Outside, the California sun is bright enough to feel rude. The air is cool but not cold, the kind of day in late spring that makes you forget other places still have snow and gray skies and frozen sidewalks.
I walk across campus, past groups of students laughing too loudly, past a couple holding hands like the world hasn’t ever fallen apart for anyone, past a guy skateboarding like gravity is optional.
Life.
It keeps happening.
By the time I reach the student union, Cameron is already there—leaning against the wall near the entrance with his backpack slung over one shoulder, phone in hand. He looks like he slept, which means he probably didn’t. His hair is slightly damp, like he showered after practice, and his jaw is working like it’s been doing that all week—like grinding his teeth is the only thing keeping him from losing it.
When he sees me, his eyes soften.
“Hey,” he says again, quieter this time.
“Hey.”
He pulls me into a hug without asking.
It’s firm. Protective. Cameron’s version of I’m still here. You’re still mine. We’re still us.
I let myself lean into it for a second longer than normal.
Then I pull back and try to act like I’m fine.
We get food—nothing fancy, campus food that tastes like convenience and barely seasoned chicken. Cameron pays without comment, like it’s a thing he can still do for me.
We sit at a table near the window, sunlight pooling across the surface. Outside, students drift past, backpacks bouncing, laughter spilling.
Cameron stares at his tray for a second before taking a bite.
“So,” he says, like he’s testing the word. “How’s…everything?”
I snort softly. “That’s a loaded question.”
His mouth twitches. “Yeah.”
I pick at my food. “It’s…weird. I feel like I’m watching my own life through glass. Like everything’s happening, and I’m just—” I gesture vaguely. “Here.”
Cameron nods, eyes lowering. “Same.”
Silence stretches between us, not awkward—just heavy.
Then Cameron clears his throat. “You’ve been eating more.”
I exhale. “Yeah. I’ve been trying.”
He nods once, satisfied, like that’s the answer he needed to hear.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I blink. “For what?”
“For…not being here the way I should’ve been.” His voice goes rough. “For you. Since everything happened.”
My throat tightens, but I keep my face steady. I’m good at that. I’ve been practicing.
“Cameron,” I start.
He shakes his head, cutting me off. “No. Let me say it.”
