Undeveloped (Life Unfiltered Book 1)

by K Leigh

  “Wait. You’re abandoning me?” This news has me wide awake. “C’mon, Kate,” I whine, pulling a T-shirt over my spaghetti strap tank top.

  “I told you, if the opportunity presents itself, you seize it.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.

  “You can’t have sex at camp,” I whisper. “If you get caught…”

  “Oh, no, my young apprentice.” Kate laughs. “You don’t do it at camp. We’re going out for a supply run.”

  “In Seth’s car?” I shouldn’t be surprised. That’s where they slept together the first time. “Wait. So I’m with Matt then?”

  “Yeah, but don’t do it at camp. It’s against the rules,” she warns.

  Matt is right where Kate said he’d be, the clearing in the woods where all the paths up the mountain converge. Caution tape marks off a large area, and his efforts of digging are obvious. He leans against his shovel, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.

  “What in the hell are you doing?” He jumps at my exclamation, turning to face me. Dirt smudges his arms and hands. I’m accustomed to seeing dirty, greasy men, but Matt isn’t one I ever pictured like this. I have to admit, he pulls it off. Two weeks ago, I never would have imagined him with dirt streaked across his forehead, my heart racing at the sight of him sweating in the evening heat. Of course, he probably wouldn’t have dreamed of showering next to me.

  Or maybe he would have. Shaking the thought away, I focus on his moving lips.

  “We’re digging a mud pit.” Matt grabs a second shovel from the ground, handing it to me easily.

  “Why?” It isn’t as heavy as I had expected.

  “Part of the obstacle course is to find golf balls in the mud pit.”

  “So, why didn’t we con Seth and Kate into this while we do the supply run?” After attempting to roll my T-shirt sleeves up to my shoulders, I give up, dropping the shovel, and pulling my shirt over my head

  “Well, Seth and I were supposed to be the ones digging while you two went on the supply run.” I don’t miss the way his eyes roam over my shoulders and neck. The tank top is a bit more revealing than what I normally wear around camp, but he’s seen me in a towel. This is nothing new.

  I try to ignore his gaze and go to work. Slamming the tip of my shovel into the ground, I use my heel to push it in deeper. Pleased with the large amount I managed to scoop up, I throw the contents over my shoulder.

  “You gonna help, or you gonna stare at my chest while I do all the work?” I ask him with a huff.

  “It’s nice to see you let that feisty side out.” Matt swings his own shovel around. What a show-off.

  “Me? Feisty?” That’s a word I’ve never been described as before.

  “The whipped cream. Your little remarks.” He releases an animalistic grunt as he digs his shovel in. “And I started thirty minutes ago. Where were you then?”

  “I think you bring it out in me,” I shoot back, tossing another pile of dirt behind me, then scooping up more in an attempt to beat him to the punch. No way am I going to admit I had been asleep. We continued working in silence, the smug expression on his face only motivating me to work faster.

  Lightning bugs begin to flit around in the twilight as we dig the last bit of the hole. I lean against the dirty wall, blowing my hair out of my eyes. The pit is even with my belly button and when we sit down, it’s long enough for us to sit comfortably with our legs spread out.

  “All of this makes me think of my family.” Matt motions around us.

  The smell of fresh dirt surrounds me. I hate to imagine how many creepy crawlies are probably under and around us, so I focus on crumbling the dirt between my fingers instead.

  “The dirt?” I ask him.

  “Yes. This wall could bury us if enough pressure hit it.” He takes a deep breath.

  “Expectations do seem to weigh you down.” I think of my own family and their hopes for me.

  “Every damn day of my life. My family, they just…” He pauses, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay, we have everything we need or want, but they act like I owe them my life in exchange of the upbringing I’ve had. No freedom. No choice in what career I have or who I marry. I’d give up the money, the fancy car—everything—for my freedom.”

  “Who you marry? They can’t make you marry someone you don’t want to be with,” I scoff, then remember my mother’s own hopes that Connor and I would reconcile someday. Pot, meet kettle.

  “Tell that to my dad. Marry to protect the Rochestor name,” he mimics in what I assume is supposed to be his father’s voice. “Pick someone from good money, someone that can offer us a beneficial relationship. It’s all bureaucratic bullshit, Nat.”

  “You should tell him.” Repositioning myself in a criss-cross position, I continue. “Stand up for yourself.”

  “He has a few candidates lined up for me to meet when I get home, but no one is definite. So I guess I do have time to work up the courage.”

  “Tell him you wanna marry me.” Clasping my hands to my chest, I giggle at Matt’s shocked expression. “Tell him you can’t get the sweet and feisty preacher’s daughter off your mind. Maybe it’ll delay him, anyway.”

  “It wouldn’t be a lie.” Matt scoots closer to me, watching me intently.

  My giggles escalate into full-blown laughter that I immediately regret when hurt flashes across his face. Covering my mouth, I apologize, “I’m so sorry, Matt, I didn’t—”

  “Just forget it.” He pushes himself to his feet, reaching to climb out of the pit.

  Regret burns in my throat, words I can’t seem to form stuck somewhere in my esophagus as I hurry to stand. Reaching for his hand, I say his name. This is the first time we’ve touched in weeks. Since he pulled me from the bench that first morning on the cliff, I’ve taken care not to touch him. To take the camera without our fingers grazing, to step away if he moves behind me to watch my shot. Even in the mess hall, there was a wide berth between our bodies as I fed him the whipped cream.

  With a gentle pull of my hand, he’s turning to me. I’m not sure who moves or how fast, but in an instant, our lips meet in a sweet rush of exhilaration. A feeling settles in my chest that I can’t quite put a name to as his mouth caresses mine. I’ve always thought it was cheesy when girls said a kiss could make their world stop. I never felt that with Connor. But kissing Matt makes me understand what they all meant.

  In that moment, nothing exists except Matt, me, and our connecting lips.

  16

  Natalie

  Past

  It feels like my heart is broken…

  “Morning.” Matt’s half-hearted greeting dampens my excitement about seeing him again. After our kiss the previous night, he took our shovels to put away while I hid the golf balls. I was showered and in bed by the time I heard his door open. I waited a while to see if he knocked on my door, checked my phone a few times to see if he had texted me.

  Neither came, so I drifted off to sleep, unsure about where we stood. The morning had renewed my hope. After I dressed and found he wasn’t waiting for me on the steps, I rushed outside to meet him. I made my way to the cliff and found him sitting stiffly on the bench.

  Staring at him now, my resolve falters, but I’m determined to not let myself feel disappointed. Dark shadows circle his bloodshot eyes and his hair is all over the place, as if he hadn’t combed it.

  “Good morning.” As I speak, a dam of tension seems to release around us. I’m beyond nervous now. This doesn’t feel like the excitement and connection we had experienced last night. It feels more like burning letters and throwing rings.

  His hand covers mine and I wrap my fingers in his like we’d been doing it forever. He doesn’t have his camera bag with him, and I had stopped bringing my little disposable cameras long ago; although, he normally brings one and snaps a picture occasionally.

  I guess we aren’t shooting today.

  Although hesitant at first, my courage grows and I move closer until our legs are pressed against the other’s. Resti
ng our intertwined hands on my thigh, I wait in thick silence for his next move.

  “I have to tell you something.” Matt’s solemn face turns to me, the scent of his toothpaste filling the air between us.

  “So tell me something.” Our faces are mere inches apart, and I’m finding it hard to focus. His presence and the air he breathes seems to intoxicate me.

  He cups my chin, turning my face up. He searches my face, drinking in every inch of me, as if he’ll never have a chance to look at me again.

  My hand tangles in his shirt, pulling him to me, and I normally would have been embarrassed by the sound that escapes from me. But as his mouth covers mine, I no longer care.

  Our kiss the previous night had been sweet. A passionate, graceful dance. This is a fervent clashing of lips, a battle to the death. Both of his hands hold my face, as if our lips just being close isn’t enough.

  I had never been one to let the guy lead. With Connor, I always called the shots, and I wasn’t planning to give in so easily with Matt. I slip my tongue into Matt’s mouth and his meets mine eagerly. Breaking our connection for a split second, I shift in my seat to face him, legs tucked underneath me. His hooded eyes watch me as I move, and I wonder if he’d chase me if I ran.

  It doesn’t matter. I won’t run. I’m ensnared in his trap.

  “You can tell me something else now, if you want.” Nudging my nose against his, I want nothing more than for him to take me into his arms. We can talk later.

  “Can you move away while I talk?” The burst of rushed words catches me off guard but I oblige, trying to hide the rejection I feel.

  “Sure,” I reply, hoping my disappointment isn’t clear in my voice.

  “I can’t focus when you’re in arm’s reach,” he says. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it. I’m engaged.”

  Betrayal isn’t something I’ve tasted before, but I decide it isn’t my flavor of choice.

  “Engaged,” I repeat. Jumping up from the bench, I run my hands through my hair. “How could you let this happen between us if you’re with someone, Matt? Now I’m…” A pang shoots across my chest. “I’m the other girl.”

  Matt grimaces. “Last night, I wasn’t engaged, Nat.” He rubs his face, talking through his hands. “My father called me last night after the Cunninghams had left. They had dinner with my parents and wrote up a prenup for their eldest daughter and me. We’re to sign it when I get home.”

  “Cunningham.” I know one Cunningham, and she’s perfect. “Sabrina?” The image of her perfect figure and exquisite smile float across my mind.

  “No, no,” Matt says. “Sabrina’s cousin. Sabrina wouldn’t meet the criteria; they’re lower on the food chain.” He says it like he’d heard the same sentence a hundred times.

  “The plan is to merge our money with their political campaigns, and my family will have a, shall we say, influence over oil regulations.”

  “That’s wrong, Matt. This has to be stopped. You don’t even like her, do you?” What if he does like her? And if his family wouldn’t accept Sabrina, there’s no way they would accept me.

  “Technically, I haven’t asked her yet. They’ll plan photo ops of us dating for a month or so. Then we’ll go overseas, or somewhere prudent to someone important, and I’ll propose at some museum or landmark.” His bitter tone does nothing to soothe my worries.

  Because he isn’t saying no. He isn’t denying that he’ll go through with this. We had given in to our attraction, only to have to give each other up before we even got a real beginning.

  Matt clasps his hands together behind his head, leaning back with his eyes closed. “I wish I could change my life. Be who I want, be with whom I choose, do a job I love instead of something I despise.”

  His heavy sigh startles the birds in the tree above us and the sounds of their wings flapping fills the silence between us. I watch the birds fly over the cliff, soaring in the morning breeze and drifting over the peaceful lake. I wish we could soar away with them, escape reality and create a place as private as our mud pit. A place all our own, where expectations and family obligations can’t reach us.

  Then I realize, this place is our own. This camp, this secluded cliff that no one considered until the end of the summer. We’ve nurtured and paid tribute to this place, and to us. Now, we’ll reap what we’ve sown.

  “We can be friends again.” It sounds ridiculous as soon as I say it.

  Matt smiles, his eyes still closed. “You think we can be friends? That we were just friends? Maybe you haven’t been in the same place as me for the past two weeks.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I ask.

  “If you feel for me a fraction of what I feel for you, you wouldn’t even be suggesting that we be friends.”

  “I’m not going to sit here and argue with a guy I’ve known two weeks about who likes the other more.” My retort comes out before I can stop myself. “I spent months dating a guy I had to push against constantly, standing up for myself every day, taking the reins if I wanted any respect. I refuse to put myself through that again. I thought being friends would be better than nothing.”

  “Oh, come on, Natalie. You were practically engaged at seventeen. You’ve never seen the world; you’ve barely lived. You don’t know what you want to do with your life any more than I do. You’re just now finding out who you are, and you were going to throw it all away to be with someone who had no inkling of the depth you possess. To him, you were a prize, the preacher’s daughter, the pretty little redhead. You were the only one that didn’t give it up, and that’s why he wanted you. A trophy to put on a shelf with his football championships.”

  His words slice through me deeper than any blade. Not so much because they hurt, but because they’re true.

  “You’re one to talk.” Willing my wavering tone to steady, I continue, “You’re marrying someone as a business transaction! To keep your lifestyle. You say you’d give it up, but then you don’t. You could call right now and tell them no, but then they’d cut you off from your golden bottle. Maybe I haven’t traveled and experienced luxury, but I understand the real world. You have blinders on. I may just now be finding myself, Matt, but so are you.”

  Turning my back to him, I stare out over the lake until I hear his footsteps crunching down the path.

  17

  Natalie

  Past

  It wouldn’t be Parent’s Day without a little drama…

  Natalie Rose,

  Hello sweetheart! Hope you’re doing okay! Hard to believe camp is halfway over. It’ll be good to see you. We miss you! I’m sorry we won’t make it to Parents’ Day. Your dad is preaching at a revival. Teddy said he could come, but I told him you’d rather he stayed with Violet.

  I had lunch with Connor’s mom the other day. She mentioned he hasn’t heard from you. I told her maybe a letter was delayed for some reason. Talk to you soon.

  Love,

  Mom

  Her not so subtle attempt at telling me to write to Connor doesn’t pass me by. I imagine him excited to receive a letter from me. I can see him opening a letter in front of his football buddies and his face falling as he reads it. What is it they call it, a Dear John letter? Then again, do I owe him an explanation? I made no promises to him.

  While Matt’s words were meant to—and did—anger me, there had been monumental truths hidden behind his spite. My love for Connor was naive, built on a false sense of knowing what I wanted.

  Matt and I aren’t anything. Not even a we. We’re merely two kindred spirits drowning in the expectations others have of us, and somehow, that bonded us. But there’s no guarantee that it means anything long-term.

  And he’s engaged. I had settled for a mediocre first love and made a lot of sacrifices to guarantee other people’s happiness, but I draw the line at being the other woman.

  Matt and I go three days without talking. No photography sessions together, no rushed showers before we hurry to prepare breakfast. We don’t even
look at each other. I take pictures on my own and shower after in silence. I’ve heard him leave his room once I close my own door, but he always avoids me in the hallway.

  Occasionally, I feel his eyes on me in the kitchen, but when I glance his way, he’ll suddenly be staring down into the dishwater, or engrossed in the instructions on the back of the pancake mix. I hate to admit it, but I miss him. His easy laugh when I make a sarcastic remark and his love for the sunrise. I’ve only been in his arms twice, yet I still feel hollow when the memory of his warm embrace slips into my dreams.

  Dear Natalie Rose,

  I was going to wait till you wrote, but it seems like you’re not going to.

  The days are long and short here. I know that makes no sense, but it’s true. Every hour feels like three until bedtime, then when I wake up, I feel like I just fell asleep. I’ve got your picture taped to my bunk. Everyone here talks about how pretty my little redheaded girlfriend is. I don’t tell them you’re not my girlfriend because I hope that one day you might be again.

  Love always,

  Connor.

  I made a good call when I didn’t write to Connor. If nothing else, his reply solidified the fact that we aren’t meant to be. He didn’t even mention camp or ask anything about my summer. I really was just another trophy to the hometown hero.

  “Can you believe everyone’s parents came?” Kate whispers as I fold up Connor’s letter.

  “I know. We never have this many.” Following her gaze, I watch the Ladybugs laughing as they eat with their parents. “Are your parents coming?”

  “Thankfully, no.” Kate shudders in mock horror. “They’re still on their cruise.”

  “You don’t miss them?” The thought of my parents and Teddy gathered around the dinner table without me hits me with a pang of sadness.