“He’s just shy, Ror,” Emilia says carefully, handing me back my beer.
I turn to look at her, confused. “Clay is not shy. Shy people don’t talk to your breasts.”
Her eyes roll. “You know who I’m talking about. The one you keep looking at.”
Looking over my shoulder back toward the beach, Russ is still talking to Maya and Xander has joined them. “I’m looking at the dogs,” I argue. “But, if you’re talking about Russ . . . well, he’s not too shy to talk to other people, is he?”
“Just go over and talk to him.”
“And let him ignore me with an audience? No thanks.”
“Maya is homesick, he’s probably just trying to make her feel better.”
“I know, I chatted with her while you were on the phone to Poppy. She lives near the Fenrir UK base but a few of her friends from home are here too. Look, it’s not important, he can talk to whoever he wants, I’m not trying to be that person. It just sort of sucks that I seem to be the only person he doesn’t want to talk to, y’know? I’m beginning to think maybe I got played and he’s not as nice as he seems.”
“You didn’t. But if you did, who cares? You hooked up, you’ll move on like you always do.” Emilia wraps her arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer, resting her head against mine as I swallow a glug of the now warm beer. “If you make me listen to you complain about a man all summer, I will tell your mom you’re moving back home.”
“I won’t. I told you, from tomorrow I’m going to be a new woman.”
Chapter Nine
AURORA
Why is saying you’re going to work on yourself easier than working on yourself?
I want to leave my self-destructive habits behind and yet here I am—day one of Project Aurora, cellphone in hand, watching Norah’s story knowing it’s going to upset me.
And it is upsetting me. My manifestation technique requires some work because Dad’s team smashed the Spanish Grand Prix and he’s super happy about it. Which I know from the sweet videos Norah posted of him celebrating with her daughter at his house.
Stuffing my cellphone into the back pocket of my shorts, I try to forget about the perfect family I’m not part of and speed walk in the direction of the fire safety training, which I’m already running late for.
While the team building exercises take place in larger groups across roles, all our specific training is done in our group of six, making it impossible to sneak in undetected.
“You are’—Jenna looks at her watch—’six minutes late, Rory.”
Normally I wouldn’t care about being late, but feeling everyone’s eyes on me is making the blood rush to my cheeks. Well, all but one person. I mutter a “sorry” quietly and keep my head down as I fill the empty seat between Emilia and Clay. He leans in, lowering his voice. “You haven’t missed anything. Basically, fire is bad.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” I fight the urge to chuckle and try to concentrate on Jenna starting with the evacuation drill procedure. He offers me a grape from the bag in his hand, which, after yesterday, feels a little like a gesture of goodwill.
Jenna is busy explaining the campfire rules, when I feel a tugging on my foot. Looking to the floor, there appears to be a ball of fluff chewing on my shoelaces. Picking up the chubby puppy, I turn the tag toward me. “Which one are you?” Salmon. “Where’s your brother, little girl?”
As soon as I look up, I spot Trout cradled like a baby, snoozing on Russ’s chest. Oh man, this is not fair. I can’t drag my eyes away from the cuteness, which is a mistake, because when Russ finally looks up from the sleeping dog, he looks right at me.
We stare at each other and it’s as awkward and weird as it sounds, right until Salmon decides to chomp on the ends of my hair, distracting me. When I look back at him, he’s focused on whatever Jenna is saying.
The rest of the training flies by without any further staring contests and by the time we’re all walking across the main lawn on our way to our teambuilding activity, I’m feeling better than I was a couple of hours ago, snooping where I shouldn’t be snooping.
“I’ve decided I don’t care,” I announce to Emilia.
“That’s good,” she says nonchalantly, trying not to trip over Salmon who’s weaving around our feet as we walk, trying once again to eat shoelaces. “What are you talking about exactly?”
“Everything.”