Footsteps on the porch drew my attention and my pulse raced again. If Loraine caught wind of the accident, and found me here, it was game over.
I turned, sneaking across the wood floor until I spotted Jess creeping across the threshold. I let out a long breath, my hand at the base of my throat.
“I thought you were Loraine,” I whispered.
“Not even close,” she said. “But I saw the guys through our back window and they’re almost to cabin four. Unless you intend to get caught, you need to hurry.”
“I’m done,” I said, racing toward the door.
We closed the screen door to our side just before Grant and his boys reached the porch. They spoke in hushed tones, contradicting their heavy footsteps.
“Could they be any louder?” Brie groaned, tugging up her covers.
“Let them enjoy tonight,” Jess said, sitting on the bed beside her. “They’ll be much quieter in the morning. Just wait.”
14
Complicated
“Hi, best co-counselor ever,” Grant said, catching me outside at the normal time.
He was leaning against the porch railing like every other day, holding two travel mugs with extra cream in mine.
“You wouldn’t happen to know why some of my campers are currently blue, would you?”
I paused, mentally face-palming myself. “I want it noted that I cleaned up the most dangerous part,” I said continuing toward him.
“Heard one of your girls spent last night in the nurse’s office,” he said, handing me my coffee. “All things considered, I’d take blue humans over broken ones.”
Despite the guilt still nagging my conscience, Grant’s smile was contagious. Seeing him at the beginning of every day was comforting, a ritual that made the day seem more manageable.
“On a scale of one to ten, how Smurfish are they?” I said.
“Mm, a solid nine, but the Saran-Wrapped toilet seats were the real winner. That was a pain, considering most of them take a morning crap.”
Of course they wrapped the toilet seats. Brie was in charge.
“Loraine is totally going to catch wind of it and realize my cabin is the one responsible,” I said, cringing.
“I’ll just lie and say it was an innocent prank between my campers,” Grant said. “She trusts me. There’s no reason to suspect I’m lying.”
“Unless it’s to cover for me. She knows we like each other. It would make sense for you to lie for me.”
“Then I’ll take one for the team and make sure there’s a five-foot radius between us today,” he said, backing away. “She’ll think we’re arguing about something, and we’ll fly under the radar. Besides, I know how hard it is for you to keep your hands off me. The five-foot radius will help you control those urges.”
“Hey! Most of the time you start it.”
“Can you blame a guy?”
Grant closed the distance, a smile playing at his lips. Whether or not he was always the one to initiate affection, I had zero problem following through. Being around him was natural. Too natural for someone trying to stick to the rules.
“Kissing you is totally worth the lecture,” he said.
“You’re being a bad influence.”
“I never claimed to be a good one.”
He grabbed my hand, linking it with his.
“In other camp matters, what do you want to do about this prank war?” he said. “I like knowing you tried and failed to get revenge, but I don’t like knowing you were almost caught. Loraine won’t take it easy on you just because you’re her niece.”
“That’s the best reason to take it easy on me.”
“Except she has to file a report every time one of the campers gets hurt,” Grant said. “Then that report is sent to other people, then forwarded to more people. Eventually, a board who puts it with the rest of Camp Kenton’s documentation reviews it. It can be a big deal if the wrong person gets injured, or if anyone gets injured too bad.”
“You seem to know a lot about the inner workings of camp,” I said.
“Probably because I have connections to the people in charge of running said camp.”
I surveyed him as he walked toward the porch steps. “What connections?”
“None-ya business,” he said, taking them one-by-one. “So, not to change the topic, but are you and me still on for tonight? Or have you come up with some lame excuse for why you can’t and won’t go on a date with me?”
“Answer my question, then I’ll answer yours.”
“But talking about a potential date is funner than talking about camp. We live and breathe this every day. Don’t drag my boring outside life into the mix.”
“So it has to do with your outside life?” I said, quirking a brow.
“It has to do with my mom,” he said, landing on the dirt. “And that’s all the information you’re getting. You want more, you can get it on the date.”
“Um, you turned me down first,” I said, heading for the steps. “If I recall correctly, which I do ninety percent of the time, I hit on you and you rejected me. It would serve you right for me to dish some of that disappointment your direction.”
“You wouldn’t turn down Starbucks.”
“Starbucks? Who said Starbucks? That should’ve been your starting point,” I said.
He nudged me in my side, then grabbed my hand as we walked. “Just be at the counselor cabin by nine.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Grant.”
“It’s the only bargain, Alex.”
* * *
A quarter after eight, Kira poked her head through cabin two’s screen door. I pushed myself off my bed, sliding on a pair of sandals as she headed my way.
“Um, excuse me, but where do you think you’re headed with your hair all curled and your makeup looking like a YouTube tutorial done right?” Brie said, not even bothering to lift her head off her pillow. “And don’t bother telling me it isn’t somewhere exciting. You haven’t contoured since you got here. Trust me, I’ve been dying to help you.”
“I feel like that’s her way of complimenting you,” Kira said, meeting me in the middle of the cabin.
“It’s the closest she’ll get,” Jess said.
I grinned and shook my head, fumbling with the earrings Kira had lent me. I’d been around Grant for a while now, but mid-hair-curling my stomach had started to knot.
It was stupid. He liked me. I liked him. Still, doing something relatively normal with a guy I was legit interested in was oddly uncomfortable. What if outside of camp, we didn’t have the same kind of chemistry? I mean, here we had to be around each other. Outside camp, we didn’t have to do anything.
“Hey,” Kira said, tilting her face into view.
I shook the thoughts, absentmindedly smoothing the front of my romper.
“You have a great time and make sure you give me all the deets later,” she said. “I’ll be here holding down the fort when you get back.”
“Thanks, Kira,” I said, nodding.
I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and let out a long breath, slowly closing the distance between me and the door.
Outside, amid the quiet, most of the cabins were shut down for the night. Lights were off, the hum of the grasshoppers the only noise to disturb the silence. Dirt crunched beneath my feet, the distance between cabin two and the counselor cabin shrinking as my heart started to race.
Why would I get nervous now? When Grant and I were on great terms? Because every time you let someone in, you lose them.
Guilt simmered in my stomach, boiling harder as I found my way to the counselor cabin’s porch. That wasn’t true. It is true.
My arms wrapped around my stomach, any excitement for the date dying a slow and miserable death as my mind drifted further into memories of Mitch. Memories of Nikki.
“Quit thinking about it,” I whispered, skirting a glance around camp.
Grant would be here any minute, and I would have to find a way to force a smile before he realized
something was wrong. I could hide my emotions from literally every human on earth, but I couldn’t do it if I didn’t have time to collect myself. I couldn’t do it if—
“Hey, beautiful.”
The words ignited heat in my veins, pulling my attention toward the faceless silhouette stalking toward me in the dark. Grant’s face became more visible the closer he came. His smile was brighter than before. Warm.
He was dressed in a plaid button-down shirt and khaki cargo shorts, his head devoid of his usual Texas Tech hat, leaving his overgrown hair poking out behind his ears. And he smelled good. Real good. Like vanilla and sandalwood and every other delicious aroma I couldn’t even think of at the moment.
With his hazel eyes on full display and a five-o’clock shadow gracing his chin, the planes of his face sucked every coherent thought from my brain. It wasn’t fair to look this good, not when I was trying to wage a war between why I should and shouldn’t let him in.
“You ready?” he said, twirling a pair of car keys in his hand.
“That depends. Are those the keys to Loraine’s truck?”
“Why? You want them to be?” he said. He flashed me another grin when I shook my head. “They’re the keys to Linc’s car. I’m borrowing it in exchange for covering his lifeguard shift for the next four days.”
“And what about your shift out at arts and crafts?” I said, quirking a brow. “Because I happen to know a particular co-counselor of yours who was assigned to cover the pavilion for the next few days, but would be more than happy to bribe a junior counselor into doing it for her.”
“Ah, I don’t know. Loraine has this thing about people switching shifts—”
I nudged him in the side and he laughed.
“Okay. Okay. You get Erica to cover your shift at the pavilion and I’ll happily have you fill in for me at A and C. We both know that’s where you want to be anyway.”
“Air-conditioning. Unlimited painting supplies. No arguments over who kicked a ball out of bounds or who fouled who. You can’t blame me.”
“I don’t know. Maybe it would give you some time to work on your basketball skills,” Grant said.
He grabbed my hand, linking his fingers with mine as we stepped off the porch. We were barely past the camp office when he stopped again, his body a wall of warmth as he turned and faced me.
“Hi, I’m Alex,” I said, grinning as I looked at him. “Who are you? How can I get your number?”
“Shh,” he said, putting a finger to my lips. “Your aunt is outside her RV and I’m trying real hard not to get us caught.”
“Why does it matter?” I said, peering around him. “Our shifts are covered.”
“They are,” he whispered, “but that doesn’t give us permission to leave camp. Nights off are usually spent in the counselor cabin, down at the lake, or somewhere near camp. If she realizes we don’t plan on staying here, she’ll flip.”
My pulse raced at the sight of Loraine. She was sipping from a cup, sitting quietly beneath her awning, while a TV sounded through the camper’s screen door. She was like the security guard outside the party, waiting to catch stragglers.
“Any ideas for how to get by her?” I said, looking at him again.
“Well, we could wait it out or we could take the other way through camp. That would involve the woods and possibly getting snake-bit, but I’m up for it if you are.”
“Danger on the first date?” I said. “Somebody knows the way to my heart.”
Grant shifted, holding my hand tighter as he turned and headed the opposite direction. In the dark of night, Camp Kenton was a ghost town. The trees lining it even more so, their overbearing stature and impending darkness making my heart race as he entered them with me following behind.
“Why do I feel like we’re going the complete wrong direction?”
“Because your sense of direction sucks,” he said, laughing.
I squeezed his hand tighter but he continued walking, holding back low-slung tree limbs and dodging broken branches as we weaved a darkening path through the woods.
“This looks straight out of a horror movie,” I said. “Like something is about to swoop in and grab us.”
“We’re almost there,” he said. “But in the event this turns into The Blair Witch Project, I’m sacrificing you.”
“Aw thanks. That makes me feel all warm and cozy inside.”
Ahead, through a series of narrowing trees, the faint outline of a parking lot slowly started to appear. Grant continued toward it, maintaining his grip on my hand as the cars became more and more clear.
“Oh, ye of little faith,” he said as we exited the last of the trees, crossing the dirt toward the moonlit parking lot.
“Let me check myself for ticks. Then we’ll discuss how much faith I have in you,” I said, smiling as he stopped beside a black four-door SUV.
“I can help you check for ticks.”
“You wish.”
“I do.”
I grinned and slid into the passenger side. He closed the door behind me, hurrying around the hood to the driver’s side. Once he was in, he crammed the key in the ignition and looked at me.
“You ready for the best date of your life?” he said, pulling the car from the spot.
“You’re awfully sure of yourself, but I’ve had some pretty good dates. I mean, one guy did convince me to drive a car off into a lake.”
“Pft. That guy is an idiot and obviously wasn’t smart enough to keep you around.”
“He was something,” I said, focusing on a narrow dirt road winding through the trees. The exit was almost an exact replica of the main entrance, except more trees kept it hidden and it had a large cattle guard.
“You mean to tell me there’s another entrance to this place and no one bothered to mention it?” I said. “I could’ve already snuck out a million times.”
“Which is why the info is only reserved for privileged and experienced counselors like myself. Now that you know, you have to use it responsibly.”
“Like for secret dates with my co-counselor?” I said.
“Yep.”
Grant pulled the car through the gate. The dirt road blended with a long stretch of highway a few minutes later. Dimly lit, with little traffic, the two-lane country road had virtually no ending and no scenery but trees.
“So, what is this grand date plan of yours?” I said after a minute. “To get us lost in the woods, then apologize with Starbucks?”
“Would you like that?”
I tapped my fingers against my jaw, letting my attention linger on the window. “I think that depends on how late this Starbucks is open.”
“We’ll go there first,” he said, laughing. “You’ve been talking about it long enough I think you might rebel if I get us there after they’ve closed.”
“Or I’ll cry,” I said.
“I thought you said you don’t cry?”
“I’ll cry for that.”
He reached over and grabbed my hand, grinning as he steered us through the night. Deer scattered both sides of the road, a few threatening to make their way in front of us. Grant slowed for them, easing my nerves and getting us into Lufkin just after nine forty-five.
“We managed to get here with fifteen minutes to spare,” he said, slowing at a stoplight. “Let’s get the caffeine, then get to the real part of the date. I’m going to need a shot or two of espresso if we’re going to be even remotely successful locating anything.”
“Locating anything like…”
“Geocaches.”
I arched a brow as he merged onto the loop. “Is there a description that comes with that word, or should I already know what that means?”
“You’ve never been geocaching?” he said, gawking at me from across the console.
“Nope. I’ve done a lot of things, but that isn’t one of them.”
“Then we’re definitely going.” He pulled his phone from the console, handing it to me. “Find the app that says geocache. I saved some of the co
ordinates earlier.”
I took the phone from him, pausing at the picture on his phone screen. A selfie of what looked like a younger version of Grant and the same man from the photo in Grant’s cabin stared back at me. Same chestnut-colored hair. Same vivid hazel eyes. Same sharp facial features as the guy who sat across from me now.
“Is this you and your dad?” I said, scrolling through the apps.
“Yeah,” he said, slowing as he exited the loop. “I think I was twelve in that picture. Maybe eleven. Can’t remember exactly.”
“Y’all look alike.”
“Thanks. I hear that all the time.”
I found the geocache app and hit it with my thumb. “So, in the interest of getting to know you better, where are you from?” I said.
“Why do you randomly want to know?” he asked.
“Thought it might be a good idea, given that this is a date and that’s usually what people do.”
“Boring people.”
“So, Dallas?” I said. “One of those places in the Panhandle? You have an accent, so you have to be a born and bred Texan. I’m assuming somewhere in the backwoods.”
“Um, you’re the Cajun,” Grant said, grinning. “And to answer your question, I currently live in Lubbock. I just finished my freshman year at Tech.”
“What are you studying?”
“Sports management,” he said. “Cliffs Notes: I’d eventually like to do some kind of sports-analyst job for ESPN. If it falls through, I’ll probably aim for a sports-agent position or something along those lines.”
“Sounds fun.”
“For now,” he said, shrugging. “But who knows? If my mom had it her way, I’d still be in Austin. She always saw me as getting into something more politically driven. Basketball analytics are the furthest thing from her idea of an interesting conversation topic.”
“What about your dad? Who does he side with?”
“My dad died when I was thirteen. Hit by a drunk driver. But, if he was still around, I think he’d want me to do what makes me happy.”
Nausea flooded my stomach, my fingers becoming increasingly heavy as I lifted a steely gaze. For as much as I could’ve curled into a tiny ball and shriveled into nothing, it was a good thing he was paying attention to pulling into Starbucks and wasn’t focused on me.
Last Chance Summer Page 15