by Piper Rayne
I’ve experienced this firsthand, but I’m still nervous.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He gives me a playful look. “Come on,” he adds, and tips his head toward the door.
Adrenaline is still slowly ebbing out of me. “What if I get caught?”
“That’s half the fun, ain’t it?”
Two weeks left with this incredible guy. I bite my lip, trying to decide if I have the nerve to turn him down.
“Okay,” I say.
He sneaks a quick kiss. “I’ll wait for you outside.”
I wait for him slip from the cabin, then grab my clothes and quickly dress. I could get in serious trouble for this. Am I this girl who throws caution to the wind? Or am I better off reclaiming my old “color between the lines” self?
If I hadn’t had a ménage a moi in the staff bathroom, Hans would never have approached me like that. If I wasn’t built the way I am, he never would have noticed me in the first place.
Once outside, Caleb grabs me in a tight hug, then takes my hand and leads me down the path. A bright half-moon hovers just above the tree line, casting a pale glow over the ground.
“Where are we going?” I whisper, afraid I’m going to trip and land on my face.
Caleb leads me along the lake, hurrying so fast I have to almost jog to keep up.
Finally, we reach a clearing in the trees with a narrow strip of rocky beach. He turns to me, his eyes sparkling. “I got the job.”
“The one in San Diego?” I ask. “The boat manufacturing one.”
He nods eagerly. “I could start September first.”
“Are you going to take it?”
His eyes widen. “Not sure yet.”
“Wow,” I say as a tingle races over my skin.
He gazes up at the sky. “It’s a clear night. Is it late enough to see them?”
“Meteors?” I say, thrown by his sudden change in topic. “It’ll be better in a week, but we might see some.”
We sit on the lip of land edging the shore with our feet inches from the water. He puts his arm around me, and I tuck into him, the warmth from his body flooding into mine.
“Now, about your text,” he says, flashing me a shrewd glance. “You want to tell me about it?”
My stomach quivers. Annika’s words—he’s going to want to kick Hans’ ass—ring in my mind.
I sag into him. “You mean about sexting?”
“Yeah. Do you really want me to stop?”
Above us, the silent stars glimmer. I relax my gaze so that a shooting star will be easier to notice.
“You seem to be enjoying it. I know I am.”
“The other day, when I was in the staff bathroom,” I say, then swallow the lump in my throat, “someone heard me.”
He shifts to see me better. “Who?”
“Another counselor.”
His eyes sparkle. “So what?”
“It’s … embarrassing,” I stammer. “I thought I was being super quiet.”
“So how did this other counselor know that’s what you were doing?”
I don’t tell him about the possibility that Hans was watching. It’s too creepy.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, his gaze troubled.
“It’s nothing,” I say quickly. “I should probably just not use that bathroom anymore.”
“That’s easy enough,” Caleb says. “Only nine days until camp’s over.”
My stomach sinks.
He winces. “Is that what’s bugging you? That summer’s over soon?”
I nod.
He hugs me tighter against him. “I know. It sucks.”
I lay my head against his shoulder and inhale his river-rock scent. When we’re together like this, it’s easy to push all my worries aside.
“Oh!” Caleb gasps.
I gaze up to see the tail end of a meteor’s white streak. “Yay, our first shooting star,” I say, then realize how corny that sounds.
“One I’ll never forget,” he says.
I watch his expression turn serious. Then, he kisses me, his lips tender and soft. Energy flows through me like a warm, tingling current, vibrating faster and faster.
Caleb caresses down my arm as our kiss deepens, his tongue licking the seam of my lips, then swirling with mine.
He breaks away, his eyes pained. “After camp ends, you’re staying for the big party, right?”
“Yes,” I reply. “I changed my flight,” I say, though I had very little to do with it. Staying an extra day was the consolation prize to my mom and Jeff selling my car to Sam’s brother for $300.
He seems to relax. “Good,” he says. “You need a ride to Boise?”
“On your bike?”
“Yeah, you look good back there.”
I give him a playful shove. “I’m not sure my hip flexors would enjoy a three-hour ride on your bike.”
“I would make it up to them,” he says, raising an eyebrow.
A flock of hummingbirds zooms through my belly as I imagine all the ways he could make good on that promise.
“Maybe I’ll keep driving to San Diego from there,” he says.
“Sounds like you’ve decided,” I say.
He releases a soft sigh. “My dad’s voice keeps blaring in my ear.”
“Was he pushing you to stay in school?”
“Since I was fourteen.” He caresses my arm in soft strokes. “Which is weird because he dropped out.”
“Maybe he wanted something better for you.”
“I’m sure he did, but there’s more than one way to get there.”
“Did you ever tell him that?”
“Many times,” he says with another hard sigh.
“Now that he’s gone, does that make it easier or harder to decide?”
“Harder. If I quit, I feel like I’m letting him down even more. I know it’s a weird way of thinking, but I can’t help it.”
“What does your mom think?”
He gives a derisive huff. “My mom’s got more than enough going on than to worry about me.”
From his tone, I get the sense there’s more happening with his family than he’s comfortable talking about. Annika hasn’t shared much with me, but I can read between the lines. Something’s not right.
“Do you feel pressured by your brothers?”
“Hell yeah,” he says. “But they both flew through school. I’ve always felt like I’m slamming my head against a brick wall.” Before I can ask more about this, he continues, “It’s sort of funny, actually. Even though they aren’t close, they both send me the same message.”
He’d brought this up once before, but never told me the whole story. “Do you want to talk about it?”
His shrug jostles my cheek. “It’s a long story.”
“I’m a good listener.”
He leans close to kiss me. I savor his soft lips and warmth, the way his gentle tongue slides and swirls with mine to make my breath quicken and my blood pound.
“I wish I could help you decide,” I say when we pause for a breath. I nuzzle into him again with my eyes on the sky.
“You are,” he says softly.
“Oh!” we both gasp at the same time as a meteor sails over us.
“Wow,” Caleb says.
Two more meteors streak across the sky, each one imprinting on the back of my brain, never to be forgotten.
We watch the stars in silence for a while and it’s so nice to be here with him. I hold onto the precious sensory details—his scent, the cool night air on my skin, the soft lapping of the waves, the fresh pine taste in the air, and his firm body’s warmth.
“So, if I lived in San Diego, that’s like, seven hours from Stanford, right?” he asks.
My belly tingles again because I’m starting to think he’s suggesting that we could stay together. “If you drive like a bat out of hell, yeah,” I say with a chuckle.
He laughs. “I hear everyone in California drives fast.”
“True.”
“Seven hours isn’t bad.”
“No,” I say as the tingles spread everywhere. “It’s not.”
He kisses me again, his lips hungry. His touch feathers down my arm, sending hot blood whooshing past my ears. I get lost in his lips as our kiss deepens, as if I’m drifting along on a dreamy cloud. His tongue flicks against mine—an invitation—and I swirl against it, tasting him while my skin erupts with warmth.
He caresses up my side and brushes over the edge of my breast.
In a flash, I’m back in the hot tennis court with Hans’ rough hands squeezing me. I flinch, pulling back from him so fast his eyes snap open.
“Whoa,” he says, looking bewildered.
I shake my head. Goddamn Hans for ruining this for me. “Sorry,” I say.
His expression shifts to one of concern. “What’s going on? Did I hurt you?”
“It’s nothing,” I say, desperate for a way out of this.
He lifts my chin, so I’m forced to look at him. “Tell me.”
I try to relax my features. “There’s this counselor … the one who heard me?” I pause. “He’s giving me a hard time.”
Caleb’s eyes sharpen. “A hard time how?”
I hug myself but my full breasts only make the memory clearer. “He says stuff to me. Today he … grabbed me.”
Caleb’s nostrils flare. I can practically see fire breathing from them. “Tell me who he is so I can kick his ass.”
I shake my head. “That won’t help.”
He gives me a stern look. “Like hell it wouldn’t.”
“There’s only nine days left, remember? I’ll just avoid him.”
“No way. Tell me.” He sighs a tight breath, then gives me a look of kindness. “I’m not gonna stand for anyone hurting you.”
My heart jumps into my throat. “I appreciate you wanting to help,” I say. “But I don’t want any drama. I’ll just avoid him.”
“I’ll let it go for now, but we’re not done talking about this,” he says.
I lean into him and gaze at the sky. If only my body was made differently, I wouldn’t have to go through this.
He lays his arm over my shoulders and pulls me to him. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry I made you flinch. You know I would never hurt you, right?”
“Yeah, Caleb, I do.”
After a long pause, Caleb finally shifts away so he can stand. He reaches for my hand. “I better get you back.”
We hold hands in silence all the way to the entrance of my cabin. He kisses me softly, then whispers, “See you Thursday. Don’t bother wearing panties.”
I suppress my giggle, then hug him one last time before he slinks back into the shadows.
After he’s gone, I climb the steps to my cabin, my heart aching. If Caleb moved to San Diego, we could still see each other. But is that what he meant when he brought up the seven-hour drive between Stanford and San Diego?
In nine days, everything will change. Are we still on track to end things? Or am I going to ride off into the sunset on the back of his bike?
21
Caleb
My phone wakes me at eight—a text from Delaney.
I gotta talk to you about something
I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling. I have to put a stop to this. Make her see that we’ll never be together, that I wasn’t thinking properly that night, and that she needs to move on.
But none of that is right for a text.
I’ll stop by later, I type.
What time?
With a groan, I tuck my phone into my jeans and tug on a t-shirt. Two minutes later, I’m strapping on my helmet and driving slowly down my street. I have plans to drop by my family’s house, but I’m rattled by Delaney’s text so take the bike up the highway, opening the throttle. Cool river-heavy air blasts my bare arms and neck while the copper-colored canyon walls welcome me.
Thoughts of Lori fill my mind—her sweet smile, her soft cries, the way she trusts me, the way she makes me feel. How the fuck am I going to say goodbye to her? Somehow in all of this, I lost track of the rules. She’s filled my life with goodness—a sensation I’ve never experienced.
I am so, so fucked. Just the thought of saying goodbye to her has me in a cold sweat.
After I reach the saddle, I pull over and take in the miles and miles of empty peaks and shadowed valleys, steeling my composure for the task at hand, then turn back. An hour later, I coast to a stop next to my mom’s weathered, white Suburban outside our house.
With a heavy sigh, I dismount and shuffle up the wide steps to the porch and let myself in through the screen door. Once inside, memories flood my mind. My dad fixing a broken wheel on a pair of roller skates, us as a family eating at the big farmhouse table my dad built, my mom’s playful smile, and laughter. Even though we had our differences, we at least had that.
Annika’s right. The place is a mess. Couch cushions tossed here and there, a chair that’s been used as a scratching post for Annika’s many adopted cats, half hazard stacks of library books covering the coffee table and spilling onto the floor, pine shavings in the corner where a wood pile should be.
One of Annika’s cats trots in and curls around my ankles, purring softly.
“What’s up, little rascal?” I ask, scooping him up.
He nuzzles under my chin and I scratch him between his shoulder blades. I wonder what else Annika’s adopted recently. Our flock of hens in our backyard coop is full of other people’s aging birds. She says just because they stop laying doesn’t justify murdering them to make room for new ones.
The kitten and I face the kitchen. It gets worse in here. The counters are grimy, there’s unwashed pots on the stove. And it stinks. The linoleum flooring is peeling in the corners and I’m sure the sink still leaks. After finding some kibble for the kitten, I roll up my sleeves. I decide to start with the trash and lift the bag from the container. Inside, glass bottles clank together.
My teeth clench. Can’t she see what she’s doing?
When I return from the trash bin outside, one of the twins—Vonnie—stands at the edge of the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. When she sees me, her face lights up.
“Caleb!” she gasps and runs into my arms.
I give her a gentle squeeze. “You’re up early,” I say.
She grins. “I’m babysitting today.”
“Good for you,” I reply. Yvonne is the youngest of the twins by two minutes and has always been baby crazy. She still plays with her baby dolls—she’s built an entire nursery for them in her room: crib, changing table, highchair. Annika is worried about it but I’m not. She’s going to be a great mom someday.
“Is everyone else home?”
“Dylan’s probably at practice,” she says, squinting at the clock.
“At this hour?”
She gives me a look. “He practically lives at the rink.” She grabs the carton of eggs from the fridge. “Mom and Leah are still asleep.”
She surveys the kitchen, as if seeing it for the first time. “Yikes. It’s a mess in here.”
“Who cooked last night?”
“Dylan,” Vonnie says, whipping her wavy hair into a loose braid. “Pasta. It’s the only thing he knows how to cook.”
“Leah on K.P. duty?”
Vonnie wrinkles her nose. “Supposed to be. She’s been such a bitch lately.”
“Watch the language, little lady,” I say, only half-joking. She’s twelve, after all.
Vonnie shrugs. “Just because she has to be in summer school doesn’t mean she should take it out on us.”
I had no idea Leah was in summer school. I’m surprised—she’s as smart as a whip. But she’s always been a tough nut to crack, and this year has been tough on them. Through that lens, it’s easy to see that things like school lose their meaning. Who is helping her get through it? Annika? What’s going to happen when she leaves this fall?
“I’ll pitch in,” I say, moving through the big kitch
en to the laundry room. I ignore the giant mound of clothes on the floor and grab a rag from the cupboard over the dryer.
I fill one of the kitchen sinks with soapy warm water while Vonnie makes a fried egg. As I’m scrubbing countertops, she groans. “Great, the bread’s moldy again.”
I peek over her shoulder into the barren fridge. Vonnie swings the half-consumed remains of a bag of bread into the trash.
“Do you guys need me to grocery shop?” I ask, my voice tight.
Vonnie doesn’t meet my eyes. “No, it’s fine.”
I rinse a section of countertop then move to the fridge, wiping down the handle, then opening each door. I stare at the barren glass shelves as a pit of remorse grows inside me. But it quickly turns to anger. After giving the shelves a quick wipe, I shut the doors.
Vonnie is eating her fried egg standing up, her willowy frame leaning against the edge of the counter.
“How’s Mom been?” I ask, even though I don’t want the answer.
Vonnie shrugs. “She sleeps a lot.”
“Are you guys doing okay?” I ask, unable to reel in my frustration.
She looks at me, puzzled. “Yeah, why?”
“Just making sure,” I reply even though I want to call bullshit. If this house is a ship, it’s going under. But what am I supposed to do about it?
More anger surges through me, but I push it back. It’s not fair to be angry at my dad for dying.
“I gotta run,” she says, and rinses her plate, then puts it in the dishwasher, which I see is crowded with food-encrusted plates and silverware.
When she turns back to me, her eyes are strained. “Promise you’ll come again? Before you leave?”
I nod. “Promise.”
Her eyes clear. “Cool.” She slips from the kitchen and hurries out the front door. A minute later, her bike tires crunch over the sandy driveway.
I turn back to my task, using the work to quiet my thoughts. But there’s too many fragments dancing around up there to find any sort of peace. The work feels good though. I’m no neat freak like Pete, but I do appreciate things in their place.
I make a quick run to the grocery store for staples like bread, milk, butter, pasta and sauce, a few frozen pizzas, and a treat I know they’ll all appreciate, ice cream sandwiches. After I unpack the groceries, I decide to run a load of laundry before I have to leave for my afternoon float trip, a group of families all celebrating someone’s fiftieth birthday.
