Page 27 of Kicking It with the Point Guard

“May I help you?” one of the library assistants asks.

“Yes,” I say. Not sure that Cameron can speak right now. He’s visibly shaking beside me. “Study room twelve is full of shit. It needs to be cleaned.”

“Excuse me?” she says, placing her hand across her chest like I’ve offended her honor with my cursing.

“There is poop all over study room twelve.” I stare at her. “It was like that when we got there. We have it reserved for tutoring.”

She stares back at me, mouth agape.

“Listen, lady, I think it would be a good idea to take care of this situation now before someone else opens the door and the smell gets out. I don’t want all of these books to smell like the inside of a toilet any more than you do, I imagine.”

That spurs her into action. She leaps up and rushes around us, pulling her cell phone out of her cardigan pocket.

I sigh, looking at my study buddy. I can accurately call him that now.

“What should we do now? We were going to do test prep today.” I look around and catch a faint whiff of something nasty.

Cam grabs my hand and pulls me out of the library. The contact stuns me momentarily, but I don’t have time to process it.

We’re out of the library and on the campus green in seconds.

“We can study in my room. My roommate is gone this weekend. His grandma died.”

“Oh, okay.”

He takes off in the direction of the guys’ dorm, and I follow close behind. He’s not moving quite as fast as he was in the library, so it’s easier to keep up.

I hear a small gasp from off to the right and look up to see one of the head cheer bitch’s lackies snapping a picture of us walking toward the dorm.

I grimace, but it is what it is. Nothing is going to get in the way of me passing this test.

I flip her the bird, and she rolls her eyes before walking off, her face glued to her phone.

We reach the dorm, and Cameron leads me to the third floor. He unlocks the door to his room and promptly removes his shoes, sliding them into place beside his wardrobe.

As soon as I look around his room, I remove mine as well, scooting them next to his. One half of the room is immaculate. There’s a place for everything. The desk has a laptop placed in the exact center. One pencil is placed directly next to it, perfectly parallel.

The bed is made, and there’s not a wrinkle to be found.

The other half of the room looks how I imagine a boys’ dorm room should look.

The bed is rumpled and unmade. There are cans and wrappers littering the desk. Piles of clothes are shoved in various places under the bed and beside the other wardrobe.

Cameron ignores the haphazard side of the room and hangs his backpack on a command hook on the side of his wardrobe.

When he looks at me, the tips of his ears are red. He rubs the back of his neck.

“Make yourself at home, I guess.”

The bed would be the best place for us to work, since there’s room for both of us there, but I’m afraid to mess it up.

I’ll just let him make the decision. That way, I know what he’s comfortable with.

“Um, where would you like to study?”

He looks around the room, uncharacteristically nervous.

“The bed probably has the most room.” His cheeks turn the lightest shade of pink, and I turn away to hide my own blush.

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