Twelve Years Ago

TWELVE YEARS AGO

Winter break was a blink away at San José State, anticipation permeating every corner of the university. Cam sat on her dorm bed, pecking at the last paper she needed to turn in before she could bounce and head to her parents' place in Clovis.

Avery lounged beside her beneath the window, having finished everything she needed to get done for break a couple of days ago. Typical. She had a penchant for focus and making straight freakin' As look effortless. Avery could have gone back home to Clear Lake, but stayed until the end of the week—for what reason, Cam didn't know. She'd been spending a bunch of time in Cam's room, today busying herself with a girlie whipped frapp-a-something from the campus coffee shop.

Avery had mastered focus as well as she'd mastered destroying Cam's, digging out whipped cream with the end of her red straw and licking it clean. Her holiday sparkle-painted toes reflexively curled every single time before she dredged more from her cup. Cam had to have died and gone to hell. This was torture.

She scowled at her paper as though it would help her magically create a topic sentence for her next paragraph on why climate change was destroying porpoise communities. God, Bio 20 sucked .

"What's your take on games?" Avery asked out of the blue.

Cam blinked and lifted her eyes, her brain scrambling to place the question within the context of the last twenty minutes. The only things she could think of were whipped cream and licking .

Avery's lips twitched, her chestnut eyes gleaming coyly, like Cam's thoughts were written all over her face. Cam willed her body not to flush.

"Video games," Avery clarified.

Oh .

Playing it cool, Cam glanced down at her laptop and shrugged. "Distractions for boys who hate touching grass."

Avery barked a laugh, then tossed her mane of sun kissed hair over her shoulder. "Okay, sure." She sounded mildly irritated, but Cam kept her eyes on her screen. "Aren't you being a little sexist?" Not waiting for a retort, Avery plowed on, "You don't think they're just as valid of stories as books? Fantasy or sci-fi or?—"

"I don't read fiction," Cam said.

"Oh, sorry. How silly of me. I guess I didn't realize I was trying to hold a conversation with a joyless potato sack."

Cam repressed a smile. It was fun getting Avery worked up about something so meaningless. Too much fun. "You also didn't realize I am trying to finish a paper. Clearly."

Avery scoffed. "Climate change affects porpoises because it kills off their food supply. They don't die of starvation right away. They use their blubber for energy and eventually die of hypothermia. There you go. Write it down."

Cam leaned back against the wall and watched Avery with a smirk. Avery stared right back, unblinking and adorably invoking a challenge. Cam gave in. "I like reading about adventure, just real ones. Like Krakauer or Jamie Zeppa."

A spark of interest ignited in Avery's eyes. "You hike?"

The door burst open, and Brittani waltzed in. Avery's roommate, Lyndsey, followed, carrying a box labeled Bitch Crap .

Brittani clapped her hands. "Both of you listen up, we got a change on our hands. Ben Shavers has a class next semester at eight a.m., and he'll be walking through the campus village every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Lyndsey's trying to hook up with the guy." She twirled her fingers. "So we're going to do a little room switcheroo."

"So you can watch him?" Cam asked slowly. "Cross the CV?" Was this some straight girl shit that she didn't understand?

Lyndsey scrunched her nose. "Umm… yes?" she said in Cam's intonation, making fun of her.

"Does this mean Cam and I are rooming together?" Avery asked, before her tongue darted out to lick the end of her straw.

Lightning bolts of euphoria and unbridled terror struck Cam at once, and Avery grinned slyly. She smiled only because she tolerated Cam more than Lyndsey. Yeah, that was it. That had to be it. Nothing more, right? Unless sitting here for the past half hour as she made out with a straw was how Avery flirted. No . Cam was misreading her?—

Brittani scoffed. "Ugh, no. You think Lyndsey and I can room together? We'd murder each other."

"True," Lyndsey sang, dropping her box of bitch crap onto Brittani's bed.

With a frown, Avery gave a delicate shrug. Her eyes lingered on Cam, like she was waiting for her to say something. Argue. Demand that Brittani and Lyndsey room together if they really wanted to disrupt everyone's living situation.

And Cam wanted to. But her fear of rejection won out.

"Whatever, just don't touch my stuff." Cam turned her attention to her paper, shielding herself from Avery's disappointment.