10 Weeks (8 page)

I pull back from him and wrap my arms tighter around his neck. “I told you I’d talk you into me.”

His deep chuckle lights me up from my toes to the top of my head. Everything feels warm and tingly and full of all the best parts of this summer. “That you did, Kay-Kay. That you did.”

Jody

Chapter Thirteen

I jerk open the shed with lifejackets and tell myself again that Jeff’s busy. Won’t notice me. I’m okay. Arguing with him is exhausting, and I have better things to do with my time.

I readjust my long hair into a tighter ponytail and start counting.

The scraping of boat against the
gravel pulls me from my trance. I’ve been staring at the long row of lifejackets and I’m
pretty sure I lost count after ten. I’ve got to get myself together
—camp has just begun
. I step out of the shed to see Jeff dragging canoes into the water.

Of course. There are never enough boats, and we’re always shuttling them back and forth between
the
boys’ camp
across the lake
and
our
girls’ camp.

He gives me this horrible sympathetic smile, which really makes me want to smack it off his f
ace. Thank God he’s heading back
to his camp soon
. Aside from Alex, who’s old, I’m the senior camp counselor here. Stupid things like ex-boyfriends shouldn’t slow me down.

Instead of playing cool, I’m fiddling with the ends of my red hair and feeling like I’m four
teen again, not
twenty-one. In some ways I’m more stuck inside of myself than anyone else I know.

I step back into the shed, determined to get my count before the girls are up. My run this morning didn’t clear my head the way I needed it to.

The problem’s
that Jeff and I were together for two years, since a year after high school graduation, and our families know each other, and we’ve said things like “I love you” and “forever” so I fell into that comfortable fantasy. When it was pulled out from underneath me, I didn’t know where I belonged anymore. I hate that a man had the power to do this to me.

I’m not supposed to be the weak girl. And I really should have told him that he needed to find a different job this summer. But the one thing I’ve learned from my parents is that reputation goes a long ways, and I’m not going to have anyone thinking less of m
e because of what Jeff says.
I know he’d have things to say about my maturity if I told him to
work
somewhere else. I can’t
risk
it. We know too many of the same people in our life outside of camp.

And now I’ve lost count of the stupid life jackets. I start at the top row again.

Kay-Kay
smacks my butt as she steps into the shed next to me.

I spin to face her, my jaw tight from Jeff and feeling pathetic.

Her face softens as she takes in my expression and glances back out the door at Jeff tying together canoes. “Let it go. He always was a pretentious prick. Good riddance
,
I say.”

“Yeah, well.” I sigh. “Mom and Dad have a very different idea about Jeff than you.” So did I, for that matter.

“You’re twenty-one, Jody. Who cares? You don’t get forever at twenty-one.” And then it almost looks like she’s bitten her tongue. That’s a new one for her.

Kay-Kay
doesn’t get the Jeff situation. Not that I’d want
her
parents, but mine expect a lot. So much. They hate that I’m still teaching at the camp, and next year’s my last year of college, so this is probably the last summer here for me. I can’t imagine not coming back next summer, not being part of these girls’ lives.

I glance back at her. “Don’t you own a bra?”

She shrugs. “It’s hot.”

“I have two nipples that stare at me every morning in that stupid mirror someone put just outside our shower stalls. I really don’t need yours, too.” At least I know there’s almost no way to offend her. I should also know that she’ll either tell me to eff off or change the subject.

“I know! Who the hell decided that’s where the mirrors need to be?
” She sighs. “You’re the oldest
counselor this year.” She leans casually against me. “Can you handle it?”

Subject change. I scoff. “Of course I can.”

“Of course you can.” She grins too wide, and I know, I just
know
she’s going to be up to no good. She wouldn’t be
Kay-Kay
if she wasn’t. But I really don’t want to be counselor to my counselors. Though, it would probably do me good to remember these girls are more my friends than co-workers, and like Jeff reminded me way too often,
I
should “loosen up a little”.

I wipe the beads of sweat off my forehead. Day one. Hot. And I’ve already gone through two outfits. For me, that’s a sign it’s going to be a great summer.

Also, Jeff’s finally paddling away with five canoes in tow. That helps, too.

“Little Minnow tonight. I know you don’t want to miss out.” She starts to walk away.

Of course I want to miss out. Right now I want to be pathetic and hide inside my cabin. Immerse all of me in camp and forget my outside life exists. But since I hate that I’m feeling that way, I’ll definitely be at the bar.

Sam
and
Kay-Kay
have a beer within a minute of when we step inside, but I have to scope out the room first. See who’s here. Breathe in the familiar smell of stale beer, and worn-out old wooden building. The problem with bein
g the oldest of the counselors
is that
Sam
and
Kay-Kay
are my only two friends left.

And they’re awesome girls, and probably really good for me in some warped way, but those two don’t let anything go.

Jeff’s in the corner
,
talking to some very young looking blonde who’s half on his lap, and my stomach tightens up. I’m so glad I didn’t eat before coming. I stare for a moment too long and his eyes catch mine. Instead of looking away, or pretending he didn’t see like any actually nice guy would do, he gives me another frowning, apologetic smile that immediately turns me into an angry, ex-girlfriend.

I’m smarter than to give him the satisfaction of affecting me, so I smile slightly back and let my eyes wander away. If I was a drinking girl, tonight would definitely be a night to get hammered.

How can he be so cavalier about two years? Our moms had practically planned our whole wedding. And was it Jeff’s fault that he broke up with me?

Of course not.

The first words out of Mom’s mouth were, “What did you do? He’s such a perfect young man.”

“Whoa.”
Kay-Kay
grabs both my shoulders, forcing her face into my line of sight. “Chill. You can kill someone later. Like tomorrow. We start archery right away. Picture his face in the target, but please let’s not start the drama our first night here. I need you to drive me home.”

Her breath already smells like beer, but the girl is the perfect distraction. What she doesn’t realize is that I still sort of hurt too much to be angry. Or maybe I’m in shock. Or maybe it’s a random combination of things I don’t remember ever feeling that I never want to feel again.

“Now.” She turns me toward the bar. “Go check out that delicious piece of ass behind the bar, and I dare you to tell me you don’t feel it between your legs when he says hello.”

I blush a little, even though I should be used to
Kay-Kay
’s lack of filter.

I step up to the worn wooden bar and stop before sitting down.

“Hello?” Thick Irish accent. Dark brown eyes stare past me, or into me, or at me in a way that, yes… I feel pretty deeply. Deep enough that I cross my legs
when I hop on the stool
.

A curl of his brown hair hangs over his forehead, and I wonder what it would feel like to run my hands through a guy’s hair who actually had more than a business man’s tidy haircut. This is so not like me.

Tattoos line his arms to his hands, and now I’m staring at his lip ring. There’s a part of me that’s fascinated by it. What would it feel like to kiss?

“Can I get you something?” His eyes are still very intently on me, so much that I scoot back slightly.

Oh, shoot. He’s been waiting for me. It’s just that his delicious accent, and rockstar hotness is muddling my brain. “Can I get a sprite with some grenadine?”

His brows go up along with a corner of his mouth. Intensity gone.

They really need to start hiring geeks here because I can’t think straight with someone this hot looking over the counter at me.

“Sprite with cherry flavor?”

“Yes.” I’m an idiot, and really not in the mood for the run-around I so often get because I like a little kids’ drink. Not everybody
drink
,
drinks. I used to tell everyone that Sarah Jessica Parker doesn’t drink, but no one knows who she is anymore, so it doesn’t seem to matter.

“That’s a Shirley Temple.” It’s so obvious that he’s holding in his laugh, and half of me wants to sink into the floor, the other half gets sorta pissed.

“Yes.” I rest my arms on the bar, no longer intimidated by his looks. For now. “But it would be great if we didn’t call it that.”

“Sure thing…” He tilts his head at me sideways, and lets his words trail off.

Oh. Right. He wants my name. “Jody.”

“Jody.” My name actually sounds very cool coming from him. His eyes hit me in the gut again. Definitely going to need to talk to th
e owner, Bill, about hiring zit-filled, Dungeons-and-Dragons-
playing dudes who belong in their mother’s basements. I come here too often.

The Irishman bartender isn’t going to work for me.

Chapter Fourteen

I lie in bed and stare at the c
eiling of my
cabin.

Highlights of our first night.

Pulling
Sam
out from underneath the guy who last year single-handedly ruined the summer of three other camp counselors by passing on herpes, and singing at the top of our lungs, because there’s no other way to drive throu
gh the woods without being freak
ed out.

None of us will ever admit that, but we do it every time. Unspoken. Friends with unspoken rules are the best kind of friends.

I close my eyes and think about Jeff in the corner. Then the girl. Tan, like I’ll never be. Blonde. Nice thin arms, instead of my strong ones. I’m a runner, swimmer and biker. I’ve competed in triathalons since I can remember, and usually run before camp starts for the day
, before the camper walk
.
Kay-Kay
and
Sam
would give me no end of crap if they knew.

And the bartender.
Liam
, I learned. So generic to fall for the hot guy behind the bar. He has that urban feel—s
kinny jeans, black rock T-shirt,
and he’s
here
. So strange. And those relationships never turn out well—the summer ones. Forget the fact that I could never go there. Which makes me think of Jeff, which makes me think of school.
Ack.

I wonder if there’s any way to push off finishing college because I’m nowhere near ready to enter the real world. Not when I have zero idea what to do with my business degree when I don’t give a crap about business.

The girls are groaning over a two-mile walk and to make matters worse, I’m picking up the tail because
Kay-Kay
needs to be in a position where she bumps into Alex as often as possible. What the hell is she thinking? He’s twice her age.

Not that she’d let that stop her. And maybe I have to admit that part of me is jealous of her jumping in and going for what she wants because there’s no way I’ll do anything about
Liam
behind the bar. Too tattooed. To
o smirky. Too…
Irish. Okay. So, the Irish thing totally works in his favor. I’ve been there twice and didn’t want to leave both times.

A half-mile in, two girls are sure they’re going to collapse from exhaustion even though I know that if they were given a credit card at the entrance of the mall, they could probably go for five miles before crashing on a bench.

Part of bringing up the tail is taking girls back, so we turn around, and let the group continue on.

When I move past Irene’s office, I nearly run into Bill, the Little Minnow owner, and the guy who got me the job here my first year. He’s a good friend of my Uncle Tate, who understood my need to not be home during the summers—he understands the craziness of his sister who is my mom.

I’m pretty sure my parents are relieved because the older I get, the less patience I have. Mom and I are both all about organization, we just do it in opposite ways. It’s like having a neat freak live with someone who has OCD—you’d think they totally mesh, but they don’t. Not really.