Page 6 of Scandal

My head shakes vigorously. “No, thanks, man. They need me to settle down a bit. That’s all. I got this. We’ll be back together on the hunt in no time.” That’s a total lie, because in order to maintain my assholes-anonymous recovery program—a name Joy isn’t that fond of, but supports since I seem to like it so much—hitting on women and drinking are both completely off the table. Whenever I drink, my desire to fuck with people gets way worse.

“Shit. That’s fucking gay. If you change your mind, we’ll be at Sigma tonight.”

Even though I’m cringing at his slur, like the asshole I am, I don’t correct him. “Uh, yeah, sweet, man, maybe. I’ll hit you later.” More lies. Thankfully, lying is not one of the things on my new AA list, even though it maybe should be.

Now I feel like such an asshole, there is only one thing that will calm me down. Dressed in jeans and slide-ins, I beeline for the back door and set off at a run. I’ll only stop once my legs and lungs sting from overuse. It’s the only way I can fill the hole inside me, by making my muscles ache.

Cameron

I have figured out two important things about Xander in the last few days.

First, he is a total enigma. Second, see the first. The man is like a magic eight ball... you never know what you’re going to get out of him. Definitely seems a little depressed though, which is sad, because people that hot shouldn’t be depressed. I know, I’m probably being an asshole again. It’s just that he’s unbearably attractive, and sleeps less than four feet away from me at night. How cruel.

Anyway, I shouldn’t even be thinking about Xan right now. I mean, Xander. Not giving him a cutesy nickname. No sir. Anyway, there’s no reason for him to pop into my brain. I’m sitting at breakfast with my potential new best friends from the LGBTQ+ student group, picking at the berries in a bowl of Greek yogurt.

Currently, they are shouting out ideas for the queer Halloween party, which is still two months away, but they apparently covet the holiday.

“Gay icons?”

“Superheroes, but queer!”

“Lady Gaga fashion?”

“Oh, I know, we should do dead millennial brands. You know, like Blockbuster, American Apparel, Toys-R-Us, Myspace, Blackberry.”

“We’re not millennials,” I laugh. “But I like that one best. Is it too mean though?”

“How so?” Leo counters. Man, he is cute. Blond and really pretty in the face. I wish I was that pretty. Maybe I am. I wouldn’t know. Even with these guys, I never get hit on… so there’s that.

“I don’t know. Not mean to the brands, but is it making fun of people who are older than us?”

“Didn’t mean it that way,” Dillan says with a shrug. He is taller than Leo and has these pretty wide-set eyes.

Owen, the smallest of the group, taps his chin. “I think it’s a good one. We can just say go as defunct brands, but leave out the millennial part.”

“People are going to wear whatever anyway, do we really need a theme?” Leo reasons.

Seriously, since I am starting to become friends with a group a gay guys, why isn’t anyone looking at me with fuck-me eyes? Maybe I have too much of a baby face. That’s probably it. I steal a glance at my face in the window’s reflection and suck my cheeks between my teeth. That makes me look like a cocked-out model, which is possibly better than looking like an overgrown toddler. But there isn’t any fat on me to lose. I’m practically skin and bone already. And I don’t want to give up the little peach I worked all summer for.

In this day and age, butts are king.

***

Back at my dorm, after a long-overdue self-love session, I am obsessing about my baby face, studying it in the mirror, when Xander walks into the room. Wasn’t he supposed to be in class all morning? I quickly jump back from the mirror, not wanting him to see me being so damn insecure.

I swear, he fights back a chuckle. “What’s so funny?” I say in an uncharacteristically bold moment.

“Easy, kitten,” he mutters, almost under his breath, but not quite.

I spin around to face him. “What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

He takes me in, eyeing me. My hands are planted on my hips and I’m tapping my toe and the whole thing makes me look a little ridiculous, so I straighten and will my hands to hang lamely at my sides. “I’m not a kitten. If anything, I’m like, a… a lion.”Smooth.

“It was a joke. I’m aware you’re not a kitten, even if you are cute like one.” He turns away from me, thankfully, as my mouth drops open.

“Did you just call me cute?” I manage with a shaky voice.

Xander looks up at me with those orange-brown eyes of his, and I feel like I’ve been smacked.

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