by Marta Brown
Narrowing my eyes, I smile. “You peeked.”
“What?” Tyler asks, half like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about, and half like he knows exactly what I’m talking about. “See what I mean? You have been quite the patient tonight. I think your concussion is making you imagine things.”
“If you say so, Slugger,” I tease, lifting my eyebrows knowingly at Tyler, which he returns with a panty dropping smirk.
That is—if I was wearing any.
…
Yawning from being woken up a million times to play a hundred and one questions with Tyler while he flashed a bright light in my pupils, I can barely keep my eyes open. Can you tell me your name? Do you know where you are? Do you want to makeout? No. No, that one was definitely in my dreams. Literally.
“All right, Miss Evers,” Doctor Newton says, wrapping his stethoscope around his neck and pulling me out of my thoughts. “You are clear to head back to your cabin, but I’d like you to refrain from any activities today. So please, take the day and rest—Doctor’s orders.”
“I will,” I say, yawning again. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, thank Tyler here.” Doctor Newton smiles before turning his attention to Tyler. “You did a great job yesterday by the way. So unless you want to earn brownie points, you are free and clear for the week since you managed to incur an entire week’s worth of job shadow hours last night.
“Not to mention a lengthy write up for your med school applications detailing your astute actions in regards to Miss Ever’s accident yesterday. I’m quite proud of you.”
Tyler nods. “Thanks, Doc. Or I mean, Doctor Newton,” he corrects, trying to sound more professional, I assume.
“Doc is fine, Tyler. We’re at camp, not a hospital board meeting. And speaking of meetings,” Doctor Newton checks his watch, “I have to go meet with Gale and Walter. They want an update on Emily and the middle-schooler who got poison oak yesterday.”
“Ouch.” I wince remembering the first time I got it from playing in the woods between the middle school cabins and the horse stables. It’s practically a rite of passage for the sixth graders who don’t know any better yet. Or do know better, and make a game out of running through it anyway.
“So, I guess you can run along, Tyler, and Miss Evers, you can use my office phone to call your parents and let them know how you’re doing. I know Gale has spoken to them several times and promised she would bend the rules and let you make one quick call, considering the circumstances.”
Tyler gives me a small smile before following Doctor Newton out of the room and leaving me in the office alone. I contemplate using the phone to call Kat because she is seriously not going to believe the last twenty-four hours, but I know Mom is probably freaking out by the second.
The phone only rings once before she picks up. “Emily? Honey? Are you okay?”
I can hear the panic in her voice and I rush to reassure her I’m fine. “Mom, I’m fine. I promise. It was just a stupid little accident.”
“Stupid accident? They said you had to be resuscitated, Emily! That does not sound little or stupid to me.” Mom’s voice breaks, and it sounds like she’s on the verge of tears. “This is all my fault.” She sniffles. “I made you go, and look what happened, if it were up to me, I’d let you come home right now.”
“Pamela,” Dad says in the background, his tone stern. “You heard Gale. Emily is fine.”
Mom covers the receiver with her hand, but it’s no use, I can hear her clear as day. “The only thing you care about is how much money we’re going to lose if we pull her out and let her come home.”
“What about honoring her commitments?” Dad throws Mom’s own argument back at her. “Pamela, she’s fine and we have some pretty serious matters of our own to figure out right now.”
No. No. No. No. No. No. No.
This is exactly what I was afraid of. They haven’t been alone for twenty-four whole hours and they’re already fighting about ‘serious matters.’ Serious matters? Like how to break the news they’re getting a divorce?
My heart starts to hammer. I have got to get out of here. At this rate, they’ll never survive the summer. “Mom, it’s fine. I’m fine. I promise.”
Mom takes a long pause before sighing. “If you promise.”
“I promise,” I offer before saying goodbye and hanging up the phone.
I promise to figure out a way to get the hell out of here.
…
“Omg, Em,” Jenny coos when I walk back into the cabin, still wearing Tyler’s oversized sweats and sweatshirt. “You look awful.” She wraps her arm around my shoulder and guides me to my bunk. “How do you feel, sweetie?” she asks like she’s speaking to a three year old, and it takes everything in me to keep from rolling my eyes at her Mother Teresa act. It kind of loses its effect when she straight up tells me how bad I look before asking me how I am. Nice.
“I’m good.” I slump down on my bed, my body sore, and the worry about how to get home weighing down on me. “But Doc says I need to take it easy today.”
“That’s too bad, we were planning on going inner-tubing later this afternoon when everyone gets back from morning activities, but I guess you should probably stay away from the lake. We wouldn’t want you to…” she trails off, like nearly drowning was my fault. No, I can thank Todd-the-bod for that one.
This time I can’t help it. I roll my eyes. “Yeah, too bad.”
“Well, if you need anything, you know where we’ll be.” Jenny grabs her beach bag, pulls out a large white binder and plops it at the foot of my bed. “And at least you’ll have plenty of time to read up on the rules, Junior Counselor. Remember, no counselor campfires or extended curfew until you pass the quiz.”
The rules test. I’d almost forgot. “Thanks.”
Smiling, she drops her sunglasses over her eyes. “You bet. See ya, sweets,” she says, blowing a fake kiss in my direction before rushing out of the cabin and leaving me alone, which I’m thankful for.
I prop up my pillow and pull the binder into my lap. I might as well study since I have nothing better to do until I can figure a way out of here.
Two hours later, as I near the end of the rules and regulation binder, I’m pretty sure my eyes blurring is a side effect from the concussion, and I’m also pretty sure Jenny just gave me a fool proof exit plan out of camp.
Three strikes you’re out.
Now all I need to do is figure out which rule to break first.
I need to write Kat.
Chapter 10
Tyler
Long day. Longer night.
Between the adrenaline rush of saving Emily, and the subsequent sleepless night monitoring her concussion, I’m beyond tired. And seriously freaked out.
It’s bad enough I hooked up with the coach’s daughter, but now she’s here—all summer—in a bikini.
This is not good. At all.
I blow out a lungful of air as I collapse on my bed. The small bedroom, if you can even call it that, has just enough space for a twin bed, a set of dresser drawers, and a night stand. Upside—it’s better than having to stay in the main room on a bunk bed. Downside—it has no door, so I can still hear what sounds like a locker room out there as the high school guys swap conquest stories and fart jokes. Great.
“Dude, she was like a buck ten—tops. I could bench press three of her one armed without breaking a sweat.”
“Wait. A buck ten soaking wet? Or dead?” some guy asks, causing the whole group to erupt with laughter.
“Ha. Ha. Very funny,” the first guy retorts. “If she wasn’t trying so hard to get off my shoulder and onto my jock, maybe she wouldn’t have hit her head.”
Hit her head?
Glancing out my doorway and into the main cabin of guys I’ve practically just met, since I spent the entire first day of camp in the nurses office with Emily, I see it’s that Todd guy, with the roided out body and fake tan who’s talking. And apparently is the one I’ve been listening to
brag about his ‘souped up car,’ his ‘raging parties,’ and his ‘football groupies’ for the last hour.
I shake my head. I swear I was never this bad when I was his age. Which I should know, since it was only three years ago, even though it feels like a whole lot longer after listening to these kids talk.
“Dude, you wish she wanted on your jock,” the red headed kid I think is named Andy says, snapping a towel in Todd’s direction. “You blew any shot you had with her. Might as well move on, man. That ship has sailed.”
“More like capsized,” a guy, who I can’t see from my room ribs, eliciting another round of laughs from the peanut gallery.
“Laugh all you want, losers. I’ve been working that girl for years, and I bet all you alls that I bag her by mid-sesh.” Todd flexes his biceps, and then kisses each bulging muscle, WWF wrestler style. “No girl can resist Todd-the-bod.”
I roll my eyes. As if speaking about himself in the third person isn’t bad enough—Todd-the-bod? Really?
“Dude, are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” the kid I still can’t see from my angle asks. “Emily Evers isn’t getting near you with a ten foot pole, man. You nearly killed her.”
“Yeah, well, I got another ten foot pole that might just change her mind,” Todd says, flopping down on his bunk, tucking his hands behind his head, and plastering a cocky ass smile on his face. One I’d like to knock off at the moment.
“All right.” I hop off my bed, tired of listening, and walk into the main cabin. “That’s enough.”
“Yo, Todd, you should ask Tyler what it was like to mack on Emily, since you never will.”
My eyes go wide and my mouth feels like it’s stuffed with the entire jar of cotton balls back at the nurse’s office. How in the hell do they know about us hooking up?
Todd grabs his pillow and tosses it at Andy, smacking him right in the face.
“CPR doesn’t count, dickwad.”
I take in a deep breath. CPR.
“Well, mouth to mouth is more than you’re ever gonna get,” Andy says, tossing the pillow back and laughing.
“All right, guys,” I say, hovering my hand above the light switch and letting everyone get settled. “Lights out.”
I flip the switch, but the chatter doesn’t stop on my way back to my room.
“Hey, Tyler?” Todd asks as I pass his bunk.
“Yeah?”
“So? Was it hot?”
“Hot?” I ask for clarification, confused by his question.
“You know, mouth to mouth with Emily?” He chuckles.
Man, this kid, is seriously starting to drive me up the wall with all the Emily talk. I clench my fists, both annoyed and weirdly jealous thinking about him and her together—which it shouldn’t—considering she’s way off limits to me anyway. I mean, she’s a camper, and worse, the coach’s kid, but I can’t stop myself from trying to get his goat.
“Hot like you’ll never know, dude.”
“Oh, burn,” someone says in the dark, drawing out snickers from the rest of the cabin as I walk into my room shaking my head. Teenagers.
I stop mid step and freeze. Oh, shit.
Teenagers. Like the underage kind.
My mouth drops open as a pit forms in my gut at the unexpected thought. Is. It. Possible?
The guy talk in the cabin becomes little more than background noise as I begin to pace my tiny darkened room, my mind racing.
No. She can’t be. Right?
My heart picks up speed. I mean, she was at our party—on campus—and she said she lived at Batterson Hall, the freshman dorm. I take a deep breath of relief. No. There’s no way she’s still a teenager. Although…
My lungs constrict as the doubt sets in again. Did she lie? She certainly omitted the truth about being Coach’s kid, so why wouldn’t she omit the truth about still being in high school, too?
A feeling of dread hits me. So much for having to decide between going to the minors or going to med school. I’ll be lucky to live if Coach catches wind of me—and his underage daughter—rounding the bases, so to speak.
I wipe my clammy palms up and down the legs of my cargo shorts, causing the key in my pocket to jab me in the thigh. I yank it out, and start to toss it on the dresser next to my bed, but stop short.
The key to the office hangs off a long black corded loop and swings back and forth in my hand, hypnotizing an idea out of me.
No. I can’t.
I throw the key down on the dresser and fall into bed, but as the noise in the main cabin dies down and is replaced with a mixture of soft breathing and loud snores the thought won’t stop running through my mind.
Easy in, easy out.
I mean, I was basically her treating physician last night, right? And there’s nothing wrong if I need to check her file for—you know—medical reasons.
Like, what in the hell her age is.
I hop out of bed and steady my breathing as I scoop up the key and tuck it back into my pocket. Zipping on a hoodie to guard against the cool summer night, I take quiet, but self-assured steps through the cabin and out the front door, letting the screen close with a soft click behind me.
I’m not sneaking out, I’m just checking a patient’s file, I keep repeating in my head like a mantra to keep my heart from beating out of my chest.
The camp is dark and quiet as I move through the trees and down the path to the main building where I spent all of last night with Emily. It wasn’t quite as amazing as the night before last with her, but a smile breaks across my face thinking about it all the same.
Laughing under my breath, I shake my head, not sure if my favorite part was the three different times she called me ‘Hottie Mchottieface’ when I woke her for the hourly concussion check, or when she changed into my sweats and sweatshirt and blushed when she caught me sneaking a peek.
Stop. Possible jailbait, remember?
I move more quickly to the office now, having to know the answer. I pull the key from my pocket when a noise startles me from behind.
Spinning around, I expect to see one of the owners, but it’s not Gale or Walter. It’s Emily.
She’s in a pair of short shorts, with her hair piled high on her head in a messy ponytail, and she’s still wearing my sweatshirt, which hangs loose from her tiny frame. And she looks amazing.
Damn it.
“What are you doing?” I ask, barely above a whisper, the key dangling in my hand.
“Sneaking out,” Emily says in her full voice, sauntering towards me, clearly not trying to be stealthy.
“Well, you’re not doing a very good job at it.”
She laughs at my assessment, and judging by her volume, I can’t tell if she’s just not adept at the art of sneaking out, or if she’s purposely trying to be overt.
“Shhhh. Keep it down.” I glance around, not particularly wanting to get caught myself.
She keeps a smile on her face, but her eyes narrow. “Better question is—what are you doing?”
I take in the girl, hoping the answer I’m searching for in the middle of the night will be as obvious as a big red flashing sign that says ‘eighteen’ above her head, but no luck. In the dim moonlight, surrounded by the flickering light of fireflies, she looks as innocent and young in a pair of red flip-flops as she looked out-of-control sexy in the red heels she wore a few nights ago.
“I uh…” I stammer, not sure if I should just come right out and ask.
She takes another step forward, so close I can smell the soft scent of bubble gum on her breath. “Yes?”
I run my hands through my hair. I might as well just admit what I’m doing, find out the truth, and call it a night. Because standing out here in the dark with her—all alone—is seriously tempting me to not give a shit. I want to kiss her again. Bad.
“I was going to check your file.” I shove my hands in my pockets, my shoulders high and tense.
She arches her brow, a mischievous smile on her face. “Why? Are you stalking me?”
&n
bsp; No. Yes. “I uh…I wanted to check…”
“Spit it out, Slugger,” she says, clearly enjoying watching me squirm as the teeth of the key, wrapped firmly in my balled up fist, digs into my palm.
“I was going to check your file for your age, all right.” I blow out a long breath, and immediately wish I wouldn’t have fessed up, because hearing the idea spoken out loud definitely makes me sound like a stalker.
Her eyes widen. “My age?”
“Yeah, your age,” I say under my breath, but failing. “It’s bad enough you’re my coach’s daughter, but are you even eighteen yet?”
Emily takes a step backwards and then another, her gait playful and light, unlike my own stiff posture as I anxiously wait for her answer.
“Sooooo,” she draws out, wearing a flirty smile, “you want to know my—”
“Miss Evers? Mr. Ford?” a deep voice says, interrupting Emily, and sending my heart careening into my throat.
I spin around and squint against the blinding shine of a flashlight obscuring my view of his face, but his voice is clear. Walter Robbins. Camp Director.
Chapter 11
Emily
Pissed off is an understatement.
I throw on a pair of cut-off shorts over my bathing suit, slip on my flip-flops, and glare at Tyler’s zip up lying crumpled at the end of my bed.
Scowling, I snatch it up from where I tossed it after getting back last night, and stomp out of the cabin and into the damp early morning. My attempt at getting strike one, putting me one step closer to going home, a total and complete fail. Thanks to Tyler.
The camp is quiet and empty with the exception of the kitchen staff busy preparing breakfast for nearly a hundred and fifty campers as I make my way down the trail to the lake. My anger growing wilder than the dew covered shrubs I’m cutting through.
“You,” I growl, crossing my arms when I reach the dock, not even trying to hide my contempt.
Tyler glances up, seeming startled by my abrupt greeting, before he runs his hand through his darkened hair and smiles. His green eyes crinkling at the corner as he treads water.