Growing up in this small town, sometimes it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Like they’re the great big world, and we don’t have to deal with the same things. It makes ignorance run rampant. We’re all guilty of it, and no wonder Camden doesn’t feel safe being himself, even though he’s great.

I want them all to shut their fucking mouths and think before they speak. Think about how they could be hurting someone—Camden—or anyone else.

But unfortunately, sometimes I’m just a big-ass dumb jock, and I’m pretty sure I just made it worse.

I hate that feeling, and I don’t think it’s going to go away anytime soon.

18. Camden

EIGHTEEN

CAMDEN

Goddammit, Kingston.

“What the hell was that about?” I ask as we make our way out to the parking lot. My heart is racing, and I think I might get sick. The way their eyes were on us.

Fuck!

“What do you mean?” He turns to me, looking confused.

How can he be confused when he was talking about people being gay in the middle of the goddamn locker-room? Like he was some sort of savior? When I wanted to be anywhere else.

I keep my voice low as we approach our vehicles. “I mean, what the hell was that?” I point back at the gym. “Why were you talking about anyone being gay?”

“Because they were making it sound like a joke. It’s not a joke.”

I want to soften my tone. I know he means well, but that can’t happen. “That’s what they do.”

His eyes narrow at me, and oh my God, Kingston is actually pissed at me. “That doesn’t make it right.”

I point to my chest. “Of course it doesn’t, but that doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.” He raises his voice, looking at me like I’m the crazy one. “It matters. You matter.”

My heart does a flip, and I have to actually fight a smile because I know how much he cares. I can see it, and I can feel it. “It’s a losing battle, Kingston. You know that. You can’t start lecturing the Kensley football team, thinking you’re going to change the world.”

“We can change our part of the world.” He says this with indignance. So damn sure.

My shoulders droop, and that tired feeling comes back with a vengeance. “No, we can’t. They’re never going to change. They’re never going to see what they say is wrong. They grew up that way. They heard it their whole lives. Nothing is going to change.”

“Not if we don’t say something.” His voice is still loud and full of passion, and I hate the way I cringe, my eyes sweeping the parking lot to make sure no one else is listening.