Secret Lucidity(13)

Kyle is a fellow senior and is on the swim team as well. He’s loud and obnoxious, a guy who revels in his popularity. But he’s a damn good swimmer and will often come to the girls’ meets to cheer us on. He’s a good guy.

I give her a smile and nod my head.

“That’s it? Oh my God. Where’s your enthusiasm?”

“Cam!” a few girls squeal when they see me from afar.

Tucked under Kroy’s arm, I tense and press myself tightly against him when all attention turns to me.

“You okay?”

I remain quiet, and when the gap between me and the rest of them closes, I suddenly don’t know how to interact. Kroy removes his protective arm when Kyle holds out a can of beer for him. He pops the tab and throws his head back, chugging as I watch in disbelief.

A few guys cheer him on while a handful of girls giggle.

“Hey, Cam,” Taylor, another swimmer, greets when she steps in front of me.

“Hey.”

She looks over her shoulder at Kroy and says, “You should have seen him at the last party.” She turns back to me. “The guys were playing beer pong, and he got so wasted I had to drive him home.”

I stare at her with a snide look. Taylor and I have never gotten along. She’s got a female hard-on for attention and often lies to get it. Her provocations usually roll off my shoulders—everyone is aware of her snarkiness—but tonight isn’t the night to push my buttons.

“Wow, that’s a nasty scar,” she announces loudly, garnering the attention of a few others, and I shrink into myself without meaning to.

“Go bother someone else,” Linze barks when she steps to my side.

“No harm,” Taylor says before backing off. “See you in the pool on Monday.”

With eyes lingering on me, I take a couple steps back before turning and walking away.

“Cam! Wait!”

“This was a mistake,” I tell Kroy as I head to my car.

Grabbing my arm, he spins me around. “Taylor’s a bitch, everyone knows that.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood to deal with it.”

“She won’t bother you again. I’ll make sure of it.” I want to believe him, but I don’t. Not this time. “Just come back.” He throws his arm toward the party, but all I see is the beer can dangling from his fingertips.

“What are you doing?” I question with distaste on my words.

“What are you talking about?”

“Downing that beer like you have something to prove to those people.”

“Those people? They’re our friends, Cam.”

“Taylor said you got wasted at another party and she had to drive you home,” I accuse, upset that he would be so careless after what happened to my dad. “Is that true?”

“That girl is full of shit, you know it.”

“But is it true?”

“Yes, I got drunk. No, she didn’t drive me home. I got a ride with a buddy. Taylor was in the back seat because she had too much to drink as well. That’s all.”

My eyes fill with disbelief, which sparks a defensive reaction in him.

“What?”

“Why are you acting like this?” I question.

He shifts in his step and tosses the beer can into the grass before shoving his hands into his pockets. I wait for him to respond, and when he doesn’t, I give him my back and walk the remaining distance to my car.

“I miss you,” he calls out to me, and when I look back to him, he’s taking strides my way.

I lean against the side of my car when he steps up to me, braces his hands on either side of me, and drops his head. His breath smells like beer, and I force myself not to turn away. “My dad died because of a drunk.”

“I know.”

“So why—”

“Because I’m torn up inside, Cam.” When he raises his head, I look into his eyes and see a sadness I’m responsible for. “I feel like I’ve been trying to hang on to you for months, but you’re so far away.”

“Kroy . . .”

“Do you still love me?” Fear tangles around his question, but my response comes easily.

“Of course I love you.” I reach up and touch his face. I can’t remember the last time I touched him, or anyone, willingly.

“Then why won’t you let me love you?”

I look at the guy I grew up with. The one who watched me grow from a kindergartener, into the awkward middle schooler with braces, and then into the senior who’s bordering on becoming a young woman. And in turn, I’ve seen him through all the same stages to the young man standing in front of me. I can feel his heart breaking, and I know I can’t continue hurting him with my distance.

“Baby, please. Just talk to me.”

“I feel unlovable.” My voice cracks. “I’m too far beyond lost, and I don’t know how to find my way back. I’m starting to wonder if there even is a way back.”

“I know you’re hurting. But I have to be honest. I feel like you’d rather drown than pull yourself through this.”

Drowning is almost effortless. There’s nothing to it. You simply allow the weight of the water to do all the work as you sink deeper and deeper.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not ready to move on.” Because moving on would mean leaving my father behind. “The last thing I want to do is drag you down with me.”