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Chapter Five

Austen

When the lights go out in the hallway, I look up from my computer at the digital clock on the wall which blinks ten forty-five .

Shit, I must have been in the zone to lose track of time that badly. Usually I’m better at watching the time, if only because the school cafeteria closes at nine, and I try to get my use of the top-tier meal package my parents paid for, though I insisted I didn’t need one.

I’m perfectly capable of cooking food for myself. After all, I make a mean French onion ramen.

But my parents refused to let “their pride and joy settle for anything less than the best.”

With midterms coming up, we’ve all been pulling long lab hours. I arrived here after my English class at three.

Seven fucking hours. Almost eight.

I’ve been staring at this screen for way too long and I feel like I’ve gotten nowhere near the design for the avatar I want.

I grumble, figuring it’s best to save my progress and tackle this project in the morning. With the game tomorrow night, I won’t have much time after, being as the boys and I will have to make our appearance at Phi Kappa Delta to celebrate our win.

I know it’s preemptive to think we’ll win, but when it comes to the game, I won’t tolerate anything less.

If you want to be a winner, you have to see yourself as one. At least that’s what my coach told me when I was younger, and it stuck with me.

I take one last look at my avatar. There’s nothing wrong with him, really. We were all given the same base to build off of, but I’ve never been very good at the computer generated stuff.

I can draw or sketch anything, but my lack of artistic talent is why I chose game and programming development and not design.

The numbers and figures, the code… it’s simple when you get down to it. A few strokes here, a few strokes there, and the actions carry out the same each time.

There’s no room for error, much like there isn’t room for error on the field. But my degree doesn’t mean anything to anyone but me.

After the wedding, once I graduate, I’ll start working at my dad’s firm. It’s glorified IT work, since my dad can barely attach a document to an email, but it’s easy work and easy money while Savannah and I get settled into our house—my parents’ wedding gift to us. My realtor mother wouldn’t have it any other way.

It’ll also give me time to build up my funds and work on my true passion. My game. The one I’ve been working on since high school.

Then once I have my shit together, I’ll open my own startup. Hire my own designers—Cam being first on the list. Of course, I’ve never told him as much, just in case his artistic desires don’t include designing mages and healers. Still, when I think of the future, I see him with me, whether he’s designing stuff or just being there.

I shut down the computer, grab my backpack to make sure I’m logged out completely. There’s no one left in the building except me and the janitor, who gives me an annoyed look.

Probably because my late night means he has to stay longer, even though I have a keycard to use for the lab at any time.

“Sorry,” I say as I head through the door. The campus is quiet, but most of the fun happens off campus. I’m sure the bars are packed, even for a Thursday night.

I set off towards the lit path, looking up at the art studio where Cam does his modeling and classes.

Honestly, I don’t know how he does it. Plenty of people have seen me naked, sure. Savannah, my teammates.

But the thought of someone studying my naked form for hours…

That’s nightmare inducing.

I notice the light is on, and it looks like there’s activity inside. I stop in my tracks as I see Cam walking by the window. He passes quickly, and I know he doesn’t see me. I clutch my bookbag, wondering if I should head up there and see if he wants to grab something to eat. Or maybe just walk back to his place.

He’s been quiet all week, despite my texts. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s seeing someone, because Cam isn’t one to ignore me unless he’s into a guy. It doesn’t happen often, and his interest is fleeting. Most of the guys Cam is “interested” in don’t stay around long.

Which I’m fine with. I’m used to it.

The guys come and go, but Cam and I… we’re forever. Nothing can break us or this friendship. Especially a flash in the pan dick.

Cam is the type to put off his work until the last minute, too, which is probably why he’s working late. I should let him do his thing. But as I move to keep walking, I notice another body passes the window—he’s not alone.

I change my direction, heading for the studio. I knock on the door, calling out his name.

I hear voices, but I can’t make out what they are saying, but they sound angry.

Like an argument.

Two more knocks, and this time I speak louder. More direct.

“Hey, Cam? It’s Austen,” I say.

The hurried voices are loud as the door opens without warning, nearly knocking me over in the process. The man leaves, huffing angrily, hoisting his large portfolio over his shoulder.

I look inside, noting Cam’s back is turned to me, bare-assed.

My stomach twists into knots as I look between Cam and the man running off into the dark, worried I’d interrupted something serious.

Well, not that serious, if this guy is anything like the others.

A strange sort of pride swells within me. Good riddance. He doesn’t deserve him, anyway.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Cam asks, his voice apathetic. I slip through the door, and it shuts behind me with a loud thud.

I survey the room, noting all the easels and drawing pads set up. Most of them have figures in various states of sketch, some showing body parts or partial forms, but there is one that hangs off to the side, completely empty.

I’ve been in the studio before, enough times to know the spot is Cam’s.

But why is his pad empty? Artist block, maybe?

“I was working late at the lab,” I say as I saunter around and take in the artwork displayed. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cam slipping his boxer briefs up his ass, the motion making his cheeks jiggle the slightest.

Oddly enough, it reminds me of the porn I watched earlier in the week after I came home from the strip club.

My cock twitches at the thought of such things. That was a night. I woke up the next day feeling like a million bucks, despite being nearly stuck to a crusty puddle of my own making.

I nonchalantly adjust myself, pushing thoughts of porn out of my mind as Cam continues to dress himself.

His demeanor is all off. His shoulders are tense, his jaw set.

“You okay? Was that guy—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he bites, letting out a sigh. I drop my bookbag, my instincts kicking in.

I’ve seen this a hundred times with Cam. He likes to put on a good front, make everyone think he doesn’t give a shit. But he does.

He always gives a shit, he just never wants anyone to know. God forbid someone get the wrong idea and discover he has feelings.

“Of course it matters,” I say as I approach him. He’s standing in the center of the room, and I can see the whole set up. The Victorian couch with all the tattered drapes and the varied props spread out among the stage. A vase of fake flowers, some wax fruit that’s seen better days, judging by how the paint is chipped on half of them.

Cam stands there, his back to me, hands on his hips, letting out a heavy breath. The light shines down on his skin, casting an incandescent tan on him. His shoulders knit together, his neck stretched as he rubs it the way he always does when he’s anxious.

Whoever that guy was, he was an asshole.

Anyone that hurts my boy is a fucking asshole.

“Do you want me to beat him up?” I ask seriously. I know Cam can take care of himself if he needed to, because he was always getting into fights when we were younger, but there’s still a part of me that feels protective of him, nonetheless.

I don’t care if he’s a man, he’s my best friend. I’d fight the devil for him if he asked—and even if he didn’t.

Cam lets out a laugh, shaking his head as he runs a hand through his dark hair.

He turns around, his steely grey eyes glistening, and I hate to see him upset.

“Are you trying to defend my honor or some shit?” he teases back, his tone tired, but slightly humorous. “Because if so, I hate to tell you my honor disappeared a long time ago.”

I shake my head.

“Any man who makes you think you’re less than honorable, is a dick.”

Cam nods. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. So, what has you here so late?”

I shrug. “Working on a game. We’ve all been given these avatars to build, and mine’s just… not—he sucks.”

Cam laughs as he takes a seat on the couch. He still hasn’t put his shirt on and he’s barefoot, and suddenly I can see exactly why they hired him.

He might not be as chiseled as me or my teammates, but there’s an understated sort of sensuality to him, sitting here like this.

Relaxed, intimate almost.

“I doubt that. You’re probably just over-analyzing,” he says. “Trying to make it perfect.”

“Probably,” I agree as I pick up a heavy graphite pencil and begin to sketch. Cam’s gaze meets mine, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Some things are just naturally perfect, and others…”

I sketch his shoulders, his arms. It’s not as good as the pieces that surround me, but it doesn’t have to be. I’m not aiming for a piece of art , I’m just aiming to make my friend feel better.

And no doubt when he sees my trash drawing, he’ll laugh his ass off.

Cam leans back, bracing his hands on the cushion. The motion opens his chest up, the light casting shadows on his face. He props one leg out, which I sketch.

“So, question…”

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice lighter.

There’s the Cam I know.

“If everyone draws you… who do you draw?”

Cam’s eyes darken and his smile disappears. He looks to the door, then back at me.

“I already took my drawing classes, Austen, you know this.” He offers me a half-smile.

“So what you’re saying is you’re rusty?” He huffs out a laugh, rolling his eyes. “Well, when I’m done, you can draw me. Then we’re going to order some food, blast some My Chem, and you’re going to forget that asshole ever happened.”

I watch Cam’s eyes glisten as he takes his bottom lip in his mouth. I do my best to capture the expression as I put my finishing touches on my sketch.

“Sound good?” I ask.

He nods.

“Yeah.” His voice cracks a little and I give him a soft smile. I call up Jammin’ Joe’s; the only pizza place open till midnight on a weekday.

It doesn’t take me long to put in an order for a large pepperoni and olive pizza with non-dairy cheese and pineapple. His favorite.

I’ll just pick off all my pineapple and give it to him, since fruit on pizza is disgusting.

That way he gets double.

“Good. Now, don’t be surprised if this ends up in the Met,” I tease as I turn the easel around.

Cam lets out a deep laugh, putting his hand over his mouth.

I beam with pride, showing off my drawing of Cam dressed as a superhero. Cape and all.

“That is…”

“A masterpiece. I know,” I say cockily, adding my signature to the bottom.

Cam shakes his head. “You can draw that, but you can’t design an avatar?”

My smile fades. “Well, yeah. This,” I motion to my comic-like image, “isn’t realistic. It’s a comic.”

Cam’s eyebrows furrow as he chews his lip.

“It’s still good.”

I shake my head. “It’s not the same. The lines are exaggerated. I can’t draw this again. It’ll be different, not the same.”

Cam twists his lips. “Try again,” he says, his gaze holding mine.

“What?”

Cam situates himself on the couch, laying back on his elbows, propping one leg up as the other remains straight. He rounds his shoulders, angling his head, opening his mouth the slightest.

“Try again. Try drawing the outline first, in one swoop.”

I look at him, then at the easel.

“Don’t worry if it’s not perfect. Just… do what feels right. Don’t question it.”

I flip the pad to an empty page.

Tracing my finger through the air, I try my best to capture his outline. I practice the sweep a few times before I take the pencil and try with it. Cam doesn’t push or hurry me, which I appreciate. He just lays there, still as a statue, shirtless like it’s no big deal.

But I guess to him, it isn’t. He’s used to doing this with less clothes on, to be fair.

“Good. Now trace the same line a couple times. Get the feel for the flow. The motion of it.”

I do as he says.

“Now instead of trying to draw, just shade. Find the shadows and look at their shapes. Not their lines.”

Listening to him instruct me, I start to see the bits and pieces come together. When the pizza delivery arrives, I’m shocked to see I’m almost done.

I grab some cash out of my backpack, pay the man, and take the pizza. Cam is next to me in an instant.

He breathes deeply, letting out a groan. “Fuck, that smells so good.”

I pop the box open. “Dig in.”

As he does so, I follow through on my promise and pull up My Chemical Romance on YouTube, on the studio computer.

We used to blast this stuff in my car on the way home from school.

It wasn’t that long ago, but it feels like an eternity. Especially considering soon enough, I’m going to graduate, get married, and start my new life.

Sometimes, I wish we could just go back. Things were so much simpler then, in a lot of ways.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited for the future, but sometimes I feel like I didn’t get to enjoy the past because I was too focused on the future.

Once “Famous Last Words” starts up, I grab my slice, picking off the pineapple nonchalantly and sprinkling it on the rest of the pizza.

Cam smirks at me. “Thanks.”

I watch him grin as he reaches for the slice full of double pineapple.

“What are best friends for?” I ask, with a smile of my own.

The hours tick by until we’re stuffed and exhausted from singing emo songs at the top of our lungs, lying on the floor with too-full stomachs, staring at the ceiling.

“You still free tomorrow?” I ask as I shift my position, hoping to quell my uneasy stomach.

Cam shifts his position, his shoulder brushing mine.

“I’m modeling for the night class tomorrow. Picked up a shift, why?”

“Oh,” I say, unable to hide my disappointment.

“I just… tomorrow’s a big game. I thought maybe if you weren’t doing anything, you could come. Hang out with me and the guys after.”

There’s a palpable silence, and I think he’s going to say no.

“Okay,” he says, quietly.

Gerard sings, his aching voice echoing about haunting smiles and ghosts that will never be caught.

My grin spreads like wildfire.

“Yeah?” I ask with excitement. Cam hasn’t been to a game this year. He’s been busy with school, with his modeling, and of course… his extracurricular activities, not to mention being a part of the wedding. He is the best man, after all.

He turns his face to me, his stormy grey eyes bright like the dawn.

“Yeah, of course. What are best friends for?” he asks.

His smirk reaches his eyes, making them light up. “You still owe me.”

“Huh?” I ask, feeling suddenly exhausted.

“I didn’t get to draw you.”

Oh. Shit. He’s right.

I glance at my phone, realizing it’s nearly two in the morning. Shit!

“Oh, yeah, uh… raincheck?” I say, slightly panicking. My first class is at seven thirty. Fuck!

“I gotta go.” I get up and head for my backpack.

“Yeah, yeah. Another time.” His voice falls as the sounds of “I’m Not Okay (I promise)” fill the air.

“Do you need a ride?” I ask.

Cam doesn’t move. He just stays put on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

“Nope. Car just got fixed, so it’s as good as new,” he says, his voice faraway. I know he’s been having trouble with it, though he didn’t mention what. And I’m not sure where he got money to fix it, but money is a touchy subject with him, so I won’t ask. He knows I don’t throw around the fact I come from money, but I see the way it bothers him when he struggles with it. When I ask if he needs help, he gets defensive instead of just accepting it, as if it means something to me. It doesn’t. I don’t care about it. It’s there, so I may as well use it. I just wish he’d look at it the same way and accept the help so he wouldn’t stress out all the time.

“Just gonna listen a little longer, then I’ll head back.”

“Oh. Okay. Text me when you get back to the dorms?” I know no one’s prowling the campus streets at this hour, but still.

“Yup.”

I nod. “Cool. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Gerard’s faint voice carries as I find my way across the field, to the lab parking lot until it disappears.