Page 30

Campbell

I lay there next to her, our bodies tangled in the soft sheets, the quiet of the room wrapping around us like a blanket. Hazel’s head rested on my chest, her breathing steady and calm, and I couldn’t help but trace the lines of her face in my mind. There was a softness to her, a vulnerability I hadn’t expected, and it made my chest ache in a way I wasn’t used to.

She shifted slightly, her fingers brushing against my bare skin, and I could feel the heat of her body against mine. I wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in my throat. What could I say? How could I explain that I was holding her, the girl I’d never let myself get this close to, and it felt more right than anything had in my life? Her voice broke through the silence, soft and tired.

“Campbell?”

“Yeah?” I asked, my hand running up and down her arm.

“I’m glad it was you.” She whispered, and I could feel the warmth of her words in my bones.

I exhaled slowly, the weight of her statement settling over me.

“I’m honored that it was me.”

The words felt strange coming from me, but somehow, they felt right. She smiled, her lips brushing against my chest as she adjusted, her head finding a more comfortable spot. The light from the streetlamp outside the window cast a soft glow over the room, but it was the warmth between us that made everything else fade away.

We spent the next few minutes talking, but it wasn’t about anything important—just small talk. Nothing that mattered. Just words to fill the space between us, to keep the moment alive for as long as possible.

“I can’t believe I actually did it,” Hazel murmured, her voice still thick with sleepiness. “I mean, I always thought it’d be more I don’t know, dramatic?”

I chuckled softly, brushing a lock of hair away from her face.

“Life’s not always dramatic. Sometimes it’s just simple.”

She hummed in agreement, her hand finding mine under the covers, her fingers intertwining with mine.

“I like simple,” she whispered. “I think I’ve always been searching for it, but I never realized it until now.”

I couldn’t say anything. The weight of her words hit me like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t what I’d planned for, but now, in the quiet of the night, I wasn’t sure I’d ever want anything else.

We fell silent again, the only sound the soft rhythm of our breathing. I was almost there, on the edge of sleep, when I felt Hazel shift again, her body curling closer to mine, seeking comfort. I didn’t pull away. I never did.

I let myself slip into a peaceful doze, the warmth of her body pressed against mine, her steady breath filling the quiet. I didn’t care about the rules anymore. No cuddling. No small talk. No sleeping over. They didn’t matter when I was with her.

But when I woke up a little while later, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was still holding her. Still lying in her bed. Still tangled in her sheets. My chest tightened as I stared at the ceiling, her body curled against mine, her hair spread across my arm. The rules I’d set for myself, the ones that kept me from getting too attached, too comfortable, they didn’t matter anymore.

Not when it came to her.

Hazel was still asleep beside me. Her bare shoulder peeked out from beneath the sheets, her hair spilling across the pillow in wild waves, lips parted as she breathed. Peaceful. Unaware. She had told me she loved me. The words were supposed to feel dreamlike, enveloping me in a warmth I didn’t realize I craved. But they felt like a trap, a snare tightening around my chest, cutting off my air.

I sat up, careful not to wake her, my skin damp from everything that happened between us. My pulse pounded at my temples, my heart a traitorous mess of confusion and something close to panic. She loved me . The words rang in my skull, rattling against the walls I had spent years fortifying. I had convinced myself no one could ever love me, not really. Not for long. I was unstable, elusive, constantly expecting disaster. But Hazel had said it like she meant it. Like she believed it.

A breath shuddered out of me, and I dragged a hand through my hair, reaching for my phone on the nightstand—anything to ground me, to keep me from sinking into the terrifying abyss of what-ifs and emotions I wasn’t ready to face. The screen lit up in the dark. Vicariously Campbell . My brows furrowed at the subject line. The name meant nothing to me, but something about it sent a sharp pulse of unease through my gut. I hesitated before tapping it open.

Thought you’d want to see this.

Below it—a link. I stared at it. My thumb hovered, an instinct deep in my bones telling me not to open it. That link held something destructive. But I clicked anyway. The webpage was loaded in seconds, and everything inside me went still. It was a book. At first, I didn’t understand. The title, the synopsis—it was all about me. Meeting Hazel outside a bookstore, that happened, but the rest of the story was unfamiliar. I scrolled with shaky fingers, my breath locking in my throat as I skimmed through paragraphs, words I didn’t recognize but somehow felt.

Had she been writing this the whole time? Had I been nothing more than inspiration? Material? My stomach twisted. I thought I was the plot twist in her life. Turns out, I was just a fucking character in her story.

A bitter laugh scraped up my throat, but it got stuck somewhere behind the lump forming there. I dropped my phone onto the bed like it had burned me, my hands numb, my head spinning. I couldn’t be here. Not next to her. This bed, which felt like the safest place in the world just moments ago, no longer provided that comfort. Claustrophobia set in; the air grew heavy.

I shoved the blankets off, moving so I wouldn’t wake her, but my hands shook as I grabbed my clothes. I pulled my shirt over my head, yanking it down with more force than necessary, my pulse a violent roar in my ears. I risked one last glance at Hazel. She shifted in her sleep, brows pinching together like she could feel the distance between us. She looked innocent. Like she was mine. And yet, I couldn’t shake the sick feeling in my gut that someone had just manipulated me.

My fingers curled around the doorknob, hesitation creeping in for half a second before I forced myself to turn it. I swallowed hard, my lungs too tight, my head spinning. Hazel. The girl I thought I loved. The girl who had loved me back. The girl who had turned me into fiction . And then—without another thought—I left.

**

I never thought I’d willingly come back home. Not after convincing myself that I had moved on from this place, believing that the memories here no longer affected me. But anywhere was better than on campus. At least here, in my old bedroom with its dark walls and dust-covered hockey trophies, I could drown in my misery without hearing the whispers, without seeing the texts. Without seeing her.

My phone sat on the nightstand, the screen long since black. I had shut it off hours ago, unable to stomach the notifications piling up—messages from teammates, from Kendall, from people I didn’t even know. And worst of all, from Hazel.

I couldn’t face her. Not now. Not when the entire fucking school had seen the book. Read the words she wrote about me. That was what gutted me. Not the book. Not the fact that she had kept it from me. The Campbell she adored, her reciprocal love, was a fabrication. I wasn’t him. The guy in her book was better. Stronger. More patient. His burdens differed from mine. He wasn’t terrified of fucking up, of pushing people away before they could do it first. The guy in her book deserved her. Perhaps that proved insurmountable. I didn’t know if I ever could.

I stared at the ceiling, my arms crossed behind my head, the weight in my chest pressing deeper. A dull ache settled behind my ribs, creeping into the space Hazel had carved inside me. What if she only loved the idea of me?

The bedroom door groaned open; I knew who it was. Small feet. Light steps. A familiar, unwavering presence. Morgan. My little sister never knocked. She never hesitated. And today was no exception.

“You look like you lost a fight,” she said, hopping onto the bed beside me. Her tiny frame barely dented the mattress, but her words hit like a punch. “You didn’t, right?”

I snorted, shifting.

“No.”

“Good, ‘cause you’d lose.”

I turned to glare at her, but she just grinned, unfazed.

“Remind me why I let you in here?”

“Because I’m your favorite person in the world.” She shrugged before her smile faded. She plopped down beside me, resting her chin in her hands. “Dad said you’re being a mopey little weirdo.”

A groan scraped up my throat.

“Glad to know he still talks about me like I’m twelve.”

Morgan nudged me with her elbow.

“Well, are you?”

I didn’t answer. Because yeah. Maybe I was. Morgan’s sharp eyes studied me, revealing an unnerving perceptiveness for someone so young.

“Is it about Hazel?”

My stomach twisted. Everything was about Hazel. I exhaled, my chest rising and falling under the weight of something I couldn’t name.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Morgan scoffed.

“That’s such a boy thing to say. It matters, or else you wouldn’t be here.” She wasn’t wrong. But I didn’t have an answer she’d understand. I wasn’t sure I understood it myself. I stayed quiet, expecting her to get bored and leave. Instead, she stretched beside me, resting on her stomach, legs swinging in the air. “I like her, you know,” she said, as if she hadn’t just torn me open a second ago. “Hazel. She’s nice. She listens to me. And she makes you smile. You don’t smile anymore.”

I swallowed hard.

“I smile.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Did she hurt you?” Morgan asked, her voice quieter now. “Or did you hurt her?” A muscle ticked in my jaw. In the end, I think we hurt each other. I cannot explain this to her. Morgan sighed, rolling onto her side so she could see me. She poked my arm, harder this time. “You’re not Dad, you know.”

My entire body locked up.

“Morgan—”

“I mean it,” she said, fierce and certain. “You’re not him. And Hazel isn’t your mom. You’re my big brother, and you’ve done more for me than Mom or Dad ever has. It’s time to do something for you.”

A lump rose in my throat, burning like acid. It’s not that simple. But was it? Morgan sat up, her expression shifting.

“Come on.”

I blinked.

“What?”

She grabbed my arm and started tugging.

“Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“To the kitchen.”

I frowned.

“Why?”

“Because I made cookies, and you need sugar to make you less dumb.”

I let out a rough laugh, the sound hoarse in my throat.

“That’s not how it works.”

“Well, we’re gonna try, anyway.”

I watched her for a second, this tiny human who somehow knew me better than I knew myself. And for the first time since I opened that email, since I saw the video, since I walked out of Hazel’s dorm—something inside me eased. Maybe I was running. Maybe I was afraid. But Morgan was right about one thing. I wasn’t my father. And Hazel wasn’t someone I wanted to lose forever. I sighed, sitting up and swinging my legs over the bed.

“Fine.”

Morgan beamed, hopping off the mattress.

“Good. But if you take too long, I’m eating your cookies.”

I shook my head, following her out of the room. Maybe I wasn’t ready to fix things yet. But I wanted to try.