But what’s worse is how part of me misses him.
Fox has been avoiding me ever since.He doesn’t talk to me, doesn’t even acknowledge my presence.It’s like I’m invisible to him.Sometimes he just glares at me if any of his friends strike up a conversation, but other than that, he’s barely around.For the past few nights, I’ve had the apartment to myself, and honestly?I kind of miss having him around.
I know it’s messed up, but these past few nights, when Fox hasn’t come home at all, the apartment feels emptier than ever.I catch myself listening for his music, waiting for one of his sarcastic comments, even longing for one of his dark, brooding stares.And it frustrates me to no end.Why do I care if he’s around?He’s rude, selfish, and everything I should hate.So why do I feel so restless without him here?
It’s unsettling, this slow realization that beneath all my anger, there’s something else.Something that makes me feel like I’m always standing too close to the fire when he’s around.I haven’t seen him at school either—no sightings in the cafeteria or parking lot.Nothing.
As I walk down the hall to my next class, I wonder if I should be worried.Landon and I have gotten close lately, and his best friend, Nat, is part of our circle too.Leanne and I have been going to the literature club together, which has been great, though she keeps inviting me to house parties, and I keep declining.I’m not exactly a party person.The whole scene—drinking, smoking, random hookups—feels like a disaster waiting to happen.
Landon even asked if I wanted to go to a gay bar with him once, but I turned him down.I only recently came out to myself, and I’m not quite ready for all that.Besides, I’m still figuring out where I stand with Fox…not that it matters.At least Fox hasn’t thrown any homophobic slurs my way recently.That’s progress, I guess.
I slide into a seat next to Landon, who’s already absorbed in a book.“Hey,” I say.
Landon looks up with a smile.“Hey.How’s it going?”
“You know, the usual.”I shrug and drop my bag next to my chair.We’re five minutes early, so class hasn’t started yet.
“Your roommate still MIA?”Landon asks, smirking.
“Yeah.He hasn’t been home in days.Is it weird to be worried?”
Landon rolls his eyes.“Why would you be?Your roommate doesn’t give a shit about you, and he’s probably crashing at his frat house.”
“Maybe,” I say with a sigh.“But I haven’t seen him at school either.”
“Cameron, seriously.Fox doesn’t care about you, and you shouldn’t care about him either.He’s an asshole.”
“I know, I know.It’s just…I dunno.He’s still my roommate, and I guess I feel responsible.”
Landon gives me a knowing look, but thankfully, he lets it drop.“How’s Nat?”I ask, eager to change the subject.
“She’s good.How are you?Still trying to find a place to live since your roommate’s a dick?”Landon grins.
I laugh.“Can’t afford it, and you know that.Also still looking for a job.”
“What kind of job?”
“Any job that can help pay some bills.”
Landon nudges me with his shoulder.“I know a few guys who know a few guys.I’ll help you find something.”
I smile gratefully.“Thanks, man.”
“No problem.”Landon shrugs as the professor walks in and starts class.
As the lecture begins, I try to focus on the material, but my thoughts keep drifting back to Fox.Why do I care so much?What is it about him that gets under my skin?
Maybe it’s time I admit what’s really bothering me.It’s not just that Fox is an asshole.It’s the fact that, despite everything, I can’t stop thinking about him—and I hate that.
Sitting in a booth at the café across from campus, I watch Landon pretend to skim the menu like he’s not going to order the same burrito he gets every time.It’s become a routine—his fake indecision, my quiet amusement—and something about it feels… safe.Comfortable.
The café hums with midday energy.Clinking cups, low conversation, the hiss of the espresso machine behind the counter.Students dominate the tables, most of them hunched over laptops or textbooks, half-awake, and overdosing on caffeine.A few office types in suits or blouses blend into the background, giving the place that perfect mix of chaos and calm.
I let my gaze drift across the room, casually scanning the crowd—until it snags on a familiar silhouette.
Brown hair, slightly tousled.Pale skin.Shoulders hunched, head down, a phone in hand.There’s a crease between his brows like the world just won’t let him breathe.
Fox is sitting at a table near the window, slouched in his chair like he owns the place.Carter’s beside him, shamelessly flirting with Annette—the poor waitress looks half-amused, half-exhausted.Typical.
