Page 63 of Something to Prove

Carson blinked in surprise, and I couldn’t blame him. But I wasn’t playing this game anymore.

He licked his lower lip. “What do you mean? Didn’t you want me to follow you?”

“No. I didn’t. I’m not…” I huffed a laugh, unsure how to explain myself.

“You’re seeing someone,” he guessed, narrowing his eyes. “Who?”

“It’s not?—”

“Oh.” Carson’s mouth formed a perfect O. “Don’t tell me…you’re fucking the redhead.”

Not a question, a statement.

“Jesus.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “I don’t?—”

“Hey, it’s cool. I kind of wondered what was going on. I’ve seen you with him on campus. A lot. I get it. He’s a new flavor, Internet famous, and?—”

“It’s not—it’s not like that.” Walker was more to me. Much more.

“Sure. Does anyone know?” Silence. “No shit. Interesting.” More silence. Carson raised his hands in surrender. “Okay. Whatever.”

He made a meal out of adjusting his semi and turned away.

“Hey, Carson?” I waited for him to face me, hating that this was necessary. “Don’t say anything.”

He scoffed. “Who amIgonna tell? Just…call me when you get bored. Or when he gets bored of you.”

I worked my jaw, gnashing my teeth in an effort to control a new burst of anger I wasn’t sure I was entitled to.

So much for being out of the closet.

The string of half-truths and lies of omission felt heavy as fuck. I mean…how was it that my ex-fuck-buddy knew about Walker and me, and my agent knew who Walker’s dad was? Those wereoursecrets. No one else was supposed to know that stuff.

I still believed it was perfectly acceptable to keep our private lives under wraps. And it wasn’t as if anything had changed. It was just that Carson was the last person I’d tell. He was, well…insignificant. Not a friend, not an enemy—just someone I used to fuck.

I felt trapped by the things I didn’t say. I wasn’t real anymore. I hid good things while pretending to be transparent. Playing it safe so I wouldn’t lose something I didn’t have anyway. Walker wasn’t mine to lose. He wasn’t coming with me to Florida next year. He’d laugh if I suggested it. Or would he?

Would the Jackals care if I had a boyfriend? Did I want a boyfriend?

See what I mean? I was a mess.

And this was my state of mind when I spoke to Walker the next day. Not a text, an actual phone call.

I told him about the party and that I was the only one without a hangover at practice. Then I told him about Carson. He went quiet on the line, but I assured him that Carson wouldn’t say anything, and he seemed okay with that. Someone in the background was yelling that it was Walker’s turn, and he groaned as he filled me in on the game of Pictionary taking place in the living room. I didn’t know that was still a thing. He’d laughed and damn, I loved the sound of that laugh.

So like a fucking idiot, I said so.

Walker snickered. “Do you?”

“Yeah. I miss it.” I paused, adding, “I miss you.”

Oh, my God. Was that me? Had those words left my mouth…for real? Okay, it was true, but I didn’t have to admit it. That was boss-level sappy shit on par with my dad getting teary-eyed at Hallmark commercials. Who was I?

“Come see me.”

“Huh?”

“Fly to Toronto after Christmas. Stay for a couple of nights.”