Kicks thing but they have so much more better stuff!" Nash said, his eyes alive as he spoke. I couldn't help but smile at him. "They're so good, right? I'm glad to know that I can help out the white boys of this world by showing them some good stuff," I said with a smirk. "Hey, I am not that much of a typical white boy! I don't even like Macklemore! I don't even own a pair of those dumb bro socks that guys wear to like, their mid calves. I DON'T EVEN LIKE MACKLEMORE," Nash proceeded to say, laughing harder as the sentence moved on. "Whatever, I totally saw that picture that you posted from the Macklemore concert in November, you aren't fooling anyone!" I said, laughing. But as I remembered that post, I remembered a very distressing thought. Nash had gone to that concert with his girlfriend of two years, Hannah.

What the hell was I thinking, sititng here in this car with this boy I barely know smiling as he talks about something as mundane as music and inviting him to watch movies that nobody really cares about thinking that he will want to save me from my mess? What was I thinking, wondering if this popular boy would ever love some washed up mess like me who writes in a journal at night and smokes cigarettes and listens to music no one has even heard of? Nash has a girlfriend. Nash has a girlfriend. I had gotten so mixed up in the happiness I thought I had found for myself that I had forgotten to take a good look at reality. Nash and Hannah were the it couple of the school, last year when he asked her to Prom, someone filmed it and put it on YouTube, and it got thousands and thousands of views. He held her hand inbetween classes and took her to park benches and did all of the things a boyfriend could do. Nash would never consider someone like me as more than a friend, and for the love of God, I should have known that. If he knew the way I felt about him, he'd probably want nothing to do with me ever again. From that moment on, I told myself that in order to keep myself sane and keep him as close to me as possible without scaring him away, he would be nothing but my friend. I can't think of him as anything but a friend, or else it will ruin me. 

"Hey, man, are you ok? You got kind of quiet all of the sudden," Nash said when we hit a red light. I had to snap myself out of this. He can't know my feelings, he can't know what I think about him, he can't know anything. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired," I said with a meek smile. "It's ok, having you shut up for five minutes was actually kind of nice," Nash said, breaking out in a laugh. "Oh, and you don't think I wouldn't KILL A LIVING HUMAN to get you to stop talking every once in awhile?" I said, cackling. "WhatEVER. I'm hilarious," Nash said. We both cried laughing until we pulled up to the school for first period. "Alright, man. Time to get to class," Nash said, climbing out of the car. "See you later, dude." I said, and proceeded to wave as we walked to opposite sides of the building for class. 

The whole day was me repeating this to myself non-stop: Don't think about him. Don't think about him. Don't fucking think about him. I had to only consider him a friend. I had to forget his laugh and how he loves the same songs I do and how he wanted to watch a movie with me and how he actually likes to read and I have to forget his smile and his eyes and how much I want to know him. I had to forget that.

Forgetting that is pretty freaking hard when all of the sudden my phone lit up with an unknown number that said "Hey man, it's Nash. Kinley gave me your number during algebra today, how would you feel about going to the arts festival downtown tonight?"