Page 25 of Teach Me

11

CAM

Fuck me, I’d forgotten how much rejection sucked. The last time I’d had an active sex life, I’d been too bombed on something to care. Or maybe I hadn’t gotten rejected. Sometimes I couldn’t even fucking remember what happened when. Sometimes that was a good thing.

Really, no sane person in Lusk’s position would have said yes to my proposition, so I didn’t know why I’d bothered to hope for more, even if I could tell by the look in his eyes that he’d wanted to say yes. I struggled sometimes to discern people’s intentions toward me, but I didn’t miss the desire in Lusk’s eyes, no matter that his mouth had said otherwise. I knew that fucking much.

I couldn’t blame him either. At least I’d shot my shot. Now, I could feel free to go crawl under a rock and wither. Seeing him every day in class for the rest of the semester was going to be a next-level suckfest. Still, it could’ve gone worse, I reminded myself. Grady could have looked at me with disgust, told me to drop the class, get out of his office, and never speak to him again.

I banged through the front door of the house, tossed my backpack down beside the stairs, and followed the hubbub to the kitchen. There was always a hubbub. It was one of the reasons Iloved living here. Quiet reminded me of growing up and of the long nights in rehab.

Hubbub was distracting. Hubbub was exactly what I needed.

“Cameron,” Jesse said sternly, and I winced at my full name. Fuck, why couldn’t the professor have called me Cam like everyone else did? Maybe hubbub had been the wrong move. Retreat sounded better, but I was also hungry. “You are the deciding vote on a housewide poll. This is very important—” He waved what appeared to be a baguette at me.

“I don’t live here anymore, technically,” Nate cut in.

“The indelible marks you and Eric have left upon this abode say differently.” Jesse pointed the baguette at him. “You’re still considered household until the day this house gets fumigated or set on fire.”

Sam snorted as Nate smirked, and Mark straightened from where he was peering into the fridge. “What’d I do?”

“Existed,” Chet quipped, and Jesse waved his baguette again, narrowly missing Ansel’s head.

“Shh! Focus!” Jesse returned his attention to me as I shuffled toward the kitchen island, where sandwich fixings were spread over the counter like a culinary obstacle course. I needed sustenance. The rest of the house needed Jesus. “Sandwiches should have both mustard and mayo on them. Yes or no?”

“Ummm.” I chewed on my lower lip, considering.

“Just yes or no,” Jesse insisted, impatient as ever.

“I can tell you want me to answer a certain way, so I’m having to consider what I really feel versus…” I waved a hand. “Never mind.” Why could I be so certain of my desires in Professor Lusk’s presence and indecisive when it came to a stupid food preference? I exhaled. “No. Final answer.”

The kitchen erupted in whoops, and Jesse flipped all of us off. “Not a goddamn one of you knows what you’re talking about. You need both.”

I absently made a sandwich, ignoring Jesse’stskwhen I only added mustard to it, then slid into an empty chair at the kitchen table, listening to the guys as they continued to debate the necessity of mayo and growing increasingly louder.

A moment later, Mark dropped into the chair next to me and stole a chip off my plate. “You’re welcome,” I muttered with a wan smile.

He planted his elbow on the table, cheek to his fist, and gave me a gauging glance. “You good?” I got asked this question a lot when I’d first returned, but it had tapered off over time.

“I’m fine. I’m not relapsing or anything,” I said around a mouthful of sandwich, which I then pointed to. “Just hungry.”

“I’m not buying ‘just hungry’.” Mark narrowed his eyes. He was different than the other guys, though. We’d initially been close, roommates in the frat house until I’d soundly fucked that up in a lot of ways. Our current status was a work in progress, and I wasn’t sure we’d ever be as close again as we had been. A while before he got together with Chet, Chet and I had screwed around. And I’d kissed Mark before, too, in my pillhead days. The memories were there in hazy fragments. Oops. Made for a little awkwardness that we all tried to bluster past, usually. I’d spoken to each of them alone when I’d returned to campus, apologizing for being such a hot fucking mess, and they’d both accepted. But that didn’t mean things were ever going to go back to the way they were before. I accepted that, too.

When Mark’s stare didn’t let up, I chuckled softly. “How the fuck do you know when something’s up with me?”

He shrugged. “You remember how my mom is.” Mark had told me long ago that his mom suffered from depression that reared its head periodically and knocked her down for days, weeks, sometimes months. Mark was super protective of her. “Something about your expression. I know you’re not relapsing,by the way. You can stop saying that every time someone asks you a question.”

I shrugged. “Preemptive assurance, I guess.”

Mark tapped his brow. “I’d be able to see it in your eyes.”

I believed him, too. I set down my sandwich. “I got rejected by a guy I was into. It’s not a big deal. It just stings a little. It’ll pass.”

“Holy shit, did GHG reject you?” Jesse cut in, eyes going wide.

Goddammit, I should have known better. I swear the dude could be across a football field and would still somehow home in on anything remotely resembling gossip.

Then, he clapped a hand over his mouth, expression apologetic.