But that wasn’t the worse part of spotting him. Most times he would see me, and if our gazes collided, he always looked away. It was like we hadn’t been friends for almost five months or that we hadn’t shared any intimate moments. It was like we didn’t even know each other.

It reminded me of how things had become with my friends in high school after the Halloween party.  As if our time together had been erased.

On Friday, a small opening occurred. Cam was alone, crossing the main street, heading toward Knutti, his head down and hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Cam!” I yelled his name so suddenly that it caused a rather pathetic sounding coughing fit that was leftover from my cold.

He stopped, lifting his chin. Wisps of dark hair curled out from under the knit cap he wore.

I struggled up the rest of the hill, chest and legs aching. Out of breath, I stopped in front of him. “Sorry,” I croaked out, taking several deep breaths. “Need a second.”

His brows knitted. “You sound terrible.”

“Yeah, it’s the Black Death and it never goes away.” I cleared my throat, forcing my eyes to meet his. For a moment, as I stared into those crystalline eyes, I forgot why I had forced him to stop.

Something crossed his face and then he averted his gaze, a muscle thumping in his jaw. “I’ve got to get to class, so…?”

Cam in a hurry to get to class? The apocalypse was about to occur. I fought the urge to just walk away at that point, because it was painfully obvious he had no interest in this conversation, but I stood my ground. I owed it to him.

“I just wanted to say thank you for helping Brit out when I was sick.”

His lips pursed as he focused on something beyond me. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It was to me,” I said quietly, wishing he’d look at me. “So thank you.”

Cam nodded curtly and then took a deep breath. His gaze flickered back to me and then away. His shoulders tensed. “You’re welcome.”

“Well…” I ran out of something to say because everything that came to mind shouldn’t be spoken. Like I’m sorry for being such a bitch. And I wish you hadn’t seen the scar.

“I’ve got to go,” he said finally, backing toward the side entrance of the building, where several students smoked. “I’ll see you around.”

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, my heart stuttering.

Cam turned around, eyes narrowed and it was like he was waiting for something, but then he shook his head. “Me too.”

I didn’t stop him again.