“Again?”
“S-t-a-y?” he fingerspells.
“Right, stay.” I smile. “Maybe . . . ”
To sweeten the deal, Isaac stands, reaches into his backpack, and pulls out his beach towel, resting it across the drenched bench for me. He also rips a few blank pieces of paper from a beat-up sketchbook and crumples them in his hand, stepping back into the circle to toss them under the big logs. He picks up a lighter that’s been sitting by my foot, dries it off with the edge of the towel, then squats by the fire like a little green frog.
Flames consume the kindling, and soon, a proper fire is burning. Isaac jumps up, holding both arms out to the pit, showing off his creation. He bends down again to carefully fan the flames, throwing a few more pieces of crumpled paper inside.
“Nice work,” I sign. I can’t stop staring, totally amused, so I gesture toward his outfit. “Where’d you get this?”
“I don’t know, it’s so old.”
He sits beside me, and I lean away, thinking the water droplets I felt were from his poncho, but it turns out the rain is picking back up. Isaac quickly undoes a few of the plastic buttons on the side of his poncho. He throws the dismantled green sheet over both our heads and backs, so we both huddle together.
“I thought the rain was almost finished . . . ” I sign, but I don’t really mind, because we’re pretty cozy at the moment.
“Whoops, hopefully soon,” he signs one-handed. He looks back at the fire. “Still going!”
“For now.” I glance around, realizing Isaac and I have been alone for a while. “Where’s Ethan?”
“I don’t know.” But Isaac doesn’t look around. Instead, he crosses his legs and spins his body on the bench to sit and face me. But he doesn’t say anything. Does he want to tell me something?
I wait as long as I can comfortably bear him looking at me, until I sign with a smile, “What’s up?”
He shrugs. “Long rainy day.”
I nod in agreement.
“So many bracelets!” He holds up an entire arm’s worth of about twenty dangling bracelets, which were not-quite-skillfully threaded by his campers. I take a moment to brag and show off my equally large collection.
“My camper Honey made, like, eight of these,” I sign.
He points to the one made of colorful duct tape and raises his eyebrows in question.
“Oh,” I say. “I made that one. Looks okay?”
“Nice.” He smiles, running his fingers over the smooth weaving. “You’ll have to make me one.”
I press my lips together, trying to not look too eager. “Sure, I will.”
He peers out from under our cover to look back at the sky. “I want it to finish!” He looks back at me, his eyes wide with sincerity. “If we have to play more indoor games tomorrow . . .” He shakes his head. “No, thank you. But,” he starts with a sparkle in his eyes, “I’ll beat you every time in Honey, If You Love Me now.”
“No, no, no,” I sign, tapping my fingers together close to his face. “When we play again, I’ll win.”
“Really? Are you sure?” He squares his shoulders toward me again and leans forward. I can see his breath in the cold air. “Honey . . . if you—”
“Noooo . . . ” I do the motion once but hold the O-shape on my mouth. Then, I start chuckling.
“See, I win again.”
“I wasn’t playing,” I say and sign, making no effort to stop my laughter.
Ethan is still nowhere to be seen. Maybe he wasn’t planning to come back. Somehow, the fire is still burning—a small light in the darkness of overcast clouds. It gives the illusion that we’re nestled in a small space rather than in a wide patch of field. It’s just me and Isaac. And we’ll be on duty again tomorrow night. Perhaps we’ll be alone then, too.
“What’s up?” It’s Isaac’s turn to sign. We’re back to this. I laugh and face the fire, but he waves at me. “What?”
“What what?”
“No, that’s my question.” He smiles.
“I’m asking, too.”
He tilts his head, dropping an arm and letting his hand graze my knee. The fire pops, sending a few sparks toward us. He looks to make sure none landed on me before meeting my eyes once again.
“You know, right,” I sign, adding the part that I’m nervous to share with a mumble, “that I like you.”
Isaac watches my lips closely, and his eyes go wide.
He has to know already. Oh gosh, my heart is beating so fast now. Did I just make a huge mistake?
“Can you say that again?” His hands are shaking a little. He seems to be holding his breath.
“Never mind! Look, your fire’s still going.” I turn away, briefly hide my face.
But he reaches out and nudges for me to face him. “But I know what?”
“Um.” He’s going to make me say it again. And I do actually know all the signs to put together this sentence.
Is it too soon to tell Isaac how I feel? Is it too soon to even be having these feelings? I just don’t know. Time is warped at summer camp. Have we been here only a few days or a few weeks, really? It also feels like it’s been ages. The boundaries and barriers of everyday life don’t exist. And, heck, I even bunked in the bed above him the first week, so that brought us instantly close.
But all this won’t last forever. There’s a limited number of camp weeks. Then it’s over.
With this timeline, maybe it isn’t far-fetched for me to admit my feelings so plainly. I could wait around and hope for something to happen. Or I could say something. He probably feels the same way I do.
The game. The hug at the pool. Reaching for my hand at the drive-through. Sitting so close to each other right now.
“What?” he asks again, leaning even closer.
My hand is shaking as I draw it to my chest. “I think I . . . ” He’s hanging on to every word. “I think I like you.”
That’s when Isaac smiles. And my heart is ready to burst.
But then he furrows his eyebrows, and his hands start flying, signing so fast I’m completely lost.
“Ah, sorry, what?” I say. “Slow, please, sorry, again.”
“We not ——。”
“We not?” I immediately slide out from under the poncho and stand in the rain.
He jumps up and shakes his head, wanting to further clarify.
“D-o-n-t,” he spells.
“Don’t?”
He nods. Crap, where is this going? Why did I say anything? I’m ready to run away, but he waves for me to stay.
“We don’t really know,” he signs, gesturing from me to himself.
I can’t believe this is happening. I totally read this all wrong, and he must not feel as I thought. I’m so embarrassed I can’t even look at him.
“We don’t really know each other?” I ask. Isaac reads my lips and nods.
I must’ve caught him off guard, but why is he being so confusing? I turn to walk away, but he reaches forward and taps my arm. “Y-e-t.”
“So, you don’t . . . like me?” I say. The words must come at a whisper, but it doesn’t matter. My arms feel too heavy to match with sign.