by Kris Bryant
“Hi.” I smile at her, and she smiles back. My smile gets bigger and I mentally scold myself. I feel like a total groupie and I don’t even know her music yet.
“How are you feeling?” she asks, concern in her voice.
“More embarrassed than anything. I’m fine though. Thanks for stopping to check on me. Are you settled in?” I wasn’t about to tell her about the two rather large bruises I found on my backside in the shower. I want to change the subject anyway.
“This is a really great camp,” she tells everybody.
“How long are you going to be here?” Val asks.
“I have the entire week off from my tour, so as long as Renee wants me here, I’m yours.”
If only she was saying that to me. I think about my online stalking again and mentally frown at my misfortune.
Renee announces that dinner is ready and it’s buffet style. I hang back a bit to distance myself from Ali. It’s exciting to be near her, but I need to stay away so I don’t start crushing on somebody who has a girlfriend. That’s the logical side of my brain. The creative side is already scoping her out. I notice her long fingers and the grace of her hands. Even though they seem delicate, they must be powerful and strong. She wears a silver ring on her thumb and another silver ring on the ring finger of her left hand. My heart sinks because that means she’s not available. I call on Ms. Dickinson and Mr. Frost for support. Emily feels my pain, but Bob is no help. He’s encouraging me to pursue her, knowing full well I shouldn’t. I’m going to have to ditch him and hang out with Em for a bit tonight. She’s more reasonable. She knows the power of mentally stalking someone while remaining completely passive and quiet. Tonight, we decide to talk about being nobodies in a sea of people. I prefer it that way and she agrees.
From what I can gather, the dinner conversation is going well. I’m able to tune out everybody except Ali. Maybe it’s because I’m not familiar with her voice, or maybe it’s because I want to hear it. It’s lilting. That’s a word I don’t think I’ve ever used before, but it fits Ali. Even if I didn’t know she’s a singer, I’m sure I’d have figured it out. Sometimes when she speaks, it sounds as if she’s already singing. Rob and Sandy, Val’s girlfriend, are telling Ali what to expect during the week with the kids. I turn my attention back to my meal and continue my discussion with Emily. We’ve moved on to one of her favorite topics: God. I save those conversations for when I really need to tune out the world because she’s pretty intense about Him.
“Why are you so quiet tonight, Beth?” I hear Rob say my name and am forced to press rewind and recall the entire question. I’m flustered, but I collect myself and answer.
“I’m just working out my story in my head,” I lamely explain. They don’t need to know the truth.
“Are you almost done?” He continues to prod me, then turns to Ali. “Bethy is a writer. She hangs out here every summer and works on her books.” My cheeks heat up again. I see Ali’s brow lift slightly and know he’s piqued her interest. I quickly look away, not wanting this conversation to take place. I like my anonymity here at camp.
“I love to read. What do you write?” Ali asks me. There’s no way around it. I’m going to have to make eye contact. We do, and there it is again. The jolt. My eyes widen at the intensity of her look, but I do my best to stay calm. I take a deep breath and answer.
“Mostly mysteries. Some poetry. Just whatever needs to get out of my head,” and my heart, I add silently. I never talk about my work. I’m very protective about it. Especially my new book. I still have mixed feelings about having it published, but Tom assures me it’s brilliant and really will help others. I think he just loves a good soap opera.
“Well, we’re proud of Beth and will leave her alone until she finishes it, won’t we, Rob?” Renee says, understanding my discomfort. The table laughs at her scolding, and he hangs his head in shame. The conversation turns back to Ali.
“Will you play us something after dinner?” Sandy asks Ali. She smiles and nods. She strikes me as the type of artist who loves to play for small groups.
“I think we have time for a few songs. Just let me run next door and grab my guitar.” She jumps up from the table and waves off everybody who’s objecting, promising it isn’t an imposition at all and she wants to do it.
“I like her already,” Renee says, sounding completely at ease with Ali.
“I’m surprised you didn’t mention her to us,” I say.
“Surprise! I really wasn’t expecting her to answer my email. When she agreed to come here, I was so excited. Her music is great and the kids will love her.”
As if on cue, Ali returns with a well-used Martin guitar and one of her killer smiles. Val and Rob move the furniture around to make room while the rest of us quickly clear the dishes away. Ali sits on a stool and strums her guitar for a bit, tuning it. I’m tense and make myself relax. I’ve always fantasized about a relationship with a musician. The minute Ali breaks into song, I’m enthralled. Something inside me opens up, and a rush of warmth and excitement dances in my veins. I shudder at the intensity of it. I’d chalk this up to my normal infatuation with rock stars, but this is something more. I want to look away, but I can’t. I want Ali to look at me, but I don’t. I’ve never heard Ali’s music before today and honestly don’t know that I can handle it. My body is tense again and an electricity surrounds me. I glance around to see if others in the room feel it too, but they’re all sitting back and smiling, oblivious to the combustible force I’m fighting. Ali finally makes eye contact with me and I gasp. The heat returns and my body swells. I have to leave. I can’t stay here a minute longer. As soon as she finishes her song, I jump up, do a quick wave to everybody, and bolt out the door. Every strum of her guitar follows me back to my cabin, and I can’t close the door fast enough. She’s fantastic. I have to stay away from her. I’m not good at this. I’m not good at relationships. I’m not good at pretending everything’s fine. I’m sure as hell not good at heartache.
Chapter Three
I’m surprised to see a light on in the fitness room. It’s well after midnight and I’m pretty sure I’m the only one awake at camp. I peek in the window but don’t see anybody. I’m hoping to find Sandy or Val in there so that I can sneak in and scare the living crap out of them. I punch in the code and push the door open. A slight movement to my right startles me, and I’m suddenly staring at an almost-naked Ali Hart. She’s wearing a black sports bra and tiny low-riding yoga shorts. Her flat, hard stomach is dripping with sweat. My eyes travel up and down her body, feasting on her erect nipples straining hard against the sports bra. I envision myself touching her stomach, running my hands over her tight, slick muscles. I actually ache to touch her.
“You scared me.” Ali’s voice is low and almost raspy. I quickly make eye contact with her, blushing at the look she shoots me. She caught me gawking at her and I can’t cover it up. Thankfully, she doesn’t call me out even though we both know. I clear my throat and apologize for scaring her. I head to a treadmill, the piece of equipment farthest away from Ali. I can feel her eyes on me the entire time. I don’t know if I’m excited or scared, and I’m struggling with wanting her to leave or stay here with me. I quickly stretch, then jump on the treadmill, thankful the humming noise is enough to drown out any conversation she might want to have.
I can see her in the mirror working out behind me. She’s lifting weights, and I can’t help but admire her lean and long body. The only meat on her is muscle. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, exposing her shoulder blades, and I’m practically drooling at the muscles that bunch every time she lifts the weights above her head. I’m incredibly turned on and incredibly confused. Yes, Ali is attractive, but I live in downtown Chicago where I’m surrounded by all different shapes and sizes of beautiful women. Not one has caught my attention or given me a spark until now. And this isn’t just a spark; this is a raging inferno. What is it about her? I can feel tiny quakes in my belly and squeeze the treadmill bars to keep from outwa
rdly shaking. I’m pissed at myself. I’m angry because she’s unavailable and because, even though I know that, I still want her. I try everything I can to get my mind off Ali. I sing “God Bless America” twice because I can’t find Emily or Robert anywhere. It’s too hard not to look at her. She’s twenty feet away from me. I watch her out of the corner of my eye. I never thought sweat was sexy. I always made my ex-girlfriend, Crystal, shower after she worked out because I didn’t want her touching me. I can’t understand this obsession with Ali and her sweaty body. Even when Ali busted me staring at her dripping wet six-pack, I still kept looking. I need to focus. I can’t remember the last time I fantasized about a woman. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time I masturbated. It was probably about six months ago and only to fall asleep. I know I haven’t done it because I was turned on and needed release. I’m almost positive Crystal packed up my libido in one of her suitcases and took it with her when she bolted. After the initial shock of having my lover abandon me, I eventually became numb to the thought of another relationship and the thought of sex. I don’t want to trust another woman with my entire body and soul and have her destroy me. Not even for a moment of passion. I’ve never been a promiscuous person. I’ve only had three lovers in my life. The thought of a one-night stand gives me the creeps. I place too much emphasis on romantic love. Probably too much, but it’s worked for me in the past and made me happy. Or so I thought before seeing Ali bathed in sweat.
Ali wipes down her weights, then heads my way. I can’t do anything except maintain eye contact. She turns on the treadmill next to me. I smile at her, then focus straight ahead. I fear that if I don’t, I’m going to trip, fall face-first, and smack into the wall behind me.
“Why are you up so late?” Ali asks.
“I normally don’t go to bed until late. I don’t need a lot of sleep. What about you?” I try to sound casual.
“My concerts usually last until almost midnight. Then it takes a few hours to unwind. I had all this energy and adrenaline and no stage to burn it off, so I decided to come in here.” I can think of about six different ways I can help her burn off that energy, but I keep that to myself. “Besides, exciting things happen late at night.” She smiles at me and her eyes narrow. I think she’s flirting. I stumble and grab onto the bars to catch myself. The last thing I need is to fall in front of her. Again. Warm, strong fingers wrap around my arm to steady me, and my knees feel weak again.
“Are you okay?”
I nod. “I have a nasty little habit of falling in front of you.”
Ali laughs. I turn off the treadmill. Apparently, I can’t walk and talk around her. She surprises me by turning hers off, too. Guess we’re going to talk.
“Are you done already?” I ask because I don’t know what else to say.
“I guess so.” She grabs a towel from the rack. I watch her quickly wipe the sweat off her face, neck, and stomach. I feel awkward staring at her. I need to get out of there. I open the door for us and say a quick good night to Ali without looking back at her. I really don’t want to be rude, but I just can’t. I can’t allow myself to feel anything for her.
*
The next morning isn’t any better than a few hours ago in the fitness room. I don’t know if I’m subconsciously seeking Ali out or if fate is guiding me, but I’m constantly running into her. Literally. On my way to the kitchen, I jog up the steps to the door reading a letter from Renee that she sent to all of the counselors, and my hands smack into a pink cotton T-shirt. Someone grabs my shoulders to stop me before my head can do any damage. I know who it is before I can even make eye contact. I already know her smell. How is that possible? I want to fade away like this didn’t really happen.
“I am so, so sorry,” I mumble, hardly able to make eye contact. She hasn’t moved her hands from my shoulders. Her touch burns. Finally, I look up and stare into her caramel eyes. She’s smiling at me. It’s more of a wicked grin and I’m wondering what’s on her mind.
“Where are you going in such a hurry, mermaid?” she asks. I turn bright red because I know she’s been talking about me with either Renee or her granddaughter or, worse, both.
“I really need to pay attention to where I’m going.” I realize my knuckles are still brushing her stomach and quickly drop my hands.
“I don’t mind you running into me.” She releases me, but her fingers touch my face and she gently brushes away a piece of hair. I’m pretty sure she lingers on my cheek for a few seconds longer than acceptable, but this whole experience has me disoriented and time seems to have stopped. Now I’m really confused. I don’t know if she’s playing with me, hitting on me, or what, but yesterday I read that she has a girlfriend, a live-in-let’s-buy-a-house-together type of partner. I’m disappointed and kind of pissed off because, in my mind, she’s perfect and would never cheat on her partner. She’d never hit on another woman out on the road. I must look pissed because she quickly steps away from me. “Renee’s inside if you’re looking for her,” she tells me and walks away. I watch her, my emotions swirling around, some of them identifiable and some I’m not sure I’ve ever had before.
Chapter Four
“Can somebody run into town and pick up what we need?” Renee asks the group. I’m just about to slink out the door when I decide getting out of camp is a good idea. I’ve been hiding from Ali all week. It’s Thursday morning and I haven’t spent one minute alone with her since Tuesday morning on the steps of the kitchen. Val and I volunteer simultaneously. I grab the truck keys off the table when I hear Ali’s sultry voice in the other room asking Sandy if she can tag along to drop off some mail. My palms start sweating. I tell myself she’ll be gone in forty-eight hours and I can survive a simple trip into town with her in my personal space bubble. I’m still irritated with her flirty attention. I want to bring up her girlfriend, but I can’t even talk around her. Plus, then she’ll know that I’ve been researching her and that might just encourage her more. I round the corner and brace myself. To my surprise, Ali is gone.
“Where’s Ali?”
“She ran to get her mail. Where have you been all week? You haven’t been around much,” Sandy says.
On Tuesday I talked Britney, one the newbie camp counselors, into switching workloads with me. She gets to play with the kids, and I get to wash clothes and clean up breakfast and lunch dishes. It’s busy work, but it kept me focused on something besides my growing obsession with Ali Hart.
“This is my behind-the-scenes week,” I say. Val gives me a weird look but doesn’t call me out. That was my job last week, too, but Sandy doesn’t realize it.
“Okay, I’m ready.” Ali returns, waving a stack of letters. “Thanks for waiting.”
God, she’s gorgeous. Her hair is in a French braid, pulled over one shoulder. I have no idea why her hair fascinates me so much, but I have to force myself to look away. She looks puzzled and I do my best to ignore her. She crawls in the back with Sandy, and Val slips in beside me. I’m thankful Ali isn’t next to me, but I can still see her in my peripheral vision.
The grocery store is only a ten-minute drive, and we split up as soon as we get there. Ali volunteers to go with me, while Sandy and Val head to produce. Suddenly, I’m a deer in headlights. She points to the aisle and starts walking. I follow and she slows down until I catch up.
“I’ve really enjoyed myself this week,” she says. “You haven’t been around much. Have you been engrossed in your book?”
Her eyes catch mine. She has the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re flirty and fun, and I can tell she’s a happy person. Why shouldn’t she be? She’s famous, beautiful, in the prime of her life, and probably has the perfect life with her girlfriend. I’m not jealous. I don’t know her well enough to be jealous.
“I’ve been busy with it. It’s hard to just stop writing.” I wish I was telling the truth. This week I haven’t even tried to write. “That’s why I’ve been doing more of the necessary evils around camp, because my schedule has been messed up.�
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“Like working out at one a.m.?” She winks. Her smile is infectious and I find myself mirroring her grin. We’re walking to meet up with Sandy and Val when I hear somebody calling me.
“Bethany! How have you been?” I turn around and see Sara Phelps approaching me. Wonderful. Sara runs the town’s five-and-dime store and recently came out after a twelve-year marriage. She’s a beautiful woman with dark-red hair and bright-blue eyes. She’s about my height but has twice the curves I do. As much as I want to like her, I just don’t. She seems high maintenance and very demanding, and I’m allergic to those two traits.
“Hi, Sara. I’ve been doing well. How about you? How’s business?” I introduce her to Ali and explain that she’s with us for the week, but Sara looks bored. I smile because I know when she runs across Ali’s name in the future, she’s going to kick herself for being rude.
“You should come by the store and see all the changes I’ve made. Besides, I need help with my website and you’re good with a computer,” she says. I mumble something noncommittal and say good-bye. I’m so uncomfortable. Ali is quiet as we head to the checkout lane. I don’t see Val and Sandy sneak up behind me. We are all quiet until we climb back into the truck. Val waits a solid minute before opening her mouth.