Secret Lucidity(82)
Never has my heart pumped so much in my lifetime as it did when I was with David. God, he made it race fiercely, and I wonder if I’ll ever feel that rush again. Or if that was my moment, my once in a lifetime moment to experience that kind of love. A love so intense, I’d often find my hand over my heart for fear it might explode.
That’s how powerful we were when we were together, but he was powerful all on his own. He had been from the very start. From that very first kiss down there on the pool deck, his lips took my soul and swallowed it whole, and that’s not something I’ll ever come back from. And I don’t want to, because I can’t bear the thought of my soul no longer being attached to his.
I WOKE WITH THE SMELL of David on my skin. Too scared to open my eyes to reality, I remained in bed with his sweatshirt cloaking me in illusory comfort for hours. I haven’t taken it off since I left the pool last night. I haven’t left my room either. What’s the point? It isn’t like I have anything to do or anyone to see.
Most of the day was spent reading. David once shared with me that his favorite book was Cosmopolis by Don DeLinno. When I asked what it was about, he told me, “Movements and counter-movements of contemporary culture.”
“Sounds thrilling.” My remark was drenched in sarcasm.
“When you dig through the layers of the writing, and trust me when I say there are many ideas explored, it’s basically just a story about a guy who wants a haircut.”
I remember laughing when he was trying to explain the book to me, but he assured it was a great read once you got the hang of the author’s writing. Since downloading the book to my e-reader earlier today, I’ve been consumed with it, dissecting what’s being said and finding how much of the two of us are within the themes of the story. The writing is fascinating and so far beyond brilliant that I curse myself for not reading it the minute he told me it was his favorite. But I’m reading it now, more than anything, to feel connected to David, to experience something that was able to resonate in him, so much so, that he read it countless times.
A pounding startles me, and I jump off the bed and rush out to the hallway. The loud knocking on the front door continues, and when I head down the stairs, I hear Kroy’s voice from outside.
“I know you’re home, Cam. Open up.”
When I do, I bark, “Why are you banging on the door like that?”
He pushes his way inside, ignoring my question and asking his own. “Is it true?”
“Not now.” I push the words out on an exhausted breath. After yesterday’s fight with Taylor, I’m drained. But he’s already in my house, and with the distraught look on his face, I doubt I’ll be able to get him to leave.
Unable to stand still, he paces around the foyer. “I’ve been hearing the rumors at school but never once thought to question you because they were so insane. So far from the person you are, but then Linze called me just a while ago and told me what happened yesterday. She told me that you got into a fight with Taylor, and that you hit her, and it made me realize that I don’t know you at all. Because the Cam I know would never do something like that.” He then steps toward me and slows down his talking. “I can’t even think straight right now when I think about you . . . with him.”
“It’s not true, Kroy.”
“It’s not true? That’s all you have to say to defend yourself against this? You’re not even willing to lie better to cover it up?”
“I’m not lying. It’s a sick rumor Taylor made up out of jealousy,” I tell him, but I know he isn’t buying it.
“Just like she made up the lie about you cutting?” he antagonizes, and the moment I open my mouth to defend myself, he shuts me down and speaks over me, saying, “Linze saw the cuts, Cam. When Kyle was holding you back from Taylor yesterday, your shirt had gotten pulled up, and she saw everything.”
A rush of cold spirals around my skin when he says this, silencing me as I stand in front of him.
“You swore to me that it wasn’t true. You begged me to believe in you and not Taylor,” he reminds. “I’m just wondering if you’re going to do the same thing right now—beg me to believe that you and Mr. Andrews weren’t involved with each other.”
“Kroy, please—”
“How did this even happen to you?”
“It didn’t.”
He rakes his hands through his hair as he walks over to the stairs and sits down. When I join him at his side, his back slumps over and his head dips forward.
“Tell me how this happened to you, Cam. How you’ve become this person,” he says, no more an indulger of my lies, but I can’t give him the truth. When he looks deep into my eyes, a mutual understanding as to why takes root. I can deny his words all I want, but he’s far past the possibility of believing me anymore. All I can do is listen as he speaks. “The fact that you won’t admit it . . . that you’re lying to protect him . . .”
It hurts me to see how much he’s struggling to get his thoughts out.
“God, Cam. Why do you want to protect this guy when he took advantage of you?”
“He—”
“No,” he interrupts. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t, because the fact is he was your teacher. He was mine too. I mean, how old is he anyway?” He shakes his head, sickened by the thought, before looking back at me. “Was he the reason why you broke up with me?”