Wildfire (Maple Hills, #2)(39)
I nod. “I was tutored when I was younger because we traveled with my dad’s job. I didn’t have school plays and talent shows. This was the only chance I had and it made me feel less lonely.”
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Promise?” I ask, holding out my pinky. “You have to come to all the rehearsals.”
He links his with mine. “Promise.”
“That was Aurora’s really wholesome way of emotionally blackmailing you into participating, Russ, and you fell for it,” Emilia says. “Have you considered showing hockey through the medium of contemporary dance?”
“You’re the goalie, right?” His distress switches to surprise and he nods. “I’ll throw stuff at you and you can block it. There. Talent.”
Dragging a hand through his hair, it travels to the back of his neck, digging his fingers into his skin to ease out tension. “Why does this feel like you just want to throw stuff at me?”
“You know her so well,” Emilia jokes, turning her back to us to watch the kids dancing around again.
Russ smiles, the dimples of his cheeks making me lose my train of thought until he speaks again. “Maybe that’s my talent.”
“You don’t need to feel nervous,” I say quietly so only he can hear me.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
After a week of settling in, camp is in full swing and my soccer elective sign-up sheet is almost full. I’m buzzing with excitement.
Following lunch and breaktime, the campers get to pick how they want to spend their afternoon, by signing up for different counselor-led activities. After having their morning decided for them, this gives the kids a chance to do things more suited to their personal preferences.
The only thing I’ve ever been good at is getting myself into trouble, but Jenna said I wasn’t allowed to put that down as an option. I thought about doubling up with Emilia to offer dance, but she immediately told me to get my uncoordinated body away from her studio. So I’m teaching soccer because it’s pretty hard for me to screw that up.
It’s near impossible to not have a good understanding of it when you spent your childhood around as many English men as I did. I just need to act confident and the kids will think I’m actually good at it.
I know my nearly-full sign-up doesn’t really mean anything, but there’s something soothing about knowing you’re offering an activity they like and are excited about. And I know it’s not about me, it’s about the fact they want to play soccer, but it feels a little about me and I’m happy they like me enough to want to choose to spend time learning from me.
Even if I’m about to make it up as I go.
Russ approaches as I’m spacing the colorful markers across the grass. “You need help?”
“You’re supposed to be enjoying your day off.”
Cool and calm. Don’t get distracted by how pretty he is.
“I am enjoying my day off.” His lips tug at the side, dimples appearing. “And I’m excited to learn about soccer.”
He picks up a handful of markers from the stand and begins copying me, placing them on the floor at the right distance for kids to dribble a ball between. I repeat “cool and calm” in my head as he picks up the agility ladder and begins to spread it next to where I’ve already put the others. I’m making a conscious effort not to fill silences with nonsense because Russ is a quiet guy and I’m scared he’ll get tired of me, but every quiet second feels like a missed opportunity to open him up a bit.
Plus, when I’m around him, I truly have no idea what’s going to come out of my mouth.
That said, I have nothing of value to say, so I settle for small talk, which some would argue is worse than rambling. “Where’s your lover?”
“She’s asleep in my cabin. It’s too hot for her, but it’s pretty cool down there.”
My head whips up so quickly my neck crunches. “Wait, what?”
Russ stops what he’s doing and there’s a moment where we just stare at each other. He’s trying to work out why I’m confused and I’m trying to work out if he’s really telling me what I think he’s telling me. Jumping to conclusions is silly, but I don’t exactly pride myself on my levelheadedness.
He moves closer, until he’s standing right in front of me, the soft smile from earlier is still there. “Rory, I’m talking about Fish. Were you talking about Xander?”
Okay, see? This is a learning experience. “Yeah, I thought . . . I was trying not to jump . . . yeah. Yeah, I was talking about Xander.”
He’s trying not to laugh at me, which I appreciate because I’m trying to work out the best hiding place on site; I’ve found tons of great hiding places over the years, he’d never find me. I could live peacefully with the animals, like Snow White.
“He’s having a nap with the dogs. I didn’t change my entire personality and start fucking random women I work with in the middle of the day.”
The way he says fucking random women makes me feel strange, it sounds alien coming from his mouth.
“I thought you might be ready to say fuck the rules. It’s hard work being good all the time.” It’s not that hard now I’m trying. It took getting drunk and hearing how committed Russ is to keeping this job to make me realize I needed to uphold the commitments I made to myself when I got here.