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I take a furious step towards her, ready to explode all over her when I stop myself, thinking better of it. This is just what she wants; I can tell by the smug, expectant look on her face as she continues to play with her hair.
For the better part of this last semester, Cheyenne has enjoyed pushing my buttons in between fucks, picking fights with me if that’s what kept me around longer. She’d push me to a certain point and then turn sweet and apologetic, totally fucking with my head. Sometimes, I’ll even admit, it had me totally confused as to what exactly our relationship was. But never once did I let her think we were something we weren’t.
And then I’d get a letter, and with a few words from Luna, my head would be clear. I’d be reminded of what an honest, level-headed person was like; a genuinely good person that saw good in me and made me like myself. Then I would ride that high until the next time Cheyenne came along with her mind games.
This is the first time, however, that she’s brought up seeing the letters. Now she stands here, waiting for me to unload on her so that we can draw this out.
I don’t know if it’s the knowledge I’m going to see Luna in less than two hours that is taking effect on me or what, but it doesn’t matter. I immediately tamp down my fury at this girl in front of me invading my privacy with no remorse, and school my features to represent indifference.
“It was good getting to know you, Cheyenne,” I convey calmly, giving her a friendly smile. “Take care of yourself.” I only catch a flicker of her hardened eyes and tightened mouth before I turn away just in time to see Pops walking out of the garage, wiping his hands on a shammy cloth.
“You good to go there, boy?” he asks gruffly, the years of cigarettes making his voice come out raspy.
“Yes, sir,” I smile, squaring my shoulders as he comes in for a manly, back-slapping hug. As I grew older, I became less of a responsibility to him and more of an actual grandson. He always cared, hence the reason I was never in the foster system – or worse, with my abusive drunk of a father. It was just incredibly stressful for him having to start over raising a small kid while trying to keep his shop afloat and dealing with his trainwreck of a son all on his own. Trying to keep me safe and provided for in that exceptional situation made him put his game face on for those first few years, but as I got older and more self-sufficient, he relaxed some. And when I got old enough to help him with some of the responsibilities in the shop and the house is when we bonded and became something resembling family.
“I’ll have your ruck sack at the airport for ya,” he husks, referencing my leave for basic training after the counselor stint at the camp is over.
“Thanks,” I say, turning to swing my backpack on. I swing my leg over my Harley and ignore Cheyenne still standing there, having pretty much dismissed her at this point.
“Say hi to Luna for me!” Pops yells, just before I stomp my foot down on the kickstart, and I don’t even try to hide the sheepish smile that pulls at one side of my lips at the mention of her name, nor do I bother to check Cheyenne’s reaction as I roar out of the driveway.
* * *
Luna
“Charlotte, you have Robin’s Nest,”Rob, one of Mystic Hill’s managers reads off as he hands Charlotte her list of campers, before continuing down the line of counselors. “Nolan, you have the Frog Pad. Luna, you’re taking Squirrel Hollow, and… Kaleb?” He looks up from his clipboard and scans the rest of the clearing we’ve congregated in to receive assignments, coming up empty, and I feel the nerves that already had a grip on my chest and shoulders dig in a little deeper. “Has anyone seen Kaleb Shane yet?” Rob asks, looking around to each of us for some kind of answer.
“He should be coming,” I offer up, before discreetly pulling in a deep breath to calm myself.
Rob looks to me with a questioning eyebrow raised. “You’ve spoken to him?”
“Sort of,” I hesitantly nod. “I got an email from him a couple of days ago, and he said he’d be here. Maybe he’s just running…” I trail off as I hear a faint rumbling, and for a moment I’m confused. It’s a perfectly sunny afternoon, that can’t be thunder. But as the sound gets gradually louder, it starts to click. I feel my body relax and my lips tugging at the sides.
In our letters and emails, Kaleb had mentioned resurrecting an old Harley that had come through Pop’s shop that everyone thought was a lost cause. And as we’d seen each other over the years, he’d grown a little rougher around the edges each summer, but it still doesn’t prepare me for what I see when the motorcycle rolls up over the small hill from the access road.
A cloud of dust blows forward as the bike comes to a stop and Kaleb brings his feet down to steady the machine, showcasing his badass motorcycle boots and long, jean-clad legs. Cutting the engine, he swiftly dismounts, swinging one leg back, and before I even realize it, my legs are moving, I’m closing the distance, meeting him halfway between the bike and the group.
I only have a few short strides to take in the countless changes in him, despite our last time together being only a year ago. A collection of tattoos take up the space of his left arm that weren't there before, he’s even taller yet, and a piercing glints from his right eyebrow. There’s a light dusting of scruff along his jawline, and the way his body carries itself is more confident. He’s never been the most social creature, but his stature conveys that he has no problem with anyone or anything.
We stop, leaving less than a foot of space between us, and everyone else seems to cease to exist. It’s just him and me standing in the middle of these beautiful trees as I stare up into those absolutely beautiful green eyes I have yet to find a pair like. The smile on his face is faint as his hooded gaze searches mine, but it speaks a million words. I know because it’s a smile I know by heart by now. It doesn’t matter how far apart our visits are stretched; each one is packed with that smile.
“Hey, silly girl,” he finally greets quietly, his smile turning up on one side just a little further.
“Hey, soldier,” I greet back just as a throat clears, ripping both our attention away from each other.
“You Kaleb Shane?” Rob asks, holding his camper list out to him without waiting for an answer. “You have the Hawks Perch,” he informs him and turns away, again not waiting for any kind of acknowledgement. “Campers will be arriving in the next thirty minutes, counselors! Head to your respective cabins and get squared away!” he barks out, and the rest of our fellow counselors quickly disperse, leaving Kaleb and I standing by his motorcycle.
Kaleb slowly drops his backpack once everyone’s far enough away with their attentions diverted, and his arms are around me before my heart even has a chance to take its next beat. His long arms wrap as far as they can around, holding me tight and flush against his lean frame. A small giggle bubbles out on the breath being squeezed out of me which just makes me laugh harder against his shoulder, and holy shit, did he always smell this good? The closeness wakes something up inside of me, making a thrill swish through my body.
Our reunions have always been joyous, but I’m finding a special little zing dancing up my spine with this one. Maybe it’s because I know it’s the last time, at least here at camp. If we see each other after this it likely won’t be every year, due to entering adulthood and all the bullshit that comes with it.
Kaleb straightens up, pulling me with him and lifting me off my feet a moment and giving me one more squeeze before setting me back down and taking a step back.
“You look great,” he tells me, giving me a quick once over, making my heart burst out a few rapid beats.
“Thanks, so do you. And you’re going to have to tell me about this,” I wave a hand at his very decorated left arm.
“Promise,” he utters softly, amusement dancing in his eyes.
