“Who,” he begins, but laughs. “It doesn't even matter. not like I know anyone.”

“Valid question, though. We’re going to Chantelle’s,  commonly known as Oyster.”

“Uh…” Cameron's puckered brows keep her going. 

“She’s like the wealthiest black girl on campus—well, biracial but identifies as black.”

“What’s the deal with the name?”

“The short and skinny? She’s Caribbean.”

“Oh?”

“Yup! Dad’s Chinese-Jamaican. Came here to become a doctor.  Met her mom, a black woman, in rotations. She has family in the West Indies, I think. Both of her parents are surgeons in different specialties now. Really cool people.”

“But what about Chantelle?”

“She can be a…” Jazmine teeters her head side to side as she tries to find the right word. “Let’s say, a polarizing figure. I’m going to refrain from stating anything so you can form your own opinion.”

“I can’t tell how to take your tone,” his eyes narrowing into a squint.

“Good. I don’t want to influence you one way or the other.” Because that girl is definitely not my cup of tea, she finishes to herself.

“That’s very kind of you.” 

Is it? Jazmine wonders. Personally, she kept the young woman at arm's length, but didn’t hate her. 

“Yeah, so I’ll pick you up around seven? Everyone is getting ready and pregaming at mine because I prefer to DD. You can even sleep over if need be. I remember how the RAs could be if you were super inebriated.”

“Oh.” 

His tone made her remember just how much they were strangers again. He does know he can say no, right? Fuck. I should’ve thought this through. If a man asked me this, I’d be running for the hills. She begins to regret asking him when he breaks out into an excited grin. 

“Sounds great.”

They both fall silent as another enters the stairwell, and the hush winds up following them to the lobby. It is surprisingly empty in the communal area, a singular RA watching a movie on their laptop. As they exited the building, it was the same; the only people out were clearly on their way to something. The solitude seems to give Cameron the courage to tug on her sleeve just before she makes her way down the steps.

“I…” Swallowing as she turns to him with curious eyes, the ginger nearly loses his muster. “I just wanted some clarification o-on what you said earlier. About, uh, finding me beautiful.”

Jazmine thought she hadn’t let anything slip earlier or made any comments that could have been taken as more than platonic interest. Right? Maybe that wasn’t what this was about. Not wanting to assume or make him more nervous, the artist moves to one of the picnic benches of the pathway. She can tell Cameron seems to breathe more easily as she sits. 

“You really don’t find it weird that I…like dressing super femininely, but don’t want to be a girl? It doesn’t disgust you…or make you feel embarrassed to be seen with me?”

“Cam.” Jazmine can’t help but tilt her head dramatically, “I just introduced you to my friend who's a drag queen.”

“Yeah, but that’s a performance for him. Nikki dresses up to entertain and to be a spectacle. And yeah, he might grab attention in his regular clothes since he’s, like, flaming gay, but it works for him. It’s something everyone gets categorically, whether they respect it or not. But I’m…I don’t have, I-I don’t fit that.” 

Between the slight tremor in his voice and the way he wraps his arms around his stomach—like it could stop him from spilling out—Jazmine knows she needs to tread carefully. She’d never considered just how delicate a topic his appearance would be. 

“Hey,” she calls out softly as Cameron tries to hide his sniffing. 

His eyes are silver with unshed tears as they dart her way. Oh no. 

“Come ‘ere.” The sophomore shuffles a little closer, careful to keep his head down, much to her dismay. “Can I?” she asks, reaching for one of his hands but politely stopping just before they touch. 

He doesn’t object, his head coming down in a short, stiff nod. His skin is cooler than she expected, his  French manicure clicking briefly as she draws the hand into hers. 

“At the end of the day, you gotta live a life you’re happy with. You can’t live it worrying about if me or someone else is okay with it, because we’re not the ones living in your skin,” her voice firm, but not unkind. “It’s good to be thoughtful and considerate, but if I were an asshole who did find your style weird, you shouldn’t be keeping company to begin with. Or anyone that makes you that self-conscious.”

“And you aren’t one,” Cameron whispers so low she almost missed it. 

“I’d like to think so.”

Cameron's eyes drift to the ground as he nods slightly, and Jazmine couldn’t stop herself from lightly grabbing his chin. She didn’t put much pressure, just enough to nudge him back up, waiting until his watery gaze met hers. 

“One day you’ll be surrounded by people who make you feel right at home, and whatever hurt you will feel so far away.” 

“I hate that I really believe it when you say that,”the ginger sniffs/

“There’s nothing wrong about hoping.”

“It usually doesn’t get me anywhere.”

“It brought you here, didn’t it?” she countered with a gentle grin. 

His responding snort and eye roll are quite sassy, and goodness did she like; really, really, like it. And with that weird tingling in her gut, she lowers her hand, leaning back a little. Cameron tracks the descent briefly before letting out a huge sigh. 

“You’re one of those ‘all things work together’ type of people.”

“Can’t help it,” Jazmine drawls, tossing her hands up innocently. “Romans, eight-twenty-eight, was a very popular scripture in my house growing up.”

At the word Christian, Cameron’s eyes went wide as saucers. “Really?”

“Mhmm.” Fighting back the faint memories rising to the surface, Jazmine tilts her head up to the night sky. The sky wasn’t clear, but she could see enough stars to center herself. 

“A lot of things rubbed me the wrong way, but…that one…that one I held onto as tight as I could. I know how it may sound, but I really believe that something shifts in our lives when we, for lack of better words, turn shit into fertilizer and weeds into cherished gardens. Why does our story have to stop at the suffering, when there is so much more?”

Jazmine took a huge breath, waiting for the ginger to say something, but he never did. Nervously, the junior looks back at Cameron to see him wiping tears away. 

“I’m sorry if that–”

“No. No, that was…that was really good. Th-thank you,” his lips twisted bittersweetly.

Before Jazmine could even think about it, “Would you like a hug?” fell from her lips and climbed in the space between them in the form of fog. As it dissipates, she finds him stepping closer.

“…mhmm.”

The junior is glad she can hold him this time as he sniffles. Earlier, he’d looked so…choked. Even as he seems to calm by the second, he feels so small in her arms that she didn’t fight the urge to hold him tighter. Thankfully, the pressure relaxes him further, the tension in his body oozing out faster. 

Part of her worried that he might be trusting her, a practical stranger, all too quickly. But another, even larger part was glad he’d had because Jazmine knew she wouldn’t take advantage of his vulnerability. Perhaps this is what happened at his last school; someone noticed just how sweet and unsure Cameron was, Jazmine muses to herself as the ginger squeezes her back.

The junior knew she’d have to be careful with the boy in her arms. The last thing he needed was…whatever the nagging pressure in her chest was to kiss his forehead and insist on staying. Something about him called to her, but she didn’t know if it’d be best to answer. The last thing he needed was a suitor when he clearly craved a friend. 

So she doesn’t let herself press her lips to his freckled skin, nor let her fingers linger as they pull away from each other. She didn’t brush his stray curls back behind his ear or continue to stand close as he looked at her with glittering eyes. She didn’t have any permission to do any of those things; Cameron wasn’t hers.

No, Jazmine pats his shoulder lightly, as she would with many of her guy friends, her smile quick but genuine. 

“Better?”

“Yes. Thank y—“

“Don’t thank me for showing concern. We’re all worth that.”

Jazmine can’t pinpoint what exactly in his rosy cheeked expression made her stomach flutter, but she is beyond grateful as her phone’s buzzing interrupts as he opens his mouth. Jazmine is unsurprised as she takes out her phone to a steady stream of texts from an all too familiar group chat. 

“I’m sorry. I really have to go. They’re getting antsy.”

“Don’t apologize. Just, ah, j-just text me when you get home.”

“Will do. See you, Sunshine.”

“See ya.”