27. Cam

Iknocked on Mark's door, opening it when I heard a grunted reply. Mark glanced up from where he lay on his bed, finger flicking over his phone screen. "Chili ready?"

"Oh. No, but almost. Sorry to interrupt." Shit. I was having second thoughts, but fuck, I really needed to unload.

"Just studying, no biggie." He gave me a smile. "I'll come downstairs in a sec, though."

"Ummm, actually." I shut the door behind me. "Remember that offer you made me a while back, that I could talk to you anytime I needed to?"

Mark's brows knit in concern, and he set his phone down, rolling upright in the bed. "Abso-fucking-lutely, dude. What's up?"

"I'm not thinking of using or anything," I said up front, just to get that out of the way, and did a double take when Mark chuckled softly in response.

"Stop." He shook his head. "I told you already, it's not the first place my mind goes to anymore."

"It isn't?"

"Nope. For real." He ticked his chin toward the space next to him on the bed. "Pull up a pillow if you want." I dropped onto the bed next to him, lacing my fingers over my stomach. Mark rolled toward me, propping his head on one fist. "It's your actions—why my mind doesn't go to pills first, anymore, I mean."

"Oh, that's good, I guess."

He nodded. "Something I learned with me and Chet. Words matter, but actions speak pretty fucking loud, too. I was hesitant for you to move in, you know that, but…" He licked his lips thoughtfully. "I'm not anymore. I'm glad. Glad because I can see you meant everything you said. Glad because I get to see you climb out of the hole you were in. And," he said softer, "maybe be a small part of that."

His words wrapped around the seed of hope in my chest I'd planted when I'd returned to campus, never expecting it to amount to anything. I let out a quavery breath. "That means a lot more than you think it does."

His gaze was gentle when I glanced over. "No, I think I know. So are you gonna tell me who you're fucking that's got you all discombobulated? Is it that guy you said rejected you a while back?" My mouth dropped open, and Mark scoffed. "Dude, I've been hypervigilant since fucking birth. I know the signs when someone's all twisted up over something. Let's hear it. I might give shit advice, but I'm an open ear for venting."

I rolled onto my side, too, mirroring his posture. We'd done this back when I'd lived in the frat house, except from single beds. It'd been before I'd gotten big into pills and was one of the things I'd missed the most about our friendship. "I'm in—was in—a friends-with-benefits situation with an older guy. Not a student or anything."

Mark's eyes narrowed. "How much older?"

"Like thirteen years? He's divorced, no kids or anything."

Mark's brow smoothed out and then wrinkled again. "Out of the closet?"

"He's bi, not hiding his sexuality."

"Good." Mark nodded in approval.

"He's a professor here. So we're both in a different kind of closet." I figured I might as well lay it out there. In spite of everything, I still trusted Mark completely, and fuck, simply saying the words aloud to someone else filled me with a sense of relief.

"What?" Mark's eyes went wide, and I shushed him quickly. God knew a whiff of scandal might alert Jesse.

"We didn't know at first." I explained the whole crazy scenario from the start, and by the end, Mark was sitting fully upright, cross-legged on the bed, frowning as he digested.

"Shit, that sounds like a disaster waiting to happen."

"It already happened," I said glumly.

I waited for more and, when nothing came, peered over at him. "You're not gonna chastise me or something? Tell me how stupid I am to have gotten into that situation in the first place."

"I mean, duh, but that'd kinda make me a hypocrite, considering everything that went down with me and Chet and my dad." He shrugged. "I know what it feels like to be caught between a rock and hard place." He looked me over carefully. "You're in deep, huh? Like, caught feelings?"

"We're just blowing off steam."

Mark arched a brow. "You sure about that?"

"No," I admitted. "I mean, I was sure about it at first, but yeah, I fucking like him as a person. I like being around him, love being around him, and I'm trying really fucking hard to compartmentalize that."

Mark let out a quiet snort. "And is he doing the same? Compartmentalizing?"

"That's what we agreed to." I fiddled with the sheets, twisting them around my finger. "But no. It's not like that anymore. I think he feels the same as I do, but it's like if we tell each other, it'll make it worse. Because none of that changes the fact that he's a professor with a book coming out and a book tour, and I'm just some dumb undergrad."

"Man, you are screwed." There was no mockery in Mark's tone, though. Instead, I heard an echo of sympathy there, a mirror to the turmoil twisting around my guts. His voice gentled when he spoke next. "And don't say you're some dumb undergrad. You know better than that. You've been working your ass off. Don't discount any of that. I think you should tell him how you feel."

"What for?"

"Because it's the truth, and maybe that matters, even if you can't do anything about it. Maybe sometimes that's when the truth matters the most."

I inhaled a shaky breath and nodded. "Yeah, maybe. That's part of what gets to me about this whole thing, having to be a secret, having to lie. I said I'd never do that again, get myself into a situation where I have to, and look where I am."

Mark propped up on one elbow, forehead scrunching. "And what, you think that's a road back to relapse or something?"

"It could be, sure. But it's more that…it's like I'm living two lives again, and it's getting harder to keep one from merging with the other without causing a lot of damage."

"Damn," he said simply, and it was such a Mark response that it almost made me laugh. "Can't you two, like, lay low for a while, get through the summer so you can graduate, and then get together again?"

"That's not going to solve everything, and I have no idea if he'd even want that." I pointed out, though it did offer a kind of solution.

"So talk to him about it, numbskull." He thumped my arm sharply. "You wanna know what I think?"

I gave him a wan smile. "You're gonna tell me anyway, but yeah."

"I'm no philosopher or anything, but this whole thing about lying and secrecy? I kinda wonder if you've made some sort of superstition or talisman or something out of it."

I frowned. "How do you mean?"

"I mean, it's a noble cause and shit, right? But sometimes you can lie or be secretive for noble reasons, too. It's not automatically evil or harmful to someone else. Shit, all this stuff we've talked about? It's not anyone's goddamn business, really. If you never told me any of this, and a year from now, I saw you walking down the street with your guy, and you told me you'd been seeing each other in secret for months because you were his student when you got together, I'd totally fucking understand. Chet and I did it, and we'd planned on doing it for longer, except we have no chill. And the stakes were different."

"It can be harmful to yourself."

Mark gave me a pointed look. "Lying to yourself, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Like you're doing right now, trying to play it cool when you're head over heels for this dude?"

Goddammit. I groaned, and Mark laughed.

"Look, Cam, like I said, I'm not the smartest man on the face of this earth, but I do believe someone can be true to themselves and to others"—he gave me another pointed look—"without having to confess all your inner workings or private life. That's not secrecy. There's a difference between being a filthy liar and playing it close to the vest because not everyone deserves or needs to know the intimate details of your life until you're ready for them to."

I let Mark's words sink in, simmering in my mind as I lay there staring at the popcorn ceiling. Was he right? Was I too caught up in my own self-imposed rules and principles to see the bigger picture? Maybe he was right. Maybe it wasn't the secrecy that was the issue. I'd been lying to myself, but it wasn't the kind of lie I feared; it wasn't a relapse waiting to happen or some dark secret that would tear me apart. On the contrary, thoughts of Grady filled me with lightness. It was actually an admission of truth. I was head over heels for Grady Lusk.

"What if he doesn't feel the same?" My heart sank at the thought.

"Then you deal with it. You move on like you've moved on before. But at least you both know where you stand."

That hit home. I'd been so caught up in my own turmoil I'd almost forgotten that Grady had a lot on his plate, too, emotionally speaking, that he might be struggling with the same fears and uncertainty. Or that he might not share the depth of feelings I had. After all, he was navigating the same treacherous waters and arguably had more to lose. It was true if he didn't feel the same for me as I felt for him, I'd have to move on. And it would hurt. But at least it wouldn't be a secret burden I'd have to carry alone.

"Ahhh, fuck…" I sighed heavily, closing my eyes as reality washed over me in cold waves. My heart sat heavy in my chest, but there was also a sense of relief, like a knot unraveling.

Mark's laughter echoed through the room, soft and infectious. "Yeah, buddy, relationships are a real bitch sometimes."

"Especially when you didn't even mean to get into one in the first place."

"Tell me about it."

Silence stretched between us for a few beats. Downstairs, I heard the TV come on, the murmur of voices. All of it was comforting. Mark next to me, the din of the house, being surrounded by people who'd let me back in after I'd hurt them, gave me a chance to redeem myself. Graduation was weeks away, and in the midst of my heartache with Grady, nostalgia tinged with sadness filled me, knowing that they'd all be moving on soon, too. Even though we had the house until the end of August, it felt like the energy had already shifted, like a change of seasons. I could feel it all coming to a close.

"I'm gonna miss this," I whispered and swiped at the warmth trekking down my cheeks.

"Me too." Mark's cool fingers found mine on the bed and threaded through them. "C'mere."

I scooted closer to him, and we shifted around until he was spooning me. "Since when did you become a cuddler?"

"Dunno." I felt Mark's shoulder hitch against my back. "Somewhere between living with Sam and getting together with Chet. It's nice, yeah?"

"Yeah." He smelled good, familiar, and a memory flashed behind my eyelids of the first time I'd met him, his welcoming grin, and then the frat house the day we'd moved in, how he'd flung himself on one of the tiny twin beds and told me to take whichever one I wanted, all the parties he'd invited me to freshman year, infinitely cooler than I was, all the times he'd picked me up when I needed him to, the bottles of water he'd leave beside my bed, the dim memory of waking up in a hospital room, the pressure of his touch on me then and now. My heart threatened to burst from my chest, and I was glad he was behind me and couldn't see the tears ready to flow down my cheeks again.

"You're a really fucking good friend, you know?" I whispered. "And I'm so fucking sorry I hurt you."

"I'm sorry I hurt you, too." He nuzzled my shoulder. "Just remember. No matter what happens, you've got us."

"I know. You've got me, too."

We lay there a while longer. One or both of us might have fallen asleep until the door flung open and Sam filled the frame.

"Dinner's ready. Ohhh, a cuddle party? Can I join?"

"You're too big," Mark protested. It was a futile effort. Sam threw himself across our legs. Jesse wasn't far behind, nosy as ever.

"What's going on in here?"

"Mark and Cam and I are cuddling."

"Bunch of sluts," he said and then flopped down in front of me. "Is someone sad? Having drama? Why are we cuddling?"

"We're getting close to graduation," Mark said, and it was as good an explanation as any. "No more house, no more dinners, no more…" He gestured around us.

"Shit. It's been so crazy lately I haven't even thought about that. You're right. Ugh. Depressing. I should've made a cheesecake ‘cause now I'm gonna need to eat these feelings."

Sam ruffled Jesse's hair, and we all looked up as Ansel appeared in the doorway.

"Fucking knew I'd catch all of you heathens in an orgy someday."

Mark threw a pillow at him as Jesse extended a hand. "Come join the heathen pile, you weirdo."

Ansel grinned and then sprinted toward us.

The collision was both painful and absolutely worth it.

After dinner,I texted Grady.

Cam:I'm sorry it's late, but I really need to see you. Can I come over?

Grady:I was thinking the same thing.

Cam:Is now okay?

Grady:Yes.