Page 35 of Built To Perform

Of the two, Clay was easier. Not because it felt any less duplicitous, telling him I was going to be studying with Adam, but because I could do it over the phone. Funnel all my certainty - my belief that I was doing the right thing - into my voice, making sure the tone was pitch-perfect.

“I can model for you some other time,” I suggested, trying to swallow down the guilt rising in my gorge.

“Sure, whenever you’re free,” Clay said. “I know it’s an imposition; I’m sorry if I’ve been keeping you from homework, or practice, or something.”

I closed my eyes, wishing he hadn’t apologized. It only made me feel shittier.

“It’s not that,” I said, trying to keep my tone light, casual. “Just that... well, Adam needs some help, and I said... y’know.”

“Of course,” Clay agreed, just like I’d known he would.

One down, one to go.

Adam was on his bed, scrolling on his phone, when I got back. Barely looked up from the screen as I dumped my bag.

I tried to remember how innocent people moved. It felt like every muscle required individual instruction to keep me from looking like a barely-animated suit of armor.

“You wanna get something to eat?”

I glanced at him, over my shoulder. Adam still hadn’t broken his gaze at the screen.

“Oh, uh... I wish I could, but...”

It was harder than with Clay, so much harder. Not just because I was in the same room with Adam, because I had to think about body language and eye-contact and all the other potential giveaways and tells. No, it was what being in that room had come to represent: him and me, actual friends rather than just grudging roommates. Two guys who’d shared secrets, and admitted fears, and figured out shit about themselves with the other’s help.

I’d got so damn lucky with my first college roommate. The idea of misleading him - even if I could tell myself the ends justified the means, even if I could believe that - curdled my stomach.

“Let me guess,” he said, with a chuckle. “You have practice.”

It felt like cheating to fall on the excuse so eagerly.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s it. I have practice.”

His distraction was the saving grace, I knew. Had he been paying attention, Adam would’ve almost certainly realized I was acting shady.

I dug through the closet, trying to be quick while also wondering what people might want to see me dance in. A singlet was a non-starter: the idea of it brought back mental images of Coach’s shocked expression, staring up at me with wide eyes through the flickering stage lights.

Gritting my teeth, and willing the memory away, I stuffed handfuls of clothes into my bag.

“I can wait, if you think you’ll be done before it gets crazy-late?”

I zipped the backpack closed, hurriedly. Feeling a strange rush of relief when it was sealed, like it was actually my deception I was locking away.

“Thanks, but, uh... I don’t think we’ll be done anytime soon, y’know?”

Adam made a face. “Coach giving you a hard time?”

I nodded, tight-lipped. Not trusting myself to speak, to answer that; the lies were bad enough, but putting words into Coach’s mouth felt like an injustice too far.

“It’ll be worth it when you win the finals,” Adam said. His grin was meant to be reassuring, comforting, I knew.

Shame washed through me like a cold tide rising.

“I should... go,” I managed to say. Frowned as I pulled the bag over my shoulder. “Don’t bother calling tonight. I’ll, uh, probably be too busy to hear my phone.”

Adam nodded, his attention already drifting back to his phone’s display. “You’ve got this, Eoin. Don’t let the grind get you down.”

Swallowing bile, I pulled the door closed behind me.