Home, he reflected. This feels like home to me.

  He ignored the sun spilling over his shoulder in favor of holding onto Randall. There was nowhere he would rather be. Although there would be classes to attend and tests to take, he just wanted to hold this moment for as long as he could. He needed to stay right here and think of nothing else.

  Nothing could have mattered more.

  His alarm buzzed on his phone. He groaned and rolled over to shut it off, holding it close to his face so he could find the right button. Two words forced his eyelids to fully open: test today.

  “Is it already Friday?!” he exclaimed as he hopped from his bed.

  Randall hardly stirred.

  Caleb became a frantic dust storm as he tripped over the edge of the bed and started to get his slow body in gear. He wasn't ready yet—he hadn't even studied! He had spent the entire night with Randall without a care in the world.

  And apparently without any regard for his grades.

  He slipped on a pair of jeans and tossed a t-shirt over his head, not bothering to check whether it was even on correctly. He located a pair of socks and slipped those on as well while attempting to locate his shoes. Everything was awry in his room. Since Kyle had dumped him and Randall had taken Kyle's place, everything was out of order.

  “Where's my bag? My books? God!”

  He sifted through the items strewn all over the floor, finding one shoe but not the other. He reached under his bed and fumbled around until he found the matching shoe. He yanked them on without tying the laces. While grabbing his bag from the chair, he knocked a stack of papers over. He waved at them as if it would make the mess go away.

  “Can't worry—got a test.”

  Randall grumbled as he rolled on the bed. Caleb huffed as he popped over to give him a quick kiss, ruffling his hair and then heading for the door. Caleb shut it as quietly as possible behind him, his skin crawling as if his body were counting down the seconds, he desperately needed to cram information into his head.

  Coffee—I need coffee! He sprinted down the hall, down the steps, and crossed the courtyard in record time to make it to the cafeteria. As he sped inside, he nearly collided with someone balancing a tray. He whispered his apologies as he hopped in line, swiped his student card, and collected a to-go cup of coffee—the largest one they had. I've got to study...I've got to get to class...

  He reached mindlessly into his pocket for his phone.

  But it wasn't there.

  Panic swept over his body as he reached for a few packets of cream and sugar. He placed a lid on the cup and took off for the back of the cafeteria, retracing his steps to the building where his test would be.

  No phone. No food. But at least I have coffee. And there's a cute guy in my bed who will be happy to hold me when I come running back as a huge stress ball.

  He wandered inside the ice cool building, humming as he frantically searched for the right room. His eyes were still glossed over with sleep. There was sand at the corners of his eyes, but he couldn't wipe it away. Not yet. He had to find the right classroom.

  He caught a glimpse of the clock in the hallway—it was ten minutes until the class started. It rattled him into action, and he sprinted a few doors down, locating the right room and slipping into a seat in the back. He set his coffee down, his hands quivering as he reached into his bag for his textbook.

  Ten minutes is plenty of time, he assured himself. I just need to go over a few basics and I'll be good to go.

  But it didn't feel like enough. Even as he crammed word after word into his mind, attempting to commit it to memory, it was too late. Class was about to begin. The test would start shortly after that. If he didn't get enough coffee in his system, he wouldn't be able to see straight enough to read the questions on the exam.

  He stared at the white board ahead of him. He wasn't even reading anymore. He merely stared blankly with the multitude of alarms blaring in his brain. Maybe he had made a mistake. Maybe he should have told Randall that he had studying to do instead of going on an adventure.

  In all technicality, I did tell him I had to study. But I was so tempted to go with him instead. What's happening to me?

  He squinted at the board. Nothing was written on it yet. The professor wasn't even present, but students were piling into the room. It only doubled his anxiety and he sank down as far as possible, hoping he didn't look like he wasn't prepared. He buried his nose between the pages of his textbook and didn't look up until the professor greeted the class.

  When he did perk up, he noticed his vision had cleared up a bit. He reached for his coffee and took a few confident sips, feeling his consciousness returning with each drop. He didn't even have time to put cream and sugar in his drink. The bitter taste of black coffee wasn't great, but it was doing the trick and he kept sipping.

  The professor withdrew a stack of papers. He passed them out to each row, the sight of it intensifying Caleb's fear. As the test appeared on his desk, he stared at the letters strewn over the page. Three pages—ten questions—this was nothing he hadn't handled before.

  But could he handle it now with all the stress he was under?

  After taking a deep breath, he settled into his seat, plucked his pen from his bag, and went to work.

  Chapter Nine

  Randall

  Randall recalled Caleb frantically getting ready for class. He had peeked across the room at the last second, spotting Caleb rushing out the door, but hadn't considered jumping up from the bed himself.

  Five more minutes, he told himself. I'll get up after I get a small nap.

  The more Randall stayed in the bed, the more he wanted Caleb to be with him. He thought about their night in the woods and how he had never felt such passion from someone. It made him feel alive again. He felt refreshed and renewed even as he felt that he didn't get enough sleep.

  After a few more minutes with his eyes closed, he rolled over. There was no digital clock indicating the time with bright red numbers. He frowned as he rolled over again. That wasn't his poster on the wall. These sheets weren't his.

  He huffed with amusement. “Right—I'm in Caleb's room.”

  He chuckled to himself and sat up from the cot, rubbing the gunk away from his eyes. His shoulders were sore and his lower back ached, but the rest of him felt amazing. He tucked his hands behind his head, laid back, and stared at the ceiling. He was smiling.

  What a night! I never thought that could happen with Caleb. The grin on his lips widened. But here I am in his bed. His sheets smell like him. Hell, I still smell like him. He inhaled the familiar aroma of Caleb, sighing deeply. I wish he would just come back right now.

  As he shifted his position, he noticed his phone sitting on the bedside table. Next to it was a massive stack of books lined up between two wooden bookends. The bookends were wooden airplanes with their noses pointed up toward the sky. Carved into each plane were a row of windows and a minimal design that resembled a flight logo.

  He let his eyes trail lazily to the bed on the other side of the room made up with blue and white blankets that were messily covering the bed. The logo of Missoula University was imprinted on the top blanket. Above that were a medley of rock band posters that appeared to have been slapped on with tape and tacks.

  Randall snorted. And Caleb thought I was messy. How does he even deal with his roommate?

  His phone beeped. When he reached for it, he found a slew of emails regarding swim practice, hot deals on new swimwear from his favorite website, and one message about his morning class getting canceled. He glanced at the time.

  Well, that was sheer, dumb luck. I would have been ten minutes late if Dr. Shorn hadn't just emailed us.

  He cleared the notifications on his phone and opened up a fresh text message, keying Caleb's name at the top. He sent a sweet message about hurrying back for cuddles and set his phone down next to his pillow. A loud buzzing sound startled him. It sounded like a jackhammer ramming into concrete.

  When he sat up, he noticed another phone sitting on the bedside table. He laughed as he reached for it. “Silly kid. He left his phone.”

  Randall's message was at the top of the screen. Beneath his message were a collection of notifications ranging from emails to text messages to missed calls. Randall blinked at the missed calls notification. How had Caleb missed thirty calls? It seemed impossible. He didn't recall Caleb getting any calls the previous night. Then again, they were more occupied with each other than with their phones.

  He set the phone down on the table. If he kept staring at the screen, then he would start getting nosy and he'd check the messages. And he didn't want to be that guy.

  Kyle was probably that type of person, he reflected as he relaxed against the pillow. But that's not me. That's not who I am.

  He held up his own phone and started mindlessly scrolling through social media, hoping to find a distraction. But when Caleb's phone buzzed again, he felt a pang of curiosity in his gut. He jutted his lower jaw out in contemplation.

  One look wouldn't hurt.

  He reached out to lift the phone and felt the weight of it in his hands, the weight of his decision. Even so much as a glance could put him on thin ice with Caleb. But Caleb didn't need to know. Randall could just pretend that nothing had happened, that it was an accident, that he hadn't meant to take a peek.

  Just one little peek. A small one. The smallest fraction of a peek.

  When he slid his finger across the screen, it prompted him for a password. This was easy. He typed in the year they had graduated from high school and the screen opened up, revealing a host of apps and games sitting on the home screen. He scrolled through the screens. As organized as Caleb was in the real world, his digital world seemed to be a wreck.

  Another message popped up. The sender's name was unknown.

  Randall arched his brow.

  When he clicked on the message, he found a dozen or so texts that were all related to each other. Most of them indicated the sender's feelings, that the sender missed Caleb, but many of them were poorly typed poems.

  He laughed. If this guy is trying to win over Caleb, he's not doing very well. Caleb hates poetry.

  Another message rolled in. The screen lit up Randall's face that glowered with worry, his brows knitting together as his eyelids fluttered. It wasn't particularly worrisome to see texts from some unknown source directed at his lover.

  But the fact that they were from Kyle made all the difference.

  As he squinted at the black letters on the white screen, he felt a heat growing in his belly. It started as a match, wavering slightly in the dark, until tinder was added to the flames, making it grow into a magnanimous fire. The heat overwhelmed his limbs as he shot up from the bed.

  He read back through the messages with a striking awareness. “I miss you—I'm sorry about breaking up with you—That guy you were holding hands with would never please you like I could—Just meet me tonight and I can show you how.”

  Randall took a shaky breath. While sitting up further from the sheets, he heard the doorknob rattle. A series of knocks followed along with a husky voice that sounded either sick or hungover: “Cal—It's Harrison—I left my key. Could you let me in?”

  Randall debated whether he should get up. He was holding Caleb's phone in one hand and his dignity in the other, feeling like he was being played. If he got up now, he might crumble to the ground.

  But sooner rather than later, Harrison would need to get into the room and Randall would have to announce his presence.

  Five minutes, tops, he considered. I could just leave as I'm letting him in. It's totally fine. I'm totally fine right now.

  “Just a second!” he called out, and in a lower voice said to himself, “Where the hell are my pants?”

  As he gathered his clothes from the ground, the knocking on the door persisted. Harrison kept muttering something about a book he needed, fresh clothes, and potentially a shower. When Randall yanked on his pants, he pulled open the door and stepped back as the light flooded in.

  Harrison stared at Randall. “Uh...hi? Am I at the wrong door again?”

  “How often does that happen?”

  “You'd be surprised. Where's Caleb?”

  “He's in class. I'm his...best friend, Randall.”

  Harrison nodded with a sly grin. “Best friend—right. I knew he was up to something while I was out last night. Would you tell him he missed our fantasy football meeting?”

  “Yeah, sure. I'll see you around.”

  “All right, dude. Take care!”

  Randall held his hand over his heart as he left the room. He was palpitating. He glanced down at his shoeless feet, feeling a sense of guilt and shame wash over his body. It wasn't like him to regret anything, but it wasn't really like him to want to stick around and be played by somebody he loved.

  Would Caleb really do that? Would he try reeling in his ex while keeping me? Maybe I'm just a bookmark. Maybe it's all just some misunderstanding and he's still in love with Kyle. He frowned at the stairs, feeling a sigh crawling up his throat—or maybe that was a sob getting ready to surface. He swallowed hard. No, I can't believe it. I won't. He wouldn't do such a thing. Right? Would he?

  While stepping outside, he nearly collided with a student walking in. He whispered a halfhearted apology and resumed his trudge toward his dorm, feeling the weight of everything on his shoulders. He sank forward. He let his shoulders lead the way, only glancing up every few seconds to make sure he wasn't about to accidentally headbutt someone on his path.

  He walked slowly into his dorm, took the stairs, and wandered into his room. Donovan still hadn't come back. Although the bed was made and the books were undisturbed, he felt a sense of violation. He felt like somebody had been in his space, moving his things, messing up his life.

  He collapsed into his bed. Well, I have till noon to think on this. Then, I have to get to class. Then, I have swim practice. He sighed. How am I going to make it through today?

  He stared at the ceiling. On the surface, nothing had really changed. He didn't have his shoes, but he still had a sense of who he was and how he would handle things. But it was difficult for him to understand what was happening. Caleb hadn't replied to any of the texts from Kyle—that was apparent—but what if they had been talking? What if Caleb was keeping some things to himself?

  Caleb's voice circled through Randall's mind, flashing him back to the cab of his truck when they were on their way to the woods. Some things are better left unsaid.

  Randall considered the phrase. It had never occurred to him that Caleb would lie. Withhold some information, sure, but not lie outright. It wasn't like Caleb to do that.

  But if I didn't know about this, then what else don't I know? His suspicions grew like rot growing on the outside of a tree. As his face darkened, so did his heart. What else is he keeping from me?

  Chapter Ten

  Caleb

  “Well, that was something.”

  Caleb came up to his door and sighed, knowing that the nausea from his test was about to subside as soon as he walked inside. He turned the knob and prepared himself for the amount of affection he was about to receive.

  But instead of finding Randall, he found Harrison.

  Harrison perked up. “What's up, dude? You hiding guys in here now?”

  Caleb blinked. “What?”

  “That guy, Randall? He was in here when I got back. I thought you said you didn't do rebounds?”

  “I don't do rebounds. That guy is definitely not a rebound.”

  Harrison raised an eyebrow in Caleb's direction. “Uh huh, sure. And on the weekends, I'm the President of the United States.”

  “I don't think you're that dumb.”

  “Oh, come on! It's just a joke, dude. The guy seemed nice.”

  “The guy's name is Randall.”

  “Right, of course,” Harrison tossed a basketball in the air, spinning it around on his finger. “So, did you put a good word in for me on the team?”

  Caleb laughed. “Still on about that, I see.”

  “I'll never quit.”

  “Well, at least you're determined. Do you have any idea where Randall went off to?”

  “Nah, he just bailed when I got here. I think I made him nervous.”

  “You can be off-putting sometimes, Harrison.”

  Harrison shrugged. “I have weird energy. What can I say?”

  “At least you own it.”

  Caleb patted his pockets. As he searched his bedside table for his phone, he heard it buzz. It was on the bed next to his pillow. He held it triumphantly in his hands and scrolled through all his missed messages—there were a ton.

  “Oh! Hey, a packet came in while you were out. I put it on your desk. It says it's from Colorado.”

  “Colorado?” Caleb dropped his bag on his bed and swept the packet off the table, holding it up to the light. He smiled wide. “Oh, it's finally here!”

  “What's finally here?”

  “A... thing.”

  Harrison laughed. “So, we're keeping secrets now, eh?”

  “Hey, dorm roommate rules apply; I don't have to tell you anything about my life if I don't want to.”

  “I didn't know there were rules.”

  “It's in our roommate contract, remember?”

  Harrison laughed. “You know I don't sign things. You also missed our meeting last night.”

  “Oh, shit, I'm sorry, dude.”

  “No big—not like I make it to many of those much.”

  Caleb looked surprised. “Did you come down with a fever? You're not acting like your usual self.”

  “You know I don't get sick.”

  Caleb stared for a moment longer and then turned his attention back to the packet. He peeled open the top and popped out the envelope, holding it as if it were a gold brick that he had found in the ocean. He ran his thumb over the edge of the stack, making it flip like a book. “Damn, I can't believe it.”

  “What is that?”

  “It's...acceptance papers. From a university in Colorado. I applied to it months ago thinking I wouldn't really get in, but they must have noticed me.”

 

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