by Hart, Lane
“Royal, you just made it!” one of the female counselors holding a clipboard says, so bleached blonde and peppy she’s nearly jumping for joy. “We were just getting ready to load up in the van.”
“Awesome,” I mutter. “Where are we going?”
“This week’s site will be Latham Park. We’ll be cleaning up, painting and rebuilding playground equipment.”
“Wow. How exciting,” I grumble.
“Isn’t it?” the counselor exclaims excitedly, having missed my sarcasm. She then presses the clipboard to her chest, so she can grab my hand. “We are going to have a great time serving the Lord on such a beautiful day.”
“Uh-huh,” I say as I glare at her hand still squeezing mine. “You know what, though? I’m feeling a little queasy this morning. Think I can just observe today so I don’t vomit all over anyone?”
“Oh, yuck,” she says, quickly dropping my hand. “I guess sitting this one out would be best.”
“Great,” I reply in relief.
“All right, everyone on the bus!” she yells, holding up her clipboard above her head and blowing the fucking whistle around her neck, right beside my goddamn ear.
If she touches me again, I may just shove that whistle up her ass. Not that she isn’t cute or whatever. I just can’t take her peppiness this early in the morning. If she wanted to grab something else of mine later on, then I would be all for it.
All of us file slowly onto a big white van, everyone heading to the back until all the tattered leather rows are filled.
I didn’t even know Hannah was behind me until I flop down on the seat and see her about to slide in next to me.
“Hey,” she says with a smile.
“Hey,” I greet her melon twins that are so far the best part of waking up at the ass crack of dawn.
“Hannah! Up here!” Garrett calls out before she can lower herself into my row, making me want to knee him in the balls for some unknown reason. All I know is that he’s going to be the bane of my existence for the next four weeks.
* * *
Hannah
“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Garrett asks me when I take a seat next to him on the bus.
“Ah, yes, it is,” I agree.
“Tonight should be clear skies too,” he adds, making him sound like a wanna be weatherman.
“Really? That’s nice.”
“There’s going to be a bonfire at the lake,” he goes on to say. “Do you want to maybe go down there with me?”
Well, if that’s not a perfect segue for what Leeanne brought up yesterday, then I don’t know what is. And while I hate to be mean to Garrett, it’s probably for the best if I’m honest with him like she suggested. Not to mention I absolutely hate being hated.
Leaning closer to him so that I can lower my voice without anyone else overhearing, I say, “I think you’re really great, Gar. You’re one of the nicest, most polite guys I’ve ever met.”
“Ah, thanks,” he replies with a big smile and a bump of his shoulder to mine. “I think you’re great too, Han.”
“I’m so glad we’ve been friends for so long and that we get to hang out here helping people together every summer.”
“Oh. Friends,” he says, sounding defeated, his cheeks reddening a shade at the emphasis I put on the word friends. “Yeah, I’m glad we’re friends too.”
Lowering my voice even more, I say, “Did you know that there are a ton of girls that think you’re cute?”
“No.”
“Well, there are. If you go to the bonfire tonight, I bet they’ll be lining up to talk to you.”
“You really think so?”
“I do. I hope you have fun,” I tell him, and then thankfully the van pulls up at the park and I’m saved from having to endure another second of this awkward conversation.
As soon as we’ve all decided on our assignments — I asked to re-paint the old clubhouse, because having a paint brush in my hand is one of my favorite things — everyone gets to work.
I’m on my second coat of red paint when someone behind me says, “You missed a spot.”
Without looking, I know it’s Royal just because he’s always rude and grumpy, never with anything nice to say. Not that he’s ever said more than a sentence directly to me before…
“Thanks, but I’ll get to it eventually.”
“Whatever,” is his reply.
I hear his footsteps stay nearby, so before I go back to the tray for more paint, I glance over my shoulder to find him sitting on one of the steps. His arms are crossed over his chest and his amber eyes are closed with his face tilted up toward the sun, the rays of which highlight the auburn strands in his short curls. There’s a scowl on his face that doesn’t distract from his handsomeness. If anything, it just makes him that much more appealing for some unknown reason, like the frown is only a hint of something so much deeper on the inside...
“Stop staring at me,” he grumbles without opening his eyes.
How did he know I was even looking at him? Embarrassed at him catching me gawking at him, I get back to work, painting in slow and even strokes. “Shouldn’t you be doing something?” I ask.
“Nah. I ain’t doing shit today or any other day.”
“Oh-kay,” I mutter. “Then why did you come?”
“Not by choice, that’s for fucking sure.”
I wince at his easy, familiar use of the f-word. “Time goes by faster if you stay busy.”
“I’ll take my chances with being lazy,” he tells me. Neither of us speak for a few minutes until finally Royal says, “So you and dickhead were pretty cozy in the van this morning.”
Since it wasn’t a question and really none of his business, I don’t bother responding.
“You actually want his boring, straitlaced ass?” Royal eventually asks me.
“Garrett’s my friend.”
“Looked like more.”
“Well, it’s not,” I tell him.
“You know what?” Royal says. “Dickhead looks a little mopey over there where he’s sanding the seesaw. That your fault?”
Since Garrett’s working in front of the clubhouse, I glance around the corner to see him. The usually happy-go-lucky guy does look miserable with a frown on his handsome face and his shoulders slumped. Still, I won’t give Royal any ammunition to use against him. “He looks fine to me.”
“No, he doesn’t. The dude looks like someone took a shit on his pancakes. What did you say to him this morning?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar,” he accuses. “Must have been harsh whatever it was.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I quickly argue.
“So you did say something to him,” Royal chuckles. “Did you tell him to fuck off? Didn’t take you for a bitch, Morgan.”
“I’m not a bitch, and I’m sure it’s something else that has him upset, not me.”
“Does that mean you don’t have any plans to go kiss him to cheer him up?”
“Um, no.” The idea of putting my mouth on Garrett’s is just wrong, not because I’ve never kissed a boy before, but because I have zero interest in kissing that particular boy.
“That’s what I thought. You friendzoned him! Brutal, Morgan. Absolutely brutal!” Royal belly laughs out loud, clearly enjoying someone else’s misery.
“Could you go find someone else to annoy?” I ask him. “Or maybe pick up a tool and do something to help us?”
“I’ve got a tool, all right. Want to see it?”
“Sure –” I start to say before I realize he’s being crude. “Go away, Royal.”
“Not a chance. You’re stuck with me, Morgan. Get over it.”
“You may be the only person who wants to be around me,” I mutter under my breath.
“What’s that?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“You missed another spot up top. You’re gonna have to really stretch for it,” he informs me, making me roll my eyes. It’s going to be a long day.
Chapter Thr
ee
Royal
“You got a thing for Hannah or something?” I ask my dickhead roommate after we both get back to our dorm room Monday afternoon.
“Yeah? So?” Garrett responds, not even bothering to deny it. “She’s hot.”
“Yeah, she is,” I easily agree. “Too bad she’ll only ever see you as a friend,” I tell him, making him sulk even more over where he’s reading his book on his bed. “You know why that is?”
“Why?” he asks, lowering the paperback to look over at me, hope filling his dumb, little eyes that I’ll be able to impart some wisdom to help him get some pussy.
“Because you’re too nice.”
“There’s no such thing as being too nice,” he argues with a huff before he goes back to his book.
“Sure there is. Girls don’t want you to constantly smother them with kindness. That’s what friends are for. And they sure as shit don’t want you asking to hold their hands or to kiss them. It’s all about the spontaneity, taking chances, playing hard to get, keeping them guessing so they never get bored.”
“If that’s what you think, then you’re in for a long life alone, Royal,” he informs me.
“We’ll see,” I tell him. “You do shit your way and I’ll do it mine, and we’ll see who gets some pussy first.”
“So, you’re a virgin too?” he asks.
“Hell no,” I instantly deny even though it’s a big, fat lie. Not even Blake and Aric know I haven’t made it past second base yet. It’s hard to get naked with a girl without her asking about the bruises and shit all over my body, which are no one’s fucking business. I don’t want or need anyone’s pity. The last thing I need are nosy people going around telling everyone I’m a pussy who gets his ass kicked on a regular basis by his old man.
“Oh. I should’ve known you had already hooked up with a lot of girls,” Garrett mutters, not even bothering to challenge me on my claim. The asshole must be fucking depressed if he’s buying my bullshit.
Really, I shouldn’t enjoy his misery with being butthurt over Hannah so much, but I do. It’s karma for his father making me waste four weeks of my life in this hell hole camp.
And to rub salt in his wounds, maybe I’ll try and steal his girl right out from under him. It’s not like he has a chance with Hannah anyway. Besides, trying to get under the goody two shoes’ skin will be fun. I don’t buy her whole sweet, innocent act like everyone else. I bet I can make her show her true colors eventually if I push her buttons hard enough.
Chapter Four
Hannah
I’m exhausted after a long week on a labor of love. My arms and legs ache so much I can barely lift them an inch, but it was totally worth it to see the faces of the kids in the neighborhood light up with joy at all the new and improved playground equipment. Still, as fulfilling as it was, I can’t wait to get back to my dorm room and pass out after my cold shower. I was too tired to even wash and dry my hair, and every step back to my room seems to take twice as long.
Now that I’m finished, I can just enjoy the next two days off. I’ll probably still try to find some odd jobs around camp, but mostly I’ll hang out in my room alone or outside drawing. I prefer painting, but the supplies are too bulky to pack and bring here. Still, when I have a paint brush or a pencil in my hand, I’m happy and at peace. There’s no one that can take that from me, especially not any of the bitchy girls on campus who still aren’t any nicer after I let Garrett down gently Monday morning.
Actually, I think I may have been wrong about no one taking away my peace; because when I open the door to walk back into my room, I find it’s now been occupied by Royal Fitzpatrick.
He’s stretched out on top of my bed, back to the headboard with his legs crossed at the ankles while he casually flips through my sketch pad with a smirk on his handsome face. He doesn’t even lift his head in my direction when I quickly shut the door behind me before one of the counselors sees him in my room and I get into trouble too.
“What the heck are you doing in here?” I whisper to him while clutching the front of the towel that’s wrapped around my chest with one hand and holding my pink shower caddy in the other. “You need to leave!” I hiss at him.
“Roses? Vases? Dogs? Your drawings are just as safe and boring as you are,” he mutters while still eying the pages. “Can’t say I’m all that surprised, though.”
“Put that down and get out!” I huff as tears sting my eyes thanks to his harsh criticism of something of mine that’s so private. “Why are you in my room, going through my personal things? Get out, you jerk!”
“And there it is! Finally,” he says with a triumphant sneer before he finally lifts his whiskey-colored eyes to look at me. For a second, his evil grin falters as his gaze sweeps up and down my body that’s covered by way too little cloth. At least all the important bits are concealed. Not that you would know that based on the way he keeps staring at me like I’m stark naked. I even glance down to double check that my towel is still in place just to make sure.
Finding everything covered, I set my shower caddy down on the dresser just so I can hold the towel with two hands to be certain it stays in place.
Wait, what the heck did Royal just say?
“There-there what is?” I ask him hesitantly.
His tongue swipes over his bottom lip before he clears his throat and looks back down at my sketch book.
“You got angry and raised your voice. I finally got through that Mother Teresa act of yours.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply in confusion.
“You think you’re holier than thou just like everyone else in this place.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Sure you do,” he says as he slams the sketch book closed and looks up at me again, this time right in my eyes. “It’s why you love doing all the bullshit around here with poor, old and sick people.”
“I do it because I like helping them, not because I think I’m better than they are or that I think I’m better than anyone!”
“No, you don’t,” he responds like he knows me better than I know myself. “No one likes getting their hands dirty. They do it because they have to or because they get something in return for it.”
“Not me,” I argue. “Now give me my book and get out before a counselor finds out you’re in my room!”
“Why? Are you afraid of getting in a little trouble? Having your reputation smeared?”
“I’m afraid of getting in trouble for something that’s entirely your fault! If anyone sees you in here and reports it, they’ll think we were…”
“Were what?” he asks.
“You know what,” I whisper.
“Fucking?” Royal says, making me cringe at the derogatory term before I nod my head. “Okay, I’ll give you your book back and leave if you do one little thing for me.”
“What’s that?” I ask, ready to do almost anything to get him out of here.
“Flash me your tits.”
I gasp at his offensive request before scoffing. “No way!”
“Then I guess I’ll stay, and you’ll never see this book again.”
When he waves my sketch pad up in the air, I make a lunge for it. I get my hand on it, but Royal, who has two free hands, easily overpowers me and jerks it away, mostly because of my modesty, fearing my towel will fall. He then rolls off the other side of the bed and stands up on the opposite side. He grins from ear to ear before strolling over to the open window and holding my book out of it.
“You wouldn’t!” I challenge him, which is of course the wrong thing to say.
“Of course I would. You know I’ll drop it too. So, just show me your tits and I’ll leave you with your pathetic little drawings and be on my way.”
“No,” I refuse again, because I won’t ever do that.
“Then I guess you’ll never see your book again.”
The two of us then stare each other down for several silent moments before Royal glances away to look out the
window.
“Oh yeah, there’s a pond right outside too!” he says gleefully. “If I drop it, then the whole thing will be ruined. Your charcoal sketches will disappear like they never existed.”
“Please don’t,” I beg.
“Three…two…” he starts counting down, but my mind has already been made up. “One.”
* * *
Royal
Goddamn it. Hannah doesn’t even budge at my threat. She’s going to be tougher to crack than I thought. I really wanted to see her bare tits, especially after noticing the way her nipples are so damn hard I can make out the little points through her cotton towel. But I’ll still enjoy seeing the look on her face when I destroy what I’m guessing is one of her most prized possessions. My father is right, I’m an evil bastard who came by it honest.
I let go of the corner of the book and watch her face as it drops, waiting for her to freak out.
Hannah doesn’t even blink. She just glares at me with her jaw clenched tight. It’s sort of disappointing that she’s still pretty even when she’s pissed.
“Now will you please leave me alone?” she asks.
She doesn’t even yell the words. She asks. Calmly, even adding the word please.
Why won’t she fucking break already?
Unsure of my next move after not getting the reaction I wanted, I glance around the room, refusing to leave just yet. Again, I notice the empty twin bed with no sheets or pillows on it. “Why don’t you have a roommate?”
“I-I don’t know,” she stammers, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
“Sure you do,” I reply while crossing my arms over my chest to lean my back against the open window. “Everyone has at least one roommate, some have three in double bunk rooms. I got stuck with fucking Garrett who snores like a goddamn grizzly bear every night. So, how did you luck up and get a room all to yourself?”