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When the lane ropes and life vests are put away in the boat house, and all the Tough Mudder-type obstacles are cleaned and put away in the barn, I march over to the boys’ cabin and obnoxiously bang on the screen door.
Kaleb comes sauntering from somewhere in the back, slapping hands with a couple of the other guys.
“M’lady?” he grunts as he opens the door to join me on the front porch.
“You’ve been torturing me for the last seven weeks, and it ends now,” I gripe at him between my teeth which only makes him stand straighter and give me a smug look as he jams his hands in his pockets.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he bullshits, and I roll my eyes.
“You’ve been telling me you’ve got something up your sleeve for tonight and it’s been driving me up the fucking wall all this time! It was worse than when you leave one of your letters on a cliffhanger!”
“We better get going then,” he says off-handedly as he strolls past me.
“Where?”
“To the beach,” he tosses back, referring to the lakefront property where there’s a sandy area, a camp fire pit, and the dock with swimming area where we conduct all the water activities.
“Kaleb Dominic, I don’t like this one bit,” I scold from behind him.
“You will,” he promises, and I hate to admit it, but I’m thrilled to see a large air mattress set up by the grassy area behind the sand in the clearing of trees. It’s loaded down with pillows and blankets with a cooler nearby.
“Okay, I’m not sure if you’re aware what decade we’re in, but that day I said I owed you one, I didn’t mean you’d get laid,” I pop a hip out and wave a hand at the setup he has going on.
“Relax, you don’t owe me shit,” he waves me off. “I was fucking with you.”
“I hate you so much sometimes.”
“I know, but I figured I could make it up to you by…” he pauses, clearly for effect by the way he’s eyeing me, as he bends over to pull one of the blankets back to reveal a laptop computer laying beneath it.
“Are you sending prank emails to the Pentagon?”
“No, wiseass, we’re watching a movie.”
“Ooh! Which movie?” I ask and gleefully skip closer.
“Dead Scared Four.”
“Yes!” I double fist pump, looking forward to watching a scary-ass movie in the dark woods. “And what’s in the cooler?”
“Beer, what else?” He gives me a shit-eating grin I haven’t seen since we were little.
“Kaleb,” I huff out disapprovingly, even though I don’t care that he has beer, nor am I worried about how he got it. Upper management is actually pretty chill once we’re off our contract, which we are as of this afternoon. “What the hell am I supposed to drink?”
“You still don’t drink?” he asks, flipping the cooler’s lid.
“That’s right, I don’t,” I say adamantly, refusing to let him be the nine hundredth person that’s given me shit or tried to make me feel like a loser about it.
“Well then, good thing I also have the kind you drink in here,” he snickers, holding up a brown bottle that I immediately recognize as an old-fashioned root beer.
I smile warmly at him. “You remembered.” I waste no more time and hustle over to him, quickly relieving him of the bottle. I’m an absolute sucker for root beer, and I have no clue which letter or conversation I revealed that to him, and I don’t care. It gives me a warm glow when I realize how much he’s paid attention over the years.
What I’ve never told him is why I don’t drink. It has nothing to do with being underage. It’s actually kind of petty, because if he ever asked, I would tell him. I trust him like no other, and I have nothing to hide from him for worry of him pulling away from me. What bothers me is how much he knows about me, and how much I don’t know about him. I’ve never pushed him to tell me anything, but an immature part of me doesn’t like how unbalanced the scales are. So while I’ve revealed things during our ongoing truth or dare game, I’ve kept little pieces to myself. I also can’t help but wonder if maintaining a little mystery will keep this bond burning bright.
I do wish Kaleb would let me all the way in, that he’d realize there’s nothing he can tell me about himself that would change anything. I’ve always assumed his life hasn’t been puppies and rainbows. It’s not hard to figure out when he’s let things slip about money being tight and no mention of either parent growing up. But then, I suppose part of being a true friend is just being there and caring for them whether they tell you things or not. Besides, he tells me through actions how much he cares about me. While part of me aches to know him deeper, I know I have a special part of him.
“Come on,” he beckons as he lowers himself to the makeshift bed and reclines back against the pillows with one arm tucked behind his head. “Let’s get this rolling.”
“Okay, just one more,” I say, sitting down and holding the phone out to take a selfie with Kaleb in the background. I make a goofy face, winking with my tongue out – it’s kind of my thing with selfies – while Kaleb’s brow scrunches with narrowed eyes, as if to say, really?
