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d.
“No, we were just getting to it,” she told her cousin, then they both turned their attention on me.
I tried to think of a way to change the subject, but the look on their faces told me there was no getting out of this one.
“No,” I admitted after taking a deep breath and turning to lean back against the dresser. “I didn’t tell him.”
“Why not?” Jasmine asked gently as she wound her long red locks up into a bun. “You have to know he’s not going to care. In fact, he’ll understand more than most people would … the fame, the money, people using you for who you are … He’s dealt with all of it.”
I bit my lip and tilted my head down.
“I know you’re right, and I thought about telling him right then, I really did, but all I kept thinking about is how different we are. How different our pasts are, and our lives out there.” I lifted my hand and swept it, indicating the outside world.
“So what?” Serena asked. “So you’re different, that’s a good thing. Haven’t you heard the old adage, opposites attract?”
“Of course,” I answered, lifting my head to face them. “But he’s a football player. A big one. He said he played in high school, college, and the NFL. Now, I don’t watch or understand the game, but I’ve seen stuff about the players. He’s been a big deal his whole life, could have his pick of women, and probably has … He’s had women work hard to get in his bed, and to get him to marry them, he said so himself.”
Jasmine stood up and took a few steps toward me as she explained, “Yes, that’s all true. Gabe has never had a hard time finding a date, and women have gone to crazy lengths to be with him, but, Zoey, that’s in his past. When he was a teenager, at college, and in his early twenties, he was swept up in it, I’ll admit, but he’s not like that now. He’s a grown-up. A man. I’d say in the last five years he’s dated only a couple women. He’s done with all of that playboy stuff.”
“I believe that, believe you,” I said, pushing off the dresser to stand in front of her, trying to make her see where I was coming from. “But my life was nothing like that. I was the quiet girl in school, helped with sets in the drama department in high school, and studied hard in college. I’m a total geek, a nerd. I started out writing Star Wars fan fiction, and can count the number of guys I’ve been with on one hand … if I only had three fingers on it. The football players never looked at me, and I gave them a wide berth.”
“This isn’t high school,” Serena said from her perch on the bed. “You’re both adults, and I can tell he really likes you.”
“Yeah, here!” I shouted, then realized I was yelling and lowered my voice. “But this is like a fantasy world, it isn’t real. He said he wants to keep seeing me after camp, but how is that even possible? I spend my days in my house, usually in my pajamas, writing and talking to my virtual friends online. I only go out when I get low on coffee and my supply of Red Vines is gone. I have no social life and the only people I interact with are my sister and nephew. I doubt that’s the kind of thing he’s into.”
“Have you talked to him about it? Not the fact that you’re a famous writer, but the rest of it, the day-to-day stuff that you’re worried about?” Jasmine asked softly.
“No. I didn’t really start freaking out until after we came back here and I was left alone with my crazy brain,” I replied. “He said he wanted to see me after, and I said that I did too.”
“And, do you?” Serena asked.
I met her eyes and nodded, causing a beautiful smile to cross her face.
“Then that’s all that matters. The rest will work itself out.”
“Do you think so?”
“Yes,” Jasmine answered, then surprised me by pulling me in for a hug. “Just talk to him.”
“Okay.”
“Now, hurry up and finish getting ready. Those guys will eat all the s’mores and drink all the beer if we’re late.”
I finished by putting a shimmery gloss on my lips, then grabbed my sweater off the back of the chair, just in case.
“Ready,” I announced, and we all headed out of my cabin.
It was already dark as we made our way through the woods to the bonfire site. Jasmine was telling us a story about Dillon getting in trouble for stealing a freshly frosted lemon cake out of their kitchen when he was seven. His mother had found him sitting under the porch, half the pan empty with bits of yellow cake all over his face. He’d tried to blame Jasmine for putting him up to it, but their mother didn’t believe him.
“I totally did put him up to it too. I knew how much he loved lemon cake and told him Mom had made it just for him … She’d made it for a business dinner our father was having that night. He got in so much trouble.” Jasmine was laughing at the memory as we neared the sight, and when I noticed Dillon glaring at us, I knew he’d heard the whole thing.
“I was grounded from my Nintendo for a week,” he said, scowling at his twin.
“Awe, I’m sorry, bro,” Jasmine said with a jaunty smile as she leaned down to kiss him on the cheek.
“Get away from me,” he replied, his voice rough, but the quirking of his lips giving him away. “Dad still blames me for losing that account, and it was over twenty-five years ago.”
I was grinning as I walked over to where Gabe was sitting, watching his cousins bicker around him. He patted the log next to him and I sat down, leaving a space between us. I was still a little freaked out over my earlier mental freak-out about the differences between us. Of course, he had no idea about any of it. When he left me with a kiss and a promise to see me at the bonfire, everything had been hunky dory.
