The short-and-sweet sandal-appropriate camp tour Jenna was planning to give was hijacked by Cooper, the senior in charge of the Hedgehog counselors, who I suspect has a soft spot for her and asked to combine tours. That’s sweet and all, but thanks to Cooper and his enthusiasm, our tour took two hours longer than everyone else’s and I feel like I’ve seen every blade of grass at Honey Acres.
The long walk gave us the chance to talk to the other counselors, except Russ, who kept himself up front, talking to Xander, the same guy he was with earlier.
“Yes, that’s where I went wrong. Not enough small-town romances.” She wiggles her toes in the sand that borders the shore of the lake, commonly referred to as the beach, where we’ve commandeered two deck chairs to people watch. “I’m going to sit on the dock and dip my feet in the water, do you want to come or guard the seats?”
“I’ll stay here.” Our seats have the perfect spot to people watch and it’s fun seeing who is drawn to each other and make predictions on who will get close. It was funny listening to Orla talk earlier about how fraternization is prohibited, knowing nobody is going to listen to it. When I was a camper here, we would all speculate who was secretly kissing after hours. Then annoy the hell out of our counselors to tell us the adult gossip.
My favorite thing to do now I’m a counselor myself is to watch the dogs inspect everyone, occasionally sitting down to be petted, before moving on. I love dogs, which is exactly why I’m watching one of the puppies sleep on Russ as he laughs and chats with Maya from our group, while Fish and the other puppy sleep at his feet.
“Anyone sitting here?”
Looking behind me, I find Clay, the third guy in our group standing barefoot in the sand, holding two beers. “Not right now, but she’ll be back soon.” I point in the direction of Emilia, chatting with someone on the dock. “Take a seat.”
Sitting beside me, he holds out one of the beer bottles. “Beer?”
Although Orla does her best to enforce the no drinking rule, short of inspecting everyone’s bag when they arrive, there isn’t a way for her to stop people sneaking it in for training week. I assume she knows, but is less strict as there are no children around currently. What she does take very seriously is campers sneaking in alcohol, which I found out the hard way when I was fifteen. “No, thanks. I’m, uh, I’m trying not to break all the rules on day one.” Or massively piss off Jenna.
Clay shrugs as he puts the spare beer in the drink holder. “We never get caught. I’ve been here before. But you’re right, we have plenty of time to break the rules.”
He launches into a tale about being a counselor and I’m struggling to follow along. Not because I’m not smart enough, just because it’s really, really boring. By the time he’s moved on to talking about playing basketball at Berkeley （or was it USC?）， he’s totally lost me.
It’s not his fault that my mind is elsewhere and I’m sure he’s not used to women zoning out when he’s trying to talk to them. He’s attractive by conventional standards: tall, sharp jaw, nice eyes and smile. Not a huge fan of the amount of gel he uses to slick back his hair, but mainly because there’s so much, I’m concerned there’s going to be a pollution incident if he jumps into the lake. And I could do without the way his eyes drop to my chest when I’m talking, but he’s not the worst guy who’s ever tried to befriend me.
Normally I’d take the attention he’s showing me and run with it, but I find his confidence off putting and his proclivity for bragging hard to listen to. I hook up with one quiet guy and suddenly I don’t like confident basketball players? The matrix is glitching.
My eyes wander across the beach and the dogs look super comfortable as Maya brushes something from Russ’s shoulder, smiling at him sweetly. The puppy on his lap doesn’t even stir when he shuffles in his seat and rubs the back of his neck with his palm.
“I will have that beer actually,” I say, interrupting Clay telling me how much he can bench.
“Oh, sweet. Here . . .”
At least it’s still a bit cold. “Thanks. Nice chatting with you.”
I don’t hear if he responds as I stand and rush over toward Emilia on the dock. Her eyebrows pinch together as she sees me approach. “What happened to our seats?” She spots the beer in my hand. “And becoming a changed woman?”
She accepts it from me, taking a sip as I take the seat beside her, dipping my feet into the water. “I’m starting tomorrow. Too many things to be irritated about today to overhaul my life.”