Page 55 of Can I Tell You Something?
Cameron rushes to my side, pushing my hair back from my face and pulling me into his arms. A small part of me feels awkward that he’s touching me, hugging me in front of my parents, but it’s overridden by relief. Relief that he’s in from the cold, relief that our secret is out there. I hadn’t realised how heavy it felt.
“Are you OK?” he asks.
“I’m fine. Are you?”
“If you’re OK, I’m OK,” he says, looking around the room like he also can’t believe what just went down. “He won’t let me apologise.”
He sounds genuinely heartbroken, like a child who’s broken a beloved vase, and knows they’ve done wrong but has no idea how to fix it.
“Here,” I say, pushing one of the armchairs towards the woodburner. “Take your socks off and sit by the fire. I’ll fetch you some dry ones. Apologies can wait.”
He drops into the chair like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, and I kiss the top of his head before going upstairs. Walking down the hallway, I pass my room, then Cam’s, and knock on Ryan’s door.
“Hey, can I come in?”
“Sure,” he grunts.
I enter slowly and perch at the end of his bed. Ryan scoots up towards the headboard, wrapping his arms around his knees.
“Are you mad at me?”
“No. I’m fucking fuming at him, though. I specifically asked him not to hit on you.”
“You can’t ask people to do that. And it was a mutual thing.”
“He does this though, Hannah. He…” I can practically see the cogs turning in his brain. “He sleeps with women and then he… It’s not good.”
“Ryan, it’s OK. I know about Mac.”
His head rears back. “He told you?”
“No, I… er… I actually already knew about his work. I recognised him the day you arrived.”
“Oh, right.” He softens a little, then tenses again when it all sinks in. “Oh my God, I don’t want to think about what you’re actually telling me right now.”
“That’s why I was so quiet when you first got here. I didn’t want anyone to know, but he figured it out and then things just snowballed from there.”
“Fuck,” he says, raking his hands through his hair. “He’s gonna use you, turn you into another one of his stories.”
“Listen, I’ve been playing catch up here too, and I don’t know how much you know about his work, but not all of those stories are real. They’re just fantasies. He makes them up.”
“No, he… he does things… he’s into some kinky shit.”
Lucky me.
I press my lips together and try not to laugh.
“So many women,” he continues. “He’ll only hurt you.”
“I don’t think it’s that many, Ryan.”
“You don’t know.”
“No, I don’t know. So is he lying to me? You’re his best friend, you tell me. How many women does he hook up with? I have no way of knowing. Is he bringing different women home every night of the week?”
“No, you’re right, he doesn’t do that. He’s too busy working.”
“He just has a good imagination,” I say, memories of the way he tells stories rushing forward in my brain.
