"Princeton?"

"Nope."

"Yale?"

"Nope."

"Stanford?"

I slowly slid my index finger beneath the closed envelope, feeling Ray's intense stare burning into the side of my head.

"Yes." I stumbled away from the lunch table, the acceptance letter falling from my grip and on to my backpack. "Ray, I got in!" I cried, throwing my arms around him. Everyone in the cafeteria seemed to glance in our direction at my sudden outburst, watching me completely lose it in Ray's arms.

"I. . . I can't believe it! I didn't think. . ." I shook my head, backing away from Ray and nodding at the rest of the table as they laughed and congratulated me.

"You should of, Blake. You're amazing and smart, they'd be idiots to reject you." He replied, hugging me once more as the bell echoed through the semi-quiet lunchroom. I was still in too much shock to force out a complete sentence, so I only smiled and gathered my rejection and acceptance letters into my backpack, shoving my lunch tray into the trash on my way out.

My smile faded slowly as I followed Ray out of the lunchroom, unwanted thoughts bringing my happiness down until it was gone entirely.

None of those congratulations really meant anything to me, sure they were kind and a nice gesture, but they weren't from the one person I wanted to say it the most. The one person who hadn't showed up to school today and wouldn't answer any of my calls. The one person who was acting as if they'd dropped off the face of the Earth once again.

*

"Mom!" I called out, tossing my backpack on to the couch, "I'm home!"

I headed for the kitchen, waiting for a response that never came.

Where the hell was she? She had been in and out of the house since James came back, almost as if she didn't want to be here.

She would have told me if something was going on, right?

"Well, she didn't tell you about Brianna or your father being back in town, so why would she?" I muttered to myself, ripping a bottle of water from the bottom drawer of my fridge.

I let out a yelp when I lifted my head back up to meet a broad chest, a familiar washed out band shirt stretched out across it.

"You scared the crap out of me, Cammy." I slapped his chest playfully, shutting my fridge door before lifting my head to look at him.

But the boy I saw standing in front of me wasn't my Cam. His eyes were bloodshot and dilated, his eyes shooting up and down my body, as if he were peeling off my clothes with his eyes.

"What have you been drinking?" I asked, touching his cheek with the back of my hand. He shrugged, blinking a few times before he responded.

"Dunno. I found it in the kitchen. Downed the entire bottle throughout the day." He whispered, his eyes fluttering shut under my touch.

"Cam-"

"No lectures." He grumbled, "I don't want to talk to my mother right now, Blake. I want to talk to my girlfriend." I dropped my hand to my side.

"We never established the whole-"

"What? Are you having second thoughts about being my girlfriend now?" His eyes will still shut, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

"No, no." I ran my hand up his chest until it was resting on his shoulder, "You know I love you, Cam. It's just. . . I don't know if I like the label." He started to move forward, his eyes half open and narrowed as I backed into the kitchen.

He backed me into the kitchen sink, his hands gripping it on either side of me so I was trapped.

"Yeah? Because being called my girlfriend would be so bad, right?" He breathed out in a low growl that rumbled through his chest. I blinked, surprised by his sudden anger.

"Cameron, back up. You're drunk and-"

"I poured my fucking heart out to you, told you that I was in love with you, and you are refusing to allow me to tell everyone you're my girlfriend? Why? Is it because of that dipshit in the hospital?" He pressed himself even closer, the warmth of his body radiating off of him.

"Cameron." I pushed my hand against his chest, forcing him to look me in the eyes, "Stop."

"Tell me why." He demanded.

"No." I tried to duck under his arm, but he pushed me back against the sink again.

"Blake, tell me." He brought one of his hands under my chin and tilted it up so I was staring at him again.

"Let me go, Cameron." I hissed through my teeth. I saw anger flash in his dilated eyes again.

"God Dammit, Blake! Just tell me why!"

"Because I'm fucking scared, Cameron! I'm scared that I'm just going to end up alone at the end of this, all right? I'm scared we'll become my parents!" I shouted, feeling Cam wince under my hand.

We stood there for a moment, our eyes burning into one another, before he stepped forward and crushed his lips against mine.

He pried his hands from the counter and buried them in my hair, pulling away long enough to whisper in my ear.

"I love you, Blake." He kissed me again, "I'm not going to leave, I promise."

As he kissed me again, I shook my head, refusing to kiss back this time.

"I heard that before, Cam. And every time I need you, every time I turn around, you're gone, not answering my calls. You won't let me know you're okay." He slid his hands under my thighs and hoisted me on to the counter so I was staring down at him, his lips parted in surprise.

"I've got issues going on right now, Blake. I've go-"

"No, Cam. I don't want your crap excuses. I've got shit going on right now too, but you don't see me pushing everyone away, turning my phone off so my friends and boyfriend can't see if I'm okay, do you?" He stepped back, recoiling against the stove, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I just found out my mom's pregnant with my loser father's baby, that I have an older sister I was never told about, and that I can't get into a college without my best friend giving me his scholarship. I'm going through a lot of shit right now, Cameron. All I want is my best friend right now, my boyfriend. I don't want lies, excuses, petty problems. I want you." He dropped his gaze to the tile, his head shaking slowly.

He was saved by the sound of my front door shutting loudly and footsteps nearing the kitchen.

Mom and James appeared beside the fridge, my mom dressed in something far too casual for work.

"Is everything okay in here?" James questioned, looking back and forth between the two of us.

"It's not your business any way you look at it." I snapped. Mom was shaking her head, her hand resting on her stomach. I nearly heaved my lunch into the sink when I saw that her baby bump had begun to show.

"Blake, it's disrespectful talking to your father-"

"It's disrespectful to leave your two year old and unborn child alone and helpless. It's disrespectful to reappear in your daughters life seventeen, almost eighteen, years later. A lot of things are disrespectful, Mom, it doesn't change anything now, does it?" I don't know where the bitterness came from, and the second I saw tears pooling in my mom's eyes, I felt guilty.

"Why didn't you tell me about Brianna?" I whispered when nobody said anything. That was Mom's breaking point. She whirled around and disappeared out of the room before anyone could say anything else.

The guilt spreading through my chest vanished when James stepped forward and yanked me down from the counter.

"Apologize to your mother." He said, his lips curling back.

"Like I'd listen to you." I muttered.

"Excuse me? I'm your father, Blake." I snorted, cocking my head to the side.

"Is that so? Okay, Dad, what's my favorite color? My favorite movie? My favorite band? Favorite genre of music?" I questioned, crossing my arms over my chest. He stared at me blankly, and for a second, I thought I saw guilt in his own eyes, but it was gone too soon to be able to tell if it was really there.

"Blue, because it reminds your eighth birthday party." Cam started, stepping forward, "Titanic because you're a hopeless romantic. Nirvana for some unknown and probably ridiculous reason. Your favorite genre depends on your mood. Sometimes you tend to lean more toward pop punk or just pop, other times you blare rock or metal." I could feel a hint of a smile appearing on my face.

"I know things about you." James stuttered for a moment. I made a gesture for him to go on.

"You're favorite song is. . . is. . ."

"I Will Always Love You by Whitney Huston because her mother told her that it was your favorite song growing up." Cam picked up where my father trailed off, his eyes burning into James'.

"She's also terrible at sports, hates the color yellow, can force milk out of her nose, and can say hello in eight different languages." I looked at Cam through my eyelashes, a smile finally breaking out across my face.

"And sometimes she pretends like everything's okay when she's dying on the inside." Cam finished with a sigh, "So tell me, James, how much do you really know about your daughter?"

James opened and closed his mouth multiple times before shaking his head and storming out of the room. I waited until I heard a door shut to lean against the fridge and turn my attention to my best friend.

"I didn't know you remembered those things." I said.

"Of course I do, Blake. And I'm sorry, you're right. I should be more open, let you in on everything." He walked over and took my hands in his.

"I'm sorry, too. I don't know what came over me. I didn't mean to lash out on you or Mom. James? I don't really care." He laughed.

"So, what's my favorite color, Blake?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Brown, because you're a weirdo." I poked his stomach before standing on my tippy toes and pulling his face closer to mine.

"Can I tell you something?" he whispered.

"Yeah."

"I didn't give you my scholarship, Blake." He smiled, "You did it. You got in all by yourself. We're going to Stanford together."

***AN***

Hope you guys enjoyed! 

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~ChasingMadness24