I stared at the indention in the bed covers Cameron left on the bed for a few pensive moments, the sound of the shower running, as memories circled back into my mind. From prom to baseball games and to those little moments we shared in the halls, moments with Cameron had been nothing but positive. I couldn't remember having a bad experience with him around. 

I couldn't imagine everything was positive from Cameron's perspective, especially in the end. What had I ever done for him besides dragging him down?

The fact that he'd cling to those happy memories of us at prom made other memories resurface. 

Even showering couldn't wipe away the memories he had dug up earlier. I spent longer than normal, letting the warm water cascade down my back, mindlessly staring into the bathroom mirror, hoping answers to nonexistent questions formed in my head. I didn't have anything to ask, nor did I really know what I needed, aside from the obvious luck of getting through tomorrow and the rest of the weekend with Cameron. 

As I set my old clothes into a corner of my suitcase, I looked over to see Cameron engrossed in his phone, not so subtly trying to avoid looking at me. I pulled back the covers and turned off the lamp beside me, slipping into the cool sheets, hoping sleep would pull me under quickly to avoid further embarrassment.

I knew it was futile just as Cameron set his phone on the table between us.

"How're you feeling about tomorrow?" he said in the dark, fluffing the pillows behind him. "Nervous?"

"Less nervous and more guilty."

I imagined his face scrunching up. "Guilty?"

I gulped. "I think there are way more talented classmates that deserve to perform the solo piece. I don't think Alan should've given me this part just because it's my last year."

"Don't say that," he said, pulling the duvet to his chin like a child would. "What piece?"

"Dvořák's Romance in f minor. It's a relatively short piece, but I'm sure our first chair could play this way better. Kelly's super talented."

"So are you."

I huffed. "I don't know. My playing's been off for a while. It's been hard to focus, and it can be exhausting practicing daily."

When Cameron didn't say anything, I tried to lighten the mood. "Practicing baseball must be exhausting too. But you've always been way more athletic than me."

He hummed. "I won't say the drills are easy, but our team has been super lucky this season. Only a couple of losses and a few errors, but I think it's mainly because our lineup is all close. We've done team bonding things, and there's not as much drama as when we were in high school."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Why?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Just figured a bunch of college kids have much more freedom to get into trouble, drink alcohol, party, date around, etc."

Cameron scoffed. "Ouch, so little faith in me."

"You know what I mean," I mused, rolling my eyes. I doubted Cameron did so much as jaywalking. "You're too good, Cam. You could tell me you haven't drunk a sip of alcohol in college, and I'd believe you—assuming you haven't mistaken it for punch."

There was a pregnant pause before he said, "Ha. Very funny. Nice of you to assume that I'd be smarter about smelling vats of liquids."

"So, you have accidentally chugged more alcohol."

He hummed. "I plead the fifth, Eth."

Only then did I realize how easy it was to fall back into our silly banter, attaching nicknames like second nature. Just another little thing I had missed since our time apart. 

Though I had a reason, I didn't know what I was thinking of letting this go. He was easily the best thing that ever happened to me, and I tore it all up. Telling him my stupid reason felt trivial—especially when I knew what kind of person Cameron was. If breaking up with him hadn't made him furious, what made me think telling him about my mental breakdown would've deterred Cameron? 

"I actually have extra tickets if you'd like to come," Cameron said hesitantly, fiddling with the comforter. "To the game, I mean. Coach likes to give us vouchers for us to give family members or partners to attend the games. You know how my parents feel about traveling, so you're welcome to attend. It's great seats too. Right above our dugout near third base."

I didn't see how that was a great seat, considering that my view of the field was most likely limited until it dawned on me. Cameron was a third baseman; I'd have a clear shot of where he'd be. 

He cleared his throat. "Obviously, I get you'll likely be tired from your concert, and it might be a bit hot in the afternoon during the game. Or you may have plans with your peers—which I probably should have considered first—but it's fine if you don't want to go."

Though his words trailed off, the offer seemed to echo in the small room. 

"Why not?" I finally replied. I owed him that much—no, I owed Cameron a lot more than just attending a game.

He sucked in a breath. "You'll go?"

"Sure, though I can't promise I'll know what's really going on," I teased. 

Cameron laughed. "Hey, at least I'm not playing football. That's way more confusing."

"Fair," I said. "They're basically asking for a concussion."

"Well, injuries happen a lot in baseball too. Mostly arm or leg injuries, but concussions aren't out of the question either."

I hummed. "So what you're saying is I should bring a first aid kit?"

"Yes," he went along with the joke. "Bring a bag of ice in case I get whacked in the head too."

"Will do."

Cameron adjusted his position again, lowering his head into the pillow.

"If you really want to come, the showcase is at five," I said slowly, staring at the ceiling. The bedsheets rustled, most likely Cameron whipping his head like I had grown an extra head. "I believe the tickets are fifteen dollars."

"Really?"

"Don't expect much out of it. It's not a full orchestral concert, nor is it that long. That, and my playing—"

"I can really go?"

His bright round eyes peering through the dark hotel room reminded me of Cameron's family dog begging for scraps at the table. I imagined a wagging tail behind Cameron. That saying that a dog's owner looks exactly like their pet really was true in this case. "You really want to?"

"Of course," he said almost too quickly. "That is if you really don't mind."

"Like old times," I whispered. "Us going to each other's events when we literally have no idea how either activity works."

His breathy laugh filled the air. "Shall we get McDonald's after? We could Uber Eats it."

"Maybe," I said. He made a disappointed noise. "Isn't the delivery fees ridiculous?"

"Nothing's ridiculous if it means following our silly old tradition."

"Okay," I said. "Hopefully, their machines aren't down."

"They better not, or I will riot."

I grinned. "I don't doubt it."

The room went silent, and yet, it didn't feel awkward at all. It was a comfortable silence I had missed.

"I was thinking of hitting up that restaurant downstairs for brunch. They open at 10:30. The team said they'd rather eat somewhere else, but their brunch menu looks delicious," he said. "You're welcome to join me."

"Sure."

"Oh," he said. "I didn't expect you to agree so fast."

I refrained from laughing. "I thought you knew me; brunch food is my favorite."

"Of course, I knew that. So brunch?"

"Brunch."

"Okay," he said, amusement clear in his tone. "Good night, Eth."

"Night, Cam."

Cameron ordered a couple of appetizers, including a hefty plate of wings, but I went with a personal favorite, French toast. The strawberries were impeccably fresh, and I couldn't help but take a quick photo because of his perfect the dish looked. 

The price seemed a bit steep, but I understood why now. 

The taste was far beyond what I expected from a restaurant underneath a hotel, far exceeding any places my classmates wanted to go to. 

Cameron was quick to devour the wings, along with the bread and soup. Either the pizza really didn't fill him up last night, or it was true what they said about an athlete's insatiable appetite. Even the waiter seemed shocked by how many dishes he ordered. 

"I've been curious, but do they know about you?"

"That I'm gay?"

I nodded.

He tilted his head, swirling his spoon in the soup. "The PR team and coach know. I told them first thing freshman year in case it became an issue. But I haven't hidden it from anyone. If they ask, I'd tell them. Our captain, Kenji, knows, and I'm sure Eric knows. He's openly bisexual."

"Sorry if that was too personal to ask."

Cameron shook his head, nearly knocking his glass of water to raise his hand. "No, it's fine. It's only fair that you've been curious about me as much as I have been about you. Especially since I pressured you into rooming with me."

"I don't know about pressure," I said. "It was a generous offer. Much better than sleeping on the floor or in another building."

"Or that small loveseat in the room. Can't imagine your neck would appreciate that."

"Yeah, not good when I have a concert tonight."

Cameron gulped his water. "I guess I could have offered the room to you and sacrificed my neck for a teammate's loveseat."

"Playing a champion game would require a better night's rest than a musician."

He hummed. "I don't know. Your chin has to be at that certain angle for your violin. At least with Baseball, I just have to look ahead or up."

"Agree to disagree, then."

"Sure," he mused. 

"Does your team know?" I set my fork down after eating two-thirds of the dish, chancing a look at his face. "About us?"

He tilted his head. "No, but I think Kenji suspected something in the lobby. I said we were close friends, but Kenji gave me a confused look. He didn't say anything though."

"Oh."

"Kenji's a good guy," he said. "He won't start rumors, and he's someone everyone can trust and go to for advice. If he suspected anything, it wouldn't make a difference. He was the first one I told, before coach—which coach was peeved about. But Kenji watches out for all of us. If anything, he'd probably worry that I'm too loud and obnoxious for you."

I shrugged. "Only a couple of times."

He leaned forward in his seat, pointing his spoon in my direction. "Ouch."

"It's great to hear," I said. "That the teams supportive, even if you aren't out to everyone."

"Definitely. We wear rainbow socks for practice during the school's pride week and host a few fundraisers with the other sports teams on campus. Most of us went to last year's pride parade to support Eric. He brought his girlfriend, and we all wore different flag colors."

"That's amazing."

He nodded. "Way more exciting than anything we did for pride week in high school. It's nice to know I don't have to hide a part of myself if I want. Nor would I have to out myself in front of everyone. Our PR is good at finding the balance and keeping rumors and nasty comments away from our hands."

I smiled, remembering how dodgy high school staff had been around sexuality. Half were very supportive, decorating their classes with anything rainbow and making it quite literally a safe place. Then the other, usually older teachers that didn't seem to get it, often made side comments that were mostly unintentional but still very harmful. It was why, despite most of the student body knowing about Cameron and me dating, there was still a level of hiding a part of who we were. On top of the side comments about my race, I had to worry about whether a teacher would catch us and call either of our parents. 

"I'm happy for you," I said, pushing those memories down. "Really."

He smiled, grabbed the check from the waiter, and slipped his card in before I could argue.

"I'll Venmo you my portion."

"My treat."

I glared at him. "Fine."

He laughed, picking at the last bread until the waiter returned. Not wanting to hold up the line, we continued our conversation outside. "Well, I probably should let you get ready for the concert; probably got to rehearse beforehand?"

I nodded. "Sadly."

He smiled. "I can't wait. I'll see you there."

"Thanks," I said, placing my hand along his wrist. His eyes widened at the action. "I think I needed this. Not just the brunch or the hotel room. Just..."

My words failed, but Cameron seemed to get the memo. "You don't have to thank me. I should be thanking you."

"Well," I drawled. "I should get going. See you later."

"Okay," he breathed. "You got this, Eth."

God, I really hope I did.