Strike (Cake) [Completed] (#Wattys2017)

2: Not My Type

                 

Classes started at 10:30 on Wednesday, but Calum was up at seven. He had nothing planned for the morning. He could call Peter, but they had team practice later that day, so maybe morning practice would be overkill. He could play some bass...he looked over and saw that his roommate had still not returned. He wouldn't be disturbing anyone, but...eh.

            He sat up and tucked his knees into his chest. What to do...

            He picked up his phone. He checked all his social media, finishing with Facebook, that blue app that was becoming more and more obsolete. He scrolled past Vines and Buzzfeed posts, squinted when spoilers for The Walking Dead were on and chuckled at a backwardly depressing line from BoJack Horseman. It was one of his favorite shows, chock full of idiotic puns and witty dialogue that really hit you hard sometimes. He clicked on the page, just to review a bit. There was the line about the kaleidoscope; the rose-colored glasses; society and Hungry, Hungry Hippos. The one about...oh.

You gotta get your shit together. So yesterday you let yourself fall in love a little bit... Serves you right for having feelings!

He felt his neck get hot.

"Goodbye, Facebook," he said, but found himself hitting the search bar anyway. He typed in Luke Hem—then backspaced and typed in Lucas Hemmings. He was the second suggestion. One thing about Facebook was it had that way of worming into every aspect of your life, and even if you didn't tell it where you lived or what school you went to, and even if you had zero mutual friends with a person, it would still find them immediately.

Calum clicked on the profile. There wasn't a whole lot to see. Luke's profile picture was simply him, standing on the sidewalk. Another guy with curly hair and a black hat had his arm slung over his shoulders. A good picture but not particularly—

Calum had a sudden thought. Was that Luke's boyfriend? Or just a friend? Or maybe Luke had a girlfriend. Maybe Luke's girlfriend was taking the picture. Or, Jesus, what if Luke was married?

Or maybe he needed to stop fucking thinking about it because it didn't matter. Why did he care?

He closed Facebook. But he opened up Instagram one more time and found Luke again. He clicked on the name. Private.

"Seriously?"

Calum hated private users. He knew that it was "safe" and it was good for "keeping out the creeps" but it was still annoying. You had to ask to be their friend, as if they were some thing that had to be fought for and won. Please, sir, may I be your friend? Am I worthy? Gross.

He rolled his eyes and shut down the app. He turned off his phone and rested his chin on his hands. So annoying. And yet he wished he could hit the request follow button and not seem super weird.

He drummed his fingers a bit, then decided to get up and get dressed. He would go for a run.

He kept thinking about Luke as Good Charlotte played through his earbuds and he chased the pavement. After getting over the groggy angst of morning, he was back on that high from yesterday again. Or maybe it was the exercise endorphins. Either way, he wished he had debate again today. He was actually getting excited for the class. Well, maybe he was just excited because he was a hundred percent sure he'd be able to stay in football. Yeah, that must be it. He'd be out on the field in spring. He picked up the pace a bit and rounded a corner.

            It was a gorgeous day. The sun was out and the sky looked like a painting, perfect cotton ball clouds speckling the blue. Things were great. He ran past the cafeteria, past the auditorium, past the music building. He ran up Capitol Road and passed eventually by H Building. He slowed a little, wondering if Luke was in his office now. Panic!'s "Miss Jackson" started to play and he skipped it for Clyro's "Black Chandelier." He continued on.