Page 87 of Campus Fake

Bryce nudged my shoulder. “I approve, for what it’s worth.”

I laughed through my tears but couldn’t look away from Harry. I knew that broken look on his face, the fear that was burrowing into his features. It had been on mine whenever I’d looked in the mirror right after Bryce died. The look of someone who was bargaining with the universe for a miracle they weren’t sure they deserved.

“You have to go back,” Bryce whispered. “It’s not your time and you’ve made your choice.”

I turned to him one more time and memorized every detail I could take in—the fraying hoodie, his too-long hair, and my favorite, the grin that could talk anyone into anything.

“I love you,” I said.

“Love you too, Ladybug.” He chucked my chin. “Now go.”

I hugged my brother once more, and then closed my eyes.

FORTY-ONE

Sam hadn’t moved in two days.

Forty-eight hours of torture and terror. There was still nothing wrong that they could identify, but she just wouldn’t wake up.

The nurses had stopped asking me to leave when visitor hours officially ended. One of the older ones who worked nights, Denise, brought me an extra pillow without being asked. The day nurse, Carla, had a recliner brought into the room that lay flat so it could be used as a bed. But sleep had been hard to come by. Sleeping required your body to relax, and mine was strained so taut with stress and worry there was no chance of relaxing.

Foster had brought me a bag of clothes and food. The guys seemed to be rotating on who was on food duty, but every meal was delivered like clockwork, and someone was always there to make sure I actually ate it.

I spent the time talking to her, even though I wasn’t sure she could hear me. I told her about Pop’s ranch and the summer I’d learned to cook. I told her about the first game I’d played at CFU, how the arena had been half-empty and I’d let in three goals but still felt freer than I ever had in my life. I told her I loved her. I said it so many times, hoping each time would be the one when she’d open her eyes and I’d hear her say it back again.

But she didn’t move.

The monitor kept beeping and the IV dripped.

And Sam stayed still.

I leaned forward in the recliner, elbows on my knees, her hand cradled between both of mine. My thumbs traced slow circles on the back of her hand the way I’d been doing for two days, mapping the ridges of her knuckles like I was trying to memorize them.

“You know what I keep thinking about?” My voice was rough. I’d stopped caring about how wrecked I sounded. “Do you remember that night at the house when you walked in on us singing to Rory? She’d been crying nonstop and Liam came up with this stupid idea that she was a girl and would like music and being sung to, so we gave it a shot.” A smile pulled at my lips at the memory. “Liam did some kind of folk-rap lullaby if I recall correctly, and the only nursery rhyme I knew was “Twinkle, Twinkle” but I couldn’t remember the rest of the words and just kept repeating that over and over. And then we looked up and you were standing in the doorway in that little black dress and matching high heels.” I huffed a laugh. “God, you have no idea how hard I had to fight my body’s reaction when I caught sight of you. And then you made fun of my pajamas.” I ducked my head, the memory making me smile but also bittersweet while she was still in a coma. “I loved it when you razzed me about stuff. But then I said good night and went upstairs because staying in that room with you looking at me like that would’ve undone me.”

I pressed my forehead against our joined hands. “But I looked back. Halfway up the stairs, I couldn’t help myself, and God, your ass in that dress was a sight to behold.” I exhaled. “You have no idea how many nights I debated just kissing you to see what it was like. I tried to convince myself it wouldn’t be as good as the fantasy, but you are so much better than any fantasy.”

I swallowed. “There was never going to be anyone else for me. I could’ve waited another year, another five years—it wouldn’t have mattered. It was always going to be you.”

I lifted my head and looked at her face. Her color was better today, but her hair was still a tangled mess, and I had no doubt she’d be furious about it when she woke up.

Not if, but when. Because she had to wake up.

“I need you to fight, Sam.” My voice cracked on her name. I’d said this before. Every day, multiple times. I’d tried coaxing her stubbornness. Told her I’d let her pick every movie for a month. Told her I’d make her those lemon bars she loved whenever she wanted. Tried every angle I could think of because I was desperate. “I need you to come back to me. Please.”

I closed my eyes and dropped my head to her hands. “I’d give anything to go back to that night and not waste any time. I’d tell you how fucking gorgeous you were and how in love I was with you, and we would’ve had more time together. I need more time, Sam.”

Her hand moved.

My head snapped up, my eyes wide and locked on her face.

Her eyelids fluttered and her brow creased as she winced, like the room was too bright. Then her lips parted and a small, cracked sound came out that was barely a whisper.

“I knew you were checking out my ass that night.”

A mix between a laugh and a sob escaped my mouth. Tears blurred my vision as I brought her hand to my mouth, pressing my lips against her knuckles. Then I was standing, leaning over her, cupping her neck and resting my forehead against hers.

“Sam.” Her name came out wrecked. “Sam, fuck, baby, please never scare me like that again.”