: Chapter 20

“WHAT’S A GIRL GOT TO do to be kissed around here?” I grumble as I help Emilia load a serving tray with hot chocolate. The rain has been on and off since it started this afternoon, unusual for this time of year in California and wholly inconvenient for me, since it forced Russ and me to run back to camp. According to Alexander I-Know-Everything Smith, it’s something to do with a remnant of a tropical storm being dragged north and we’re set to have terrible weather for the next twelve hours. I hate thunder and lightning, so knowing Emilia will be watching the kids tonight and I’ll be in our cabin alone fills me with dread. Therefore, I’ve spent the past twenty minutes complaining to my entirely unbothered best friend.

“What happened to sticking to the rules, so you get to sleep peacefully at night knowing you didn’t contribute to someone getting fired?”

“I don’t think I said that.”

Her eyes narrow as she tries to intimidate me into a confession. “I know for a fact you don’t remember everything your rambling ass says, but I do. You definitely said it at least five times. I think I preferred when you were wild. I heard about it less.”

Flicking her forehead with one hand, I throw a marshmallow into my mouth with the other. Emilia can complain all she wants. I’ve liked one guy in our entire friendship; she has been single collectively for about four days in as many years, and I’ve lived through every stage of every relationship.

She owes me after I had to deal with one obsessed girl who turned out to be a drug dealer with scary friends.

“I don’t know how to feel my feelings. It’s like the opposite of the feeling scaries. What do I do?”

“You like him, like him? You don’t just like that he gives you attention? And because you know he likes you, too, and therefore won’t reject you?”

“I like him, like him. I think he’s a nice guy and he makes me laugh. He makes me feel seen and I don’t want to fuck it up because I don’t know how to be a functional adult. Why haven’t you made me go to therapy yet? You’re a bad friend.”

“What happened to ‘I don’t need to pay a therapist to tell me I have daddy issues’?” she says, rolling her eyes. “Okay, you want my advice? You’re not going to like it…”

“I’m ready. Tell me.”

“You need to wait until we’re back in Maple Hills. See how you feel when you get your freedom back and the camp goggles are gone.”

“Ugh,” I groan. “That’s terrible advice. Why won’t you just enable me?”

“Because I love you. Now move,” she orders, picking up the hot chocolate tray and nodding to the other one. “If you’re going to be annoying, at least be helpful.”

I try to be helpful, but my mind is working overtime this evening. Between the storm and Russ, I have too much nervous energy. I swear time is moving slower than normal, so I decide to do the one thing that can zap my energy like nothing else.

Leaning against the wall beside the communal phone in the main building so I don’t have to go outside in the rain and get my cell phone from my cabin, I count the rings as I wait for my mom to pick up. I’ve tried to remember to call weekly, but the days are so busy here and a week passes in the blink of an eye, so I haven’t been great at remembering.

She’s pissed about it. She makes it clear she’s upset she’s not a higher priority every time I do remember to call. The rings are running out and I know this call is close to going to voice mail because she’s screening me. She thinks she’s making a point, but in reality, I don’t care if she doesn’t answer because at least I can say I’ve tried.

“Hello?” She says it like she hasn’t gotten every number associated with this camp saved in her phone.

“Hi! It’s me.” I force as much enthusiasm as I can into my voice. “Just checking in.”

“Oh,” she says casually. “Hello.”

“How are you?”

“I’m fine. Now isn’t a good time for me, Aurora. I’m very busy.”

It’s a Thursday evening and there’s a storm. What could she be busy with? She doesn’t go outside when it’s raining; she doesn’t like risking ruining her blowout. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, now you’re interested in talking to me, are you?” I can feel all the nervous energy from earlier being drained. Like somehow this very predictable interaction has recalibrated me. “I can’t just drop everything because you’re suddenly free to talk to me.”

“I totally understand, Mom. We can catch up another time.” There’s shuffling on her end of the phone and I hear something purr. “Wait, is that a cat?”

More shuffling. “Yes, it’s a cat.”

I feel like I’m being pranked. I look around the empty room, checking to see if Emilia is somewhere in the shadows waiting to jump out on me. “Whose cat is it?”

“It’s my cat.”

“You don’t have a cat. Do you even like cats?”

“I like this cat because it’s mine. I rescued him.”

A vision of my mom becoming a cat lady and filling her massive house with them comes into my mind. “From where?”

“He joined me for breakfast on the deck one day. I gave him some of my smoked salmon, because he looked hungry, and he kept coming back, so I let him in the house. I’ve decided to keep him.”

I rest my forehead against the wall, the phone pressed close to my ear. “Did he have a collar?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t very nice. I got him a new one from Louis Vuitton. You can meet him if you decide to do that long, hard drive you love to complain about.”

I reserve the right to always complain about LA traffic, and she can’t guilt that out of me. “Mom! You’ve stolen someone’s pet!”

“I rescued him, Aurora. He’s perfectly happy here with me.” The purring on the other end of the line increases, and part of me considers she’s tricking me into visiting her just to see if she’s actually stolen someone’s cat.

“You need to check the old collar for a number! I know the only thing you like to listen to is the ocean and Chuck Roberts slander, but somewhere in Malibu, if you listen very closely, there’s a child crying for their beloved family pet.”

“You’re being very dramatic today, darling. Are you on your period?”

Give me strength. “No.”

“Did you see that your father is spending summer break on the yacht with the weather girl and her family?” she says casually. “Elsa is very unhappy about it all. She wanted to go to Monaco.”

“Mom, where exactly would I have seen that? I’m in the middle of nowhere with next to no service trying to keep twenty kids safe,” I say with a huff. I’m not surprised that’s what he’s doing, and the way it doesn’t tear me up immediately is liberating. I wouldn’t go so far to say I hope they have a nice time, but I’m perfectly happy where I am.

“I don’t know what you do with your time, Aurora. You don’t tell me anything. I really do need to go, it’s time for Cat to have his dinner.”

“You called him Cat?”

“What else was I supposed to call him? He’s a cat. Good-bye, darling. Don’t forget to call again.”

I walk back in a daze to where everyone is watching a film, and by the time Emilia and Xander are rounding up the Brown Bears for bed, I still haven’t processed my mom replacing me with a stolen cat.

Temporary respite from my mom’s attention happens occasionally when she finds a new interest. Wine tasting, Pilates, a property developer called Jack—but never a pet. As weird as it is, I’m kind of happy she isn’t in that house alone anymore.

“WHAT IF I JUST SLEEP in your bed with you?” I ask Emilia.

“What if you just sleep in your bed alone?” she counters. There are two bedrooms attached to the kids’ cabin for the counselors doing night duty, and as spacious as the kids area is, the same cannot be said for the adjoining rooms. “It’s a storm. You’ll survive. You know what I won’t survive? Sharing that tiny bed with you.”

“You can sleep in the world’s tiniest bed with me, Ror,” Xander teases. “I volunteer because I’m such a good friend.”

I roll my eyes at him, knowing full well if I ever took him up on that offer he would run for the hills. “Hard pass, but thanks.”

It was here during a particularly bad storm that my fear started. Dry lightning caused a wildfire not far from Orla’s land and we almost needed to be evacuated. Thankfully, the fire service got it under control. I was so young, and ever since then, they’ve always freaked me out.

I’m helping Freya into her raincoat when the doors open and Russ strolls through them in sweatpants and a Brown Bear sweatshirt. He shakes the rain from his hair and scans the room, his eyes eventually landing on me. He smiles as soon as he spots me and I can’t stop the wide grin on my face. God, I need to get a grip. Freya coughs loudly, dragging my attention back to her. “Is Russ your boyfriend?”

If this is Leon’s bullshit again I swear he’s going to get locked outside next time I’m on night duty. “No. He is a boy who is a friend. He isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Then why do you always spend your days off together?”

“Do you like spending your time with your friends?” I ask her, pulling her hood over her brown curls. “Because I do, and that’s why I spend my days off with them.”

“I’m not a baby, you know,” she says. “And I can keep a secret.”

“There aren’t any secrets here, silly girl. Now, go and get into the line, please.”

“Okay,” she says, a hint of defeat in her voice. “But Russ looks at you the way my dad looks at my papa when he isn’t looking, so I think he might love you.”

“Good night, Freya,” I groan.

It’s an unwritten rule at camp that you will be terrorized by your campers about potential love interests. I know that because I was once the person doing all the terrorizing.

The smart thing to do is forget about it, because who would trust the opinion of a small child? And yet here I am, wondering exactly how Freya’s dads look at each other.

Thankfully, no other kids decide to pry into my life, and Russ stays far enough away from me that he doesn’t give Leon and his rumor mill any more material. I haven’t seen Russ since our almost-kiss, swiftly followed by running from the rain earlier.

I really thought he was going to do it this time. We were so close and his hands on me felt right, but I suppose unlike me, he knows how to exercise restraint. I wasn’t expecting to have a wild summer filled with hookups, for obvious reasons, but surely no one will die if we have one tiny little kiss.

If he wants to fuck me against a tree, I could also be convinced to get on board.

God, I wish I’d brought my vibrator.

“You look like you’re thinking hard about something,” Russ laughs, filling the empty spot beside me. “What’s up?”

“Forgot my vibrator.” I freeze and make the smart choice not to look at him and see the aftermath of my words. His ears are definitely pink; I don’t even need to look at him to check. I just know. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Want me to walk you back to your cabin?” he says, thankfully ignoring my comment. “The weather is crappy.”

“No, it’s okay,” I mumble, looking out at the black sky. “I’m going to stay here until everyone goes to bed.”

“Do you mind if I stay, too?”

“I’d really like it if you did.”

THE THUNDER IS LOUDER IN the cabin than it was in the movie room and I’m considering taking Xander up on his offer. Three-person night duty can become a thing, right?

I’ve tried music on my headphones. I’ve tried calming meditation. I’ve tried distracting myself with a book, but the weather is so bad not even sexy billionaires with a theme park are enough to distract me. Every time the thunder booms, I swear the cabin shakes. I’ve talked myself out of heading to Russ’s cabin three times. I was like someone from a movie when they stand up, walk to the door and put their hand on the handle, before dramatically shaking their head and walking away.

Nothing good can come from me going to see him—and yet the idea sticks. He can’t make the storm stop and I can’t go into his cabin, so there’s no point in my venturing out in the dark.

Knowing my luck, I’ll step outside and get struck by lightning.

I’m arguing with myself for the fourth time when there’s a knock on the door. What are the chances that Russ has been having the same argument with himself? When he finally closes those final few inches and kisses me?

Pulling back the door, I realize the answer to that question is zero.

Zero chance.

“Wow, you two are messy,” Jenna complains, poking her head through the doorway. She looks at the clothes on the floor and frowns. “How do you guys move around in here?”

“Can I help you, Ms. Murphy?” I grumble, not even attempting to hide my disappointment that she isn’t a six-foot-five hockey player with pretty blue eyes and a tendency to blush.

“Wow, she’s grumpy today. Still not over the storm thing, I see.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a flashlight. “In case the power goes out.”

The power might go out. Fantastic. “Remind me, why did I choose working for you over hanging out on a yacht or something equally douchey, but cool?”

“Because you love me,” she says proudly. “And sure, yachts are cool, but you ever had to deal with so much rainwater everywhere floods? You can’t get experiences like that in Dubai.”

“Living the dream, Jen.”

“You know it,” she says, grinning. “Okay, you’re my last delivery. I’m going to bed because I don’t have to work tonight and this weather fucking sucks. Don’t stress, okay? It’ll be over by morning.”

When has telling someone not to stress ever helped them not stress? Climbing back into bed, I try again with the book before giving up after five minutes. For the first time in my life, I’m not feeling romance books.

As someone who’s perpetually single, I think it’s probably more shocking that I like them to begin with. It’s a bit of a conundrum now that I think about it, how I have such faith in fictional happy endings, but have never considered what my own might look like.

Another knock comes. Pulling back the door again, I find Orla on my doorstep. Now I definitely know the universe is fucking with me. I mentally recap everything I’ve done since I got here that could have landed me on Orla’s radar, but nothing stands out. I’ve only been slutty in my head, not in real life, and she can’t read my thoughts, so she has no idea I’m desperately pining after getting to first base like an absolute loser.

“Hi, sweetie. I think I’m in the wrong place.” She pulls out her cell phone to check her messages. “There’s apparently a leaking roof and I need to take a picture for the repair records. I swear there are no perks to being an old lady these days. Getting sent out in the rain and all kinds of nonsense.”

She hands me the phone while she takes off her glasses, cleaning the fog and water with the collar of the jacket beneath her raincoat. “This says twenty-seven, not twenty-two. Twenty-seven is next to the main lawn. I think it’s opposite the Hedgehog cabin.”

Orla tightens her hood around her face, accepting her cell phone back and putting it into her pocket. “Thank you, sweetie. Sorry to have bothered you, sleep tight.”

I’m staring at the ceiling listening to the rain slowing down, trying to fall asleep, when the thunder booms, sounding like it’s happening right above my freaking cabin.

“Okay, we’re doing this. It’s happening,” I mutter to myself, rolling out of bed and reaching for my sneakers. Flicking on the lights, I search around Emilia’s and my things—Jenna was right, we are messy. Where the fuck is my raincoat?

Admitting defeat, I pull on my Brown Bear sweatshirt, which paired with my shorts looks like I’m cosplaying as Russ from earlier.

This is probably a bad idea.

“Bad ideas are character building,” I say to myself out loud, just as the lights in my cabin go out. “Fuck my life. This is not a sign.”

I keep repeating that it’s not a sign in my head as I fumble around for the flashlight Jenna gave me earlier and slowly navigate my way to the door in the dark. As soon as I’m outside, I can see there are lights on in other buildings. It’s just my row of cabins whose lights are out.

Of course it is.

The fact I’ve never googled the chances of someone being struck by lightning feels like a mistake as I run down the path in the direction of the lake.

There’s a real risk he’s going to turn me away.

What am I doing? Old Aurora would be booing and collapsing through sheer horror if she could see me now.

I’m thankful for my flashlight as I approach the row of cabins and count the numbers until I read the sign that says 33. My heart is in my throat as I climb the porch steps to Russ’s door.

The worst he can say to me is to go back to my own bed. At least I think that’s the worst thing. I know I shouldn’t be here, so there’s no reason to be surprised if he doesn’t want my needy ass right now.

The lightning cracks in the sky, stunning but terrifying, and I knock on the wooden door. Light peeks through a gap between the curtains, but he doesn’t answer the door. I knock again and wait, rationalizing he might be in the bathroom or something, but he doesn’t answer.

Dejected and a little embarrassed, I admit defeat and exit the protection of the porch back into the rain. It was a silly thing to do anyway and I really shouldn’t have been doing it. Maybe I have been misreading things. I’m sure I’ll have a great time overthinking this night for the rest of my life. When I’m old and gray, I’ll wake up in a cold sweat obsessing about how I went out in the rain in a sweater featuring a freaking bear and got ignored by the man I couldn’t stop thinking about.

Turning the first corner away from the cabin, I stop abruptly when I spot Russ walking toward me. His head is down, but after a few more steps he looks up at me and stops, too. “Hey,” he calls into the darkness. He’s as soaked as I am, wearing the same sweater and sweatpants as earlier, now darker from the rain.

“Hey.”

“I went to your cabin,” he says softly. “I thought you might be scared; I wanted to check that you were okay.”

I don’t know how to respond to what he said with words, so I move toward him, he moves toward me, and I’m so mesmerized by him that I don’t even flinch when lightning lights up the skies over Honey Acres, because he finally closes those last few inches and kisses me.