Love Songs & Other Lies(56)
“You’re right, though; you were just a kid, and so was I. It was naive to think it would be forever. I can take some of the blame too … for not realizing how ridiculous it was to think it could last.”
*
Cam is gone. Probably not for years this time, but I still feel the absence. Everyone is out or at rehearsal, and the entire bus is empty, quiet. Logan’s acoustic is lying on his bed, so I take it and sit in the lounge, my notebook beside me. I let my feelings seep onto the paper, and echo off the strings, and ring in my voice. The words I spoke this afternoon were angry, but the words that land on the page aren’t. I think that, maybe, I’m finally moving forward. I’m letting it go.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THEN
CAM
Vee is shouting through my closed bedroom door. “Your phone!”
“Who is it?”
She’s standing in my doorway. “Sienna.” There’s an unasked question in her voice. “Want me to answer?” Vee asks.
Translation: Want me to let her know you have a girlfriend? “No, just leave it.” I’m trying my best not to sound as panicked as I feel.
“She’s called a couple times this week.”
She’s been calling daily. I keep meaning to call or text her to make it stop, but if I’m awake, I’m with Vee. It seemed like it would be easier to just ignore her until it stopped, but it’s only gotten worse. “It’s my cousin.” I’m not sure why I say it. Why I don’t just leave it alone.
Vee gives me an apologetic smile. Shutting my bedroom door behind her, she makes her way across my living room. She’s pulling my St. John’s Prep sweatshirt over her head, examining the red stitching across the front as she smooths it down over her hips. It’s gigantic on her. The sleeves hang over her hands and she clenches the ends in her fists. It’s my favorite thing to wear, because she steals it so often that it smells like her. Flowery and sweet and comforting. Everything about Vee is comforting. She’d probably be completely grossed out if she knew I hadn’t washed it in months. I’m sitting in her usual spot on my couch. She tosses my phone onto my lap as she approaches.
I put my hands on her hips as she stands in front of me. “Don’t be mad.”
She sighs, and takes a step out of my grip, planting her hands on her hips. “Famous last words.” When she rolls her eyes I can’t help but laugh, because I know how her brain works. She’s already thinking worst-case scenario, and the way she gets worked up is so fucking cute.
“Come here.” I pull her wrists until she’s sitting across my lap. I reach into the drawer of the table next to my couch, where we’ve been sitting and watching movies for the last two hours. There are two envelopes inside, and I lay one on her lap, tucking the other under my leg.
Her eyes get comically large. “What is it?” She shakes it dramatically like it’s a gift box. She tries to hand it back to me, and I push it back into her hands. “It’s really for me?”
“Open it.”
“I hate surprises. You know this.”
“I do. Open it up, so you can be horribly surprised.” I kiss the top of her head. She flips the envelope over and sees the logo in the corner: NORTHWESTERN UNIVERSITY. Her hands go still, her body tensing against me. It’s addressed to her, but with my address, and her brows scrunch up when she looks at me in question. I don’t give her an answer; I just shake my head. “Just open it, please.”
I watch her face, holding my breath and hoping I played this right, as she tears open the envelope and pulls out the papers carefully and calmly, like they might combust at any moment. She reads it to herself, and I glimpse words over her shoulder.
Dear Miss Miller …
… Congratulations
… A wonderful addition to Northwestern
Welcome …
She’s motionless, holding the papers in her lap. “How did you—but I didn’t even—” Her face is scrunched up in confusion, a deep V wrinkling between her eyebrows. “Why?”
Because this is the school you should be going to.
Pulling the second envelope out from under my leg, I drop it onto her lap. I wait anxiously, as she pulls the papers out of the open envelope.
“Read it,” I say, and I kiss her temple, because I’m so nervous that I have to do something.
“Dear Mr. Fuller”—she sounds extremely formal, her voice huskier than usual—“it is with great pleasure that we welcome you to Northwestern University…” Her voice trails off and I’m not sure what to do, because I don’t understand her reaction, or her lack of one. She shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”
She turns in my lap, her knees pulled up to her chest, one foot to either side of my hips. I hate that her expression looks torn and not ecstatic.
“I thought we could go to Chicago,” I say. “Together.” I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “I promise to ride the trains with you, and make sure crazy taxis don’t run you down in the street, and to refill your Metro card so you don’t get kicked off the bus.”
“Cam, I don’t think—”
“Cort and your mom helped me get everything I needed for the application.” Thank God it didn’t require an essay. I’m rambling because I’m not sure I want to hear what she has to say, and I can’t stand the thought of silence.