Someone tugs on my arm, and I look up to see Gage pulling me toward the door. Once we’re outside and the door slams shut behind us, I fall into one of the rocking chairs on the porch and burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
Still holding my arm, Gage crouches on the ground in front of the rocking chair, doubled over and howling.
“Oh my gosh!” I say between giggles. “You got me out of there just in time. I don’t know how much longer I would have lasted.”
Gage wipes his eyes. “I know. I could tell.”
I freeze. “They can’t see us out the window, can they?”
We both lean to the right and turn our heads to look through the window. Everyone is still crowded around Linda, the stick being passed from person to person.
This sets off a whole new round of laughter, and I quickly straighten so I’m out of view again.
Gage joins in, giving me a puzzled look. “Why are we laughing now?” he asks, trying to catch his breath.
I snort. “I don’t know!”
But it feels good, so I keep laughing with Gage until my stomach muscles are sore and the skin on my arm is tingling where Gage’s hand remains steady.
Chapter thirteen
Olivia
Thecampersstartarrivingat noon on Sunday. Unlike the cabin counselors who have to help all the kids in their cabin get situated, my main job today is to provide the campers with an overview of activities during the welcome meeting.
I also have a meeting with the rest of the activities team to share out the schedule for the week. My roommate, Nina, is the craft counselor, Jake is the nature counselor, and Nina’s boyfriend, Rocky, is the lifeguard. Each cabin of kids will have swimming time, supervised by Rocky and me, every day, as well as rotating options for hikes, crafts, and boating.
I drop the color-coded schedule off with each of the cabin counselors as part of my morning responsibilities. I linger a little at Gage’s cabin, checking things out. I haven’t seen inside one of the kids’ cabins yet.
It’s a nice set up. There are seven sets of bunk beds, meaning each cabin can fit twelve kids and two counselors—though Gage tells me they try to keep it to eight campers—and a gang-style bathroom with three showers and three toilet stalls.
I can tell Gage is busy, but after spending so much time with him this past week, it feels natural to have him close by. I end up lingering under the guise of helping him by making sure the bathroom has enough soap and toilet paper and checking the mattresses on each bunk.
But, when he’s distracted, I surreptitiously check out his personal space. He’s set up on the top bunk, with his junior counselor, Jayden, on the bottom. Gage’s bed is neatly made, with the edges of his blue sheets and lightweight blanket tucked under the mattress. His pillow still has a visible imprint from his head, and I have to fight the impulse to crawl into his bunk and lay my head in the divot.
He has a few pictures taped to the wall next to his bunk. There’s one of him and Annie at his college graduation, his smile wide and his fist above Annie’s head, threatening her with a noogie. Another one of his parents, sitting on the front-porch swing of their house in Austin. One of a pretty brunette woman and a tall man with dark hair, two kids in front of them. This must be Maggie and her family.
The last picture is Gage surrounded by a group of friends. I look at each face but don’t recognize a single one. It’s a weird realization that I don’t know his friends anymore. I don’t really know what he’s been up to the last five years or what his life is like. He was such a big part of mine for so long, and I literally walked away.
“Find anything interesting?” Gage’s voice teases from behind me, startling me from my thoughts.
I turn and hop down from where I’ve been standing on the edge of Jayden’s bunk, embarrassed to be caught. “Just looking at the pictures.”
He leans against the wall, arms folded and a cocky smile on his face. “Okay.”
I take a step toward him and push on his chest. “Oh, whatever. I have to say, though, I’m impressed your stuff is so neat.”
Gage pats the side of the mattress. “Hospital corners. It’s an occupational hazard of having a doctor for a mom.”
“Remember this isn’t a military camp. Your kids don’t have to make their beds every morning.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Uh, of course they do.”
“Right, okay. So you’re going to be the counselor nobody likes. Got it.”
Gage takes a step closer to me, a devilish look on his face. “No. Everyone will love me. I’m irresistible.”
A truer statement has never been spoken. I’m 90 percent sure that the slang termrizzwas created especially to describe Gage Carter’s special brand of charisma. Everything about him, from his eyes to his caretaking instincts to his magnetic personality, draws me in.
