“Our dogs.”
He leans against the wall beside me. “It’s always the quiet ones.”
“I haven’t even done anything.” Don’t look at him. “It’s all in your imagination.”
“Oh cool, my bad. I’ll let Clay know he’s got a shot with her then.”
The words almost refuse to come out of my mouth. “Yeah, you should.”
Xander snorts, punching me in the shoulder gently. “Your secret is safe with me. They don’t call me an unproblematic king for nothing.”
This time I can’t help but look at him as my eyebrows pinch together. I take the bait. “Who calls you an unproblematic king?”
“I do.”
“Okay, unproblematic king. I’ll be near the tennis court if you want me.” Collecting my equipment, I head to my project for the rest of the morning. One of our responsibilities this week is getting the camp ready for the campers and this chill morning activity is a nice change of pace from the constant training and icebreakers.
Nobody has asked me to share about myself, I don’t have to remember which order to tie something together, or what to do if someone stops breathing. I’m painting fence panels and dragging furniture and wiping stuff down and, other than Xander, nobody has been bothering me.
I feel good after my talk with Aurora earlier and I’m less worried about how I’m going to get through the summer with her.
“Birds are gross.” Turning toward the voice, I lower the hose I’m using to wash down a picnic table some birds have made their personal toilet. Aurora looks more alive than she did earlier, carrying a thermos in each hand, with a shy smile on her lips. “I brought you coffee. If you want it, obviously.”
I’ve watched her do sweet gestures for people since we got here. Filling up everyone’s water bottles, being the first to help people struggling during training, distracting Maya from her homesickness. Now I’ve earned the same treatment. “Coffee is good, thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she says, handing it over. “I thought you might need it. I saw you running super early this morning; I forgot to mention it earlier. You don’t sleep much, huh?”
Running is something I hate but it’s one of the only things I can do to clear my head. Like Xander said when we arrived, occasionally your phone comes to life and messages come through. This morning, my mind was already working overtime after dealing with drunk Aurora, so when it started buzzing in the early hours I checked it.
The first thing I saw was a picture of my parents out for dinner, smiling into the camera like nothing’s wrong. That triggered my curiosity and I started to scroll up, eventually piecing together that Dad had won big somewhere and they were celebrating.
Dad’s addiction issue has never been with alcohol; it’s gambling. The alcohol consoles him after losing and like most gambling addicts, he loses a lot. It’s the alcohol that turns him nasty and that’s when the texts he sends me start to change into something harsher. When he’s on a winning streak, he’s a different man, but streaks are what gamblers say is happening to make it seem like some kind of skill and not purely a series of lucky occurrences.
Aurora is still waiting for me to answer.
Talking about my parents feels like opening pandora’s box. I sometimes wonder if the load would feel as heavy if I had someone to confide in, but I can’t bring myself to tell anyone. Even though Henry knows my history, I still find it difficult to tell him as stuff happens. It’s embarrassing to admit that my own dad doesn’t care about me as much as he cares about betting slips.
I settle for my default vague answer. “Not much, no. I’m used to it though, don’t worry. I can’t believe you were up early enough to see me.”
She takes the flask back, her hand brushing mine ever so slightly, just enough to send sparks up my arms and places them on the now clean table. I watch her as she methodically unscrews and presses buttons until she’s poured me a cup. “Would you believe me if I told you I was meditating?”
“No.” I accept the coffee cup back, watching her over the rim as I take a sip.
“I was sick. That’s why I was awake so early.” she says, laughing awkwardly. “I like to think it was food poisoning and not the excessive amount of tequila I drank last night. You may remember it; I was the one making a fool of myself in front of you.”
“I do vaguely remember having to decline your skinny-dipping offer.”
Her cheeks flush pink, eyes widen. God, it feels good to not be the one blushing for once. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find a hungry raccoon and feed myself to it. Bye.”