“You didn’t have to do that, Ror.” Gift giving is this awkward thing between Emilia and I that we dance around. Usually I go too far and she has to give me a lecture about me not needing to buy her love and how calling something a love language doesn’t give me a free pass to do what I want. “But thank you so much.”
“You’ve been very understanding this summer while I’ve been . . . preoccupied.”
“Sorry, do we need to recap all of my relationships you’ve held my hand through? The late night pickups? Not judging me when I got back together with Sawyer for like the third time?”
“We don’t have enough time to recap; you have to catch a flight to London tomorrow morning.”
She hits my arm playfully. “You deserve someone who looks at you like you’re the only thing on this entire planet. I would move a million days off if you got to be happy. You needed someone to prove to you that you’re worth it and, for what it’s worth, I’m glad it’s Russ. Even if he is a man.”
“Jesus Christ, Emilia. You know being sad makes me horny.”
“You are so fucking weird sometimes. Come on, my little lovebug. Time to say goodbye to Honey Acres for a year.”
Things are eerily quiet as we all sit around the fire next to the lake, full from eating the pizza Orla bought for us to say thank you for all our hard work. The chefs at camp are excellent, but there’s something about a veggie pizza from Dom’s Pizzeria in Meadow Springs that can’t be beaten.
After we waved off our campers, we got to work putting away the various equipment around the site for next summer. Emilia and I had to do double the work because Russ and Xander spent an hour having an emotional goodbye with Fish, Salmon and Trout. I think it got to the point where even the dogs were over it before the guys were.
After Orla’s closing meeting earlier, we’re officially not employees anymore and she finished by saying she didn’t want to find any beer bottles tomorrow morning. My eyebrow quirked and Jenna immediately rolled her eyes at me before mouthing “free pass.”
The beer run is done in record time and while I’d normally be the first person to grab a drink and initiate a drinking game, I’m perfectly happy curled up on Russ’s lap in our camping chair trying to eat the last of the gelatin-free marshmallows without covering us both in graham crackers.
“Are you boring now?” Emilia asks, sipping her beer from the chair beside us. I know she’s joking but it doesn’t stop me from giving her the finger.
“Forgive me for not wanting to be hungover when I face my dad tomorrow,” I grumble, rolling my eyes. “And what happened to don’t be peer pressured by your friends? Stop peer pressuring me to be irresponsible with you.”
Russ kisses my shoulder and continues to rub his hand up and down my shin. He doesn’t need to say anything, but I know he’s proud of me because it was fifty-fifty whether I was going to go off the rails today.
Nobody batted an eyelid when I crawled into Russ’s lap earlier and he kissed my forehead. I was a little offended by their lack of surprise, before Emilia pointed out I’m naturally as discreet as a blaring fire alarm. But then I saw Clay’s jaw drop, someone who has spent most days with us for weeks—and my ego got a boost.
Fire alarm, my ass.
He’s stayed away from us this evening, opting to get drunk with Maya and her hometown friends instead. Can’t say I’m mad about it because I love my little trio and it means I don’t have to turn down Cabo again.
“Should I transfer to Maple Hills for a laugh?” Xander says, swigging his beer bottle. “It doesn’t feel right for me to separate the dream team. How will you all get anything done?”
“Who’s the dream team?” Emilia teases.
“We’re the dream team, Emilia. You know what, forget it. I’ll stay at Stanford.”
I lick the chocolate and marshmallow that’s spilled out of my s’more from my fingers and Russ buries his head into my neck, whispering “stop it.” I ignore him, wiggling a little to pretend to get comfortable, only to feel his fingers dig into my side making me squirm and giggle. Xander frowns as his eyes flick between us both. “Are you two even listening? Disgusting. God bless the no fraternization rule. I’d have thrown myself into a septic tank if I had to watch this every night.”
“I’m listening,” Russ says, clearing his throat and wrapping his arms around me. “Doesn’t your dad work at UCMH? Didn’t you tell me that when we first met? You don’t wanna play basketball with your brother, right?”