Page 100 of Most Valuable Player
“Morelli lowers the IQ of everyone within a mile radius,” Jody drawls with a sigh, to which Cameron hurls a snowball at him, cracking him right in the face.
“Hey,” I call out, wagging my finger at Jody while he curses and smears the snow off his face. “That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about.”
Jody grimaces at me. “I know, and I wake up confused about it every day.”
I laugh, then catch my own wrist to keep it from covering my smile. Sometimes I forget about the habit—it’s so ingrained within me that it’ll take a while to dig the instinct out. Though, I’ve been getting better about it. “He may be a big himbo jock, but he’smybig himbo jock,” I say, watching fondly as a full snow war ensues, in which Cameron begins to pelt every available teenage boy with snowballs aside from me.
I love seeing them like this. Cameron would attend game dinners or see his teammates at parties, but rarely did he ever just hang outwith them. He kept everyone at an arm’s length and made his personality just obnoxious enough that most of the guys didn’t bother trying to pursue deeper friendships with him, even if they liked his company.
He organized this event himself with some of the first-string players. Watching them all fool around and simply be together as friends…it’s nice. I’m happy that he’s happy. And I’m doing my best to be involved, and to reassure myself that my presence around them isn’t a burden. That they actually maybe like me. Even if I hate myself.
I’m not sure how much of it is intrinsic versus how much was hammered into me. But I’m living in spite of that. I’m letting myself enjoy things. I even have my watercolor paintings hanging on my wall, but only because Cameron pinned them for me. I’ve started advancing my guitar skills from video tutorials. I’m not great at any of these things, but Cameron’s constant insistence that I don’t need to be (even though he thinks I am) pushes me through the self-deprecation.
I love the way Cameron loves. I feel his devotion in how he caresses my arm when guiding me somewhere, or the way he strokes my hair when I’m using him as my pillow. Even when he’s terrorizing parties with “the boys,” he’s always ready to drop everything to kiss my head and warm me with his hugs. His zest for life is intoxicating—I want to join him in his unrestrained joy.
I’m not always successful. But I’m getting better.
I can’t give Cameron all the credit, even when he teasingly claims it since he’s the one who convinced me to pursue therapy. It’s been difficult to open up about everything I’ve been through, but being in a controlled, confidential environment with someone who doesn’t give me pitying looks makes me a bit more willing to talk.
I lean against the snow-scattered railing. The backyard is faintly illuminated beneath the golden light cascading over the porch. Flakes drift from the sky, lazy and unhurried, coating Cameron’s winter hat.
Mr.and Mrs.Morelli join us on the porch, and all the football players jog over to take up party blowers. They’ve placed a TV in the kitchen window so we can hear the announcers begin the sixty-second countdown to the New Year. Cameron slings an arm around my shoulder with a beaming grin, his cheeks flushed from the snowball fight, his damp hair matted down. I always get weak in the knees when I see him like this, all out of breath and riled up.
“Fifty-nine! Fifty-eight! Fifty-seven!”
The night is oddly quiet despite everyone’s cries. Cameron’s house is shrouded in trees that separate it from their neighbors, so it’s isolating but cozy. Safe.
“Thirty! Twenty-nine! Twenty-eight!”
Cameron pecks my temple with every number. He’s whispering them in my ear, his voice low and soothing. “Seventeen,” he whispers. “Sixteen. Fifteen.”
He’s probably going to kiss me in the most dramatic way possible. Despite his more authentic self shining through, he still likes showing off, and maybe it’s more endearing than I thought. Because I know he’s more than showmanship. He’s everything I didn’t know I needed.
He’s everything I didn’t know I deserved.
“Nine! Eight! Seven!”
I don’t know what the future will bring. The college application process is weeks away. We have one final semester before adulthood reels into the picture. We’re testing our compatibility, too—we’re extremely different people.
“Three! Two! One!”
But maybe that doesn’t matter. Because we can offer each other the things we want the most. Comfort. Support. Vulnerability.
“Happy New Year!”
Cameron is about to dip me at the waist, but I grab his jacket andhoist myself against him, then lock my arms around his neck and kiss him deeply while hoots of joy ricochet through the air alongside the incessant clangs of pots and pans. When I pull back, his eyes are wide and glistening with amazement. “I didn’t expect that from you,” he admits.
“Sometimes I can be bold and surprising, too,” I say with a cheeky smile.
He leans in, bumping his nose against mine. “Maybe you can show me that side of you more often.”
“Hmm…maybe. I’ll think about it. If you’re patient.”
He pinches my lower lip between his teeth, giving an experimental tug that reddens my cheeks. “I’ll wait an eternity,” he whispers. “If it means that one day, I can see every little piece of what makes you Mason Gray.”
I laugh despite the tears I’m growing accustomed to surfacing in my eyes. There’s nothing I can say that would be adequate.
So I kiss him once again, the world around us an incomprehensible blur.
