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.”
