Will stops, his nostrils flare, and I notice his hands shaking; for a second I’m afraid for my life. “I don’t want just some girl!” he explodes. “I want Vivian!” When he realizes what he’s confessed, he crumbles into his chair again, leaving me shocked and standing alone.

“W-what?” I stutter. “You want to date Vivian?” I don’t know how to comprehend what he’s telling me. I’ve entered a soap opera, and I’m the main character in a love triangle. I’ve seen these stories; men like me always lose to the Wills of the story. He’s the funny guy, the one that would always do the right thing, even at his own expense. I wouldn’t want to compete against someone like him. The difference between the two of us: I may have the appearances that draw the girls in, but he has the personality that keeps them coming back.

“I don’t want to date her, Brooks; I’m in love with her.” Will is hiding his face in his hands, so his words are muffled, but I can still understand every damn word and it makes my stomach hurt to the point of throwing up. I feel the bile rise, and it burns the back of my throat. What the fuck is happening?

“What do you plan to do about it?” I ask him, taking my seat once again. I grip onto the edge of my chair, partly restraining myself, and partly holding myself together. I fully expect him to say that I’m going to have to compete with him for her, and it’s a fight I’m not sure I would win.

“Nothing, Brooks. I may have those feelings for her, and if I had the chance I would worship the ground that she walks on, but she doesn’t want me. She’s in love with you.” I loosen my grip on the chair and feel the indentations on my fingers that it leaves behind. “But I need to know that I’m doing the right thing by bowing out. I want you to say that you’ll treat her right.”

I take in all that he’s expecting of me, to reflect on my feelings for Vivian. “I promise, Will. I’m not perfect, and I know that I’ll have my fuck-ups, but I promise I’ll do my best to protect her. I know it’s hard for you to believe it, but I do love her. Believe me, it surprises the hell out of me because I didn’t even think I was capable of that emotion, but I do.”

Will doesn’t respond at first; it feels like a lifetime before he finally rises and holds out his hand for me. I meet him in the middle of the room and stretch my arm to meet his hand to shake. “That’s what I needed to know,” he says, shaking my hand. Then he drops back and gives some space between the two of us. “But if you hurt her, I swear to everything that is holy, I will crush you; I don’t care who your daddy is. I will end you. Do we have an understanding?”

“Will, if I fuck this up, I would want to beat my own ass.”

Satisfied with my answer, he nods and begins to walk past me to the front door. There is still another half an hour before the dining hall opens for lunch, and I assumed before this conversation that we would have gone together. “Hey, are you still going to meet up with the girls for lunch?” I ask. He stops and stills his hand that was twisting the doorknob. “No, I don’t really feel like it,” he says, refusing to look at me. “I’m going to meet up with Seth and Aaron from the rugby team. Just tell the girls something came up, please.”

Without looking for confirmation, he opens the door, moves through it, and slams it behind him. I don’t know if I lost my friend or not, but either way, I hope I can uphold my promise. I want nothing more than to protect her.

Vivian

All four of us girls have been eating in the cafeteria for at least fifteen minutes before either of the guys shows up. When Brooks walks through the door and I see his scowl and disheveled hair, I know he is stressed or upset about something. Anytime Brooks is over thinking something, his hands automatically find his hair, and he gently tugs on it until he can calm himself. He bypasses the food line and takes a seat at our table next to me. I frown at him as he sits, but he looks at me and shakes his head, waving me off. Whatever it is, it’s not open for discussion right now.

Shifting his emotions, he flings his arm across the back of my chair and kisses the side of my head. “Sorry I’m late, Red,” he whispers.

“No worries,” I tell him, trying to ease his tension. “I thought you and Will were coming together.”

He moves his hand away at the mention of Will’s name, making the buzzers go off in my head. Something happened between the two of them. “He forgot that he was supposed to meet a few of the rugby guys, but he said he’d be around later.” I give him a look that says that I don’t buy that load of shit for one minute, but he quickly changes the subject. “So what did I miss, ladies?” he asks, and the girls jump right into our previous conversation like they never skipped a beat.

“We were just deciding who Campbell is going home with for Thanksgiving,” Jen answers. “I want her to be my buffer from my parents, but Carly thinks that it’s not okay to subject her to that and wants her to come home with her.” Campbell aged out of foster care just after she graduated from high school, and while her last foster home was actually decent to her, she doesn’t feel comfortable going to their house for the holidays. I told her that if she didn’t mind crazy, she could come home with me, but I don’t think anyone should be subjected to the guilt trips and mood swings of my mother. I don’t even want to go home, and if the dorms weren’t closing, I wouldn’t be.

Whenever I feel sorry for myself, I look at Campbell and tell myself to suck it up. How she is even functioning with the life she’s had is beyond me. Her parents died when she was little, and she had no living family members that were able to take her in. Her parents had named guardians for her in their wills, and even set up a multi-million dollar trust to care for her thinking they had all of their bases covered. But when the guardians found out that she would only inherit the money in small increments after milestones in her adult life, like high school and college graduation, with the remainder being paid out when she turns 30 or gets married, whichever comes first, they handed her over to the state. They didn’t want her unless they were going to profit from it. She has since bounced around from foster home to foster home for the last ten years. Campbell is one tough girl; I wish I were half as resilient as she is.

“Why don’t you draw straws or something; winner gets their pick of Christmas or Thanksgiving,” Brooks suggests, stealing a French fry from my plate and swirling it around in the leftover ketchup.

“You guys, seriously, I really appreciate this,” Campbell interrupts. “It feels good that you all would even invite me, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to have me. I have enough money that I could stay in a hotel and do some work with the band. I could probably even stay with them, or go over there on Thanksgiving.”

“Over my fucking dead body,” Brooks snaps. He states it so sternly and sharply that we all immediately direct our attention to him. Carly’s eyes look as though they may pop out of her head. Sometimes I wonder how she even stands being our friend. She never cusses or says anything mean about anyone, and then there is Jen, who can’t complete a sentence without an f-bomb and a crude sexual reference included in it.

“What I mean is, we are your family, and a person spends holidays with family. I don’t care who you choose to go home with–you can even come to my house–but you will NOT spend it alone. That is unacceptable.”

“Okay,” she mutters, stunned by Brooks’ outburst. “I guess I’ll go home with Carly for Thanksgiving, and Jen for Christmas; the break is longer and she might be in more of a need of a safety net.”

Brooks looks around the table for objections and finds none. He then wipes his hands on his napkin and stands to leave. “Sorry I was late, but I need to get going to my next class. I’m supposed to stop by the library first to get a book that we are supposed to have for the final.” He bends down and kisses me on the cheek, then leaves before anyone can try to convince him to stay.