Once they’re gone, Mr.Wilder’s gaze lands on me—sharp, assessing, and deeply unsettling.
“And who are you?”he asks, voice cool and clipped like he’s already decided I don’t belong here.
I resist the instinct to shrink under his stare.“I’m, uh… I’m his—”
“He’s my roommate,” Fox cuts in, saving me from having to explain.His voice is stiff.Controlled.
Mr.Wilder’s expression softens—barely—as he steps forward.He offers a tight smile, the kind that’s more habit than sincerity.“You must be Cameron, then.”
“Yes, sir.Cameron Brooke,” I reply, doing my best to stay polite.
“Sean Wilder,” he says, extending a hand.His grip is firm, his tone pleasant.“Good morning.”
“Morning, sir.”
“I’ve heard good things about you,” Mr.Wilder says, that thin smile still frozen on his face.It doesn’t reach his eyes.Behind him, Fox rollshiseyes.
“Thank you,” I say awkwardly, unsure how much of this is real and how much is just for show.
But then Mr.Wilder’s smile fades as he turns back to Fox.His gaze sweeps across the apartment—at the mess, the bottles, the smoke-stained air.
“You’re the only good thing in my son’s life right now,” he mutters, so low I barely catch it.And then, louder: “And whatisthis?Parties at the start of the academic year?This isn’t freshman year, Jakob.You need to get serious about your life.”
Jakob?I file the name away.First name or middle name?Either way, it doesn’t sound likehim.
Fox doesn’t answer.He doesn’t even look up.His jaw is clenched, pale with fury and embarrassment.
“I’m tired of this behavior,” Mr.Wilder continues, voice rising.“First, almost getting kicked off the soccer team.Now parties?Drugs?Look at this place—cigarettes, alcohol, people who don’t evenlivehere.”
That’s my cue.
I start inching toward the hallway, trying not to make noise, but before I can disappear, Fox’s eyes flick up—and lock onto mine.
I freeze.
His glare is blistering.All that shame his father just dumped on him?He’s redirecting it.At me.
“I was only having fun, Dad,” Fox mutters finally, but it sounds hollow.Weak.
“Fun?” Mr.Wilder’s tone sharpens.“You call this fun?Parties and smoking when you’re supposed to be studying?You think you’re still in high school?”
Fox says nothing.His father stares at him a second longer before letting out a long, disappointed sigh.
“I’m leaving.And I expect you to make better use of your life,Jakob.”He turns to me again, this time with a forced smile.“See you around, Cameron.”
Then he’s gone.
The door clicks shut, and the tension in the room snaps like a wire pulled too tight.Fox runs both hands through his hair, pacing for a second, his face red with rage.
I take one step toward the hallway, but his voice stops me cold.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
I turn slowly.His eyes are dark, brooding, stormy.
“I don’t have any issue with you,” I say, trying to keep my voice level.“I’m just—”
“Are you fuckingserious?”he snaps, stepping forward.“My father just compared me toyou.What the hell makes you think you’re better than me?”
