by Kate Avelynn
“Like hell he will.” Sam shields his eyes from the glaring sun, barely disguising the glare he gives the back of my brother’s head. “If you don’t tell him soon, I’m going to. Fair warning.”
He kicks off his flip flops and stomps toward the water, looking more like a predator stalking its prey than a guy on his way to having fun with his friends. Only after he wades into the lake and swims out to the logs do I let myself breathe again. I need a plan. One that’ll sway him back to my way of thinking—secrecy—before he, or Alex, ruin everything.
For someone who’s mad at my brother, Sam does a great job of pretending everything’s fine. From his perch atop the longest log, he laughs at Alex and James pummeling the hell out of each other in the water.
And then he stands up to jump, looking like a tan, athletic god.
My heart trips all over itself. The sophomores are ogling him too. Before I can march out there and slap the scheming, boyfriend-stealing looks off their faces, Sam jumps headlong into the melee and lands on top of James and Alex. They welcome him with fists to the gut. Unfazed, he dunks them both.
I settle back onto my elbows, mindful of the trail of prehistoric-sized ants marching past less than a foot away, and try to get comfortable. It’s only noon and already way too hot for my jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt. If there’d been a breeze, the eighty-five degree weather might be tolerable, but the thick trees surrounding the campsite block out whatever relief the mountains might’ve had planned.
Melinda waves to me from the log, her small body drowning in one of Jesse’s t-shirts and a pair of shorts. Hmm…maybe I could jump in with my clothes on.
James’s laughter pierces the already noisy air and draws my gaze. The sophomore girls must’ve waded close enough to catch our group’s attention, because two of them are riding around on the guys’ shoulders. Alex dives off the log and pops up between the legs of another, who shrieks and clings to his neck. Once Melinda hops onto Jesse’s shoulders, and everyone but Sam and James grab their own sophomore playthings, it doesn’t take long for a Mack Lake wrestling match to break out.
Watching James splash around, officiating the match without a girl on his shoulders, makes me sadder than I expect. It’s not for lack of partners. There are three girls sitting on the log to choose from, but James has turned down all three. Sam did, too, but he has a reason to keep his distance. Me.
My brother can’t say the same thing.
The match turns pornographic when the girl on Alex’s shoulders is pushed by one of her friends, somehow dislodging her bikini top before sending her face first into the water. Alex falls with her and resurfaces with her bikini in his hands, whirling it around his head like a lasso and whooping triumphantly.
If the only thing keeping my chest covered was in Alex Anderson’s hands, I would scream and swim for shore. Not this girl. She throws her arms around his neck, presses her bare chest to his, and giggles.
I can’t tell who’s more shocked—me or Alex.
His surprise doesn’t last long. Sinking just low enough to keep what he’s doing with his hands hidden, Alex eagerly kisses her. The other guys jeer and whistle, but the girl’s friends flash each other knowing grins.
Oh, yeah. That was planned.
Disgusting.
Hating that I’m jealous Sam and I aren’t doing the same thing, I get up, brush the dirt and pine needles off my jeans, and trudge back up to the main campsite. If I can’t kiss my boyfriend or swim with my brother, I might as well make everyone lunch.
I spot the old cooler with Morgan printed across the top in fading black letters and head in that direction. Inside, half a dozen expired hotdog packages and two bags of premade hamburger patties sit nestled in ice.
A cold hand covers mine on the lid.
“I want you to swim with us,” my brother says gently. “It’s hot out, and I hate knowing you’re up here by yourself in all those clothes.”
I give him the most even smile I can manage before focusing on my lunch plans again. “I’m fine, really. Lunch will be ready in fifteen minutes if I can figure out how to start that camp stove. Do you know if anyone brought any beans?”
He steps closer and grasps my chin gently, forcing me to look him in the eye. Water droplets trickle from his hair into his face, but the sadness swirling in his usually-sparkling blue irises is like a jab to the gut. “The only thing I want is to make you happy. You know that, right? Everything I do is because I love you.”
Heat rises in my cheeks, pooling under his thumb and forefinger cradling my jaw. Terrified this conversation is going to lead to him trying to kiss me, I nod and pull away.
The sadness in his eyes abruptly fades to mischief. “Good,” he says. “So you’re not going to hate me for this.”
Before I can get away, James tosses me over his shoulder and takes off at a dead run for the lake, ignoring my flailing legs and arms.
“James!” I shriek. “Put me down!”
He laughs. “Not a chance. You ruined my weekend, so now I’m ruining yours.”
I try to kick away his hand, but he still manages to pry my flip-flops from my feet and chuck them into the trees. With his uneven footfalls jostling me around, I can’t get my bearings.
Landmarks. I need landmarks.
Pine needles and dirt, pine trees that all look alike from upside down, generic boulders…
I’ll never find my flip-flops in this forest.
The splashing and cheers are getting louder. Somewhere in the chaos, I hear Sam bark out an order that my brother ignores.
And then I’m airborne.
Twenty-nine
I hate my brother.
At least, when I’m sitting by the fire later that evening, wearing a pair of his flannel pants and one of Alex’s sweatshirts—but not my flip-flops—I want to hate him. Swimming in the cold water of Mack Lake would have felt wonderful if not for my jeans and long-sleeved shirt immediately tugging me under. Apparently, James forgot that I don’t know how to swim.
Sam fished me out. Sam, who has been scowling at me from across the fire for the last hour because I won’t sit next to him in front of Alex or James, and refused to wear his sweatshirt.
If that wasn’t bad enough, James is drunk.
This camping trip is turning out to be the worst weekend ever.
Not for Alex, though. He and Kelly—the sophomore has a name, apparently—haven’t stopped kissing since she lost her top in the lake. They’re sitting on a blanket on the darkest side of the fire, Kelly’s hands threaded through his bright red hair and her legs wrapped around his waist. At least she’s wearing clothes now.
I feel a little bad for her five friends who are ogling the other guys in our group. The girls are all pretty in a fake sort of way, but they might as well be invisible for all the attention they’re getting. Sam and James want nothing to do with them, Jesse is busy trying to dig a splinter out of Melinda’s thumb, and Alex’s friends have been drooling over Kelly ever since they got an eyeful of her perky C-cups earlier in the lake.
“James, man, you laid that guy out yesterday,” one of Alex’s friends says with a snicker. Corey, I think his name is. “When are they moving you to nights? They’ll make a fortune off that shit.”
James is fighting? How did I not know? My brother grins, but I’m analyzing Sam’s face, which has gone pale.
“No idea,” James says lightly and grabs one of the sophomore girls’ cell phones. “But Alex is gonna wind up starring in his own porn video if he and Kelly keep it up. Take her top off, Alex. I’ve got the camera pointing right at her chest.”
When Kelly laughs and reaches for the hem of her t-shirt, Alex jerks her hands away, scowling. Everyone but Sam and I get sucked into the will she/won’t she debate after that. I stare at him, hating that he’s hiding something from me about James, until he looks away and pretends to get in on the betting. At least he sides with Alex, who stopped kissing Kelly and seems disgusted by everyone else for a change.
M
y brother gives up the cell phone in favor of another beer, handed to him by one of the sophomores who plunks down beside him. He ignores her. Something about that image—my glassy-eyed brother with a beer in his hand, ignoring the girl groveling for attention—makes me dizzy. I shoot to my bare feet, wondering how many pine needles I’ll have to pluck from the soles of my feet tonight, and head for the tent.
“Goodnight, everybody,” I call over my shoulder.
“’Night,” comes the unison response. They’re all too busy discussing Kelly’s boobs to care about me, thankfully.
The quick shuffle of footsteps behind me sounds too light to be my brother or Sam. I hesitate and look over my shoulder at the person bouncing toward me with a small flashlight.
“Hey,” Melinda says with a nervous smile. “I wanted to say thank you for the sleeping bag and bring you these.”
She shoves a pair of worn sneakers into my hands. I’ve seen her wear them at school enough times to know they’re hers. “Thanks,” I say. “You’re welcome for the sleeping bag, too.”
Before I can stop her, she gives me a warm hug. “Thanks for inviting Jesse and me up here. It’s hard making friends sometimes, you know?” She releases me before I have the chance to figure out where my arms go. “Oh, and here.”
This time, it’s her flashlight that’s shoved into my hand. “Jesse brought, like, eight of these things. He was a Boy Scout when he was a kid. G’night!”
What a strange, strange day I’m having.
Still struggling with the idea of Melinda calling herself my friend, I watch her bounce back through the trees to where Jesse waits by the fire. She flings herself into his arms, and soon, they vanish into the darkness where I recall seeing a red tent. When their flashlight beam clicks off, I slip on her shoes and make my way toward Alex’s enormous tent, wishing Sam had been the one to follow me.
Then again, I wouldn’t have made a friend if he had.
“Wait up,” my brother’s voice booms from behind me.
I unzip the door and wait, pointing the flashlight at the ground in front of me. Mosquitoes and moths flock to the little beam of light, bashing into the plastic lens and bumping into my hand. Forget this. Shuddering, I click it off.
“Could’ve left it on another ten seconds,” he grumbles when he stumbles into the tent. “Can’t see shit out here.”
Once again, he reminds me of our father. How many times has our father sat in his rust orange recliner grumbling about something or other? Sighing, I follow him into the tent and zip it up behind us.
“So here’s how this is gonna work,” he says. “You’re sleeping there—” he kicks my sleeping bag to the farthest wall “—and I’m sleeping right here.”
I blink at the tiny sliver of space left between the wall and where he’s unrolling his sleeping bag. We might as well be sharing one for how close to me he’s planning to sleep.
“I won’t be able to move if you’re that close. Scoot over a few feet.”
He ignores me and climbs into his bag. “You were right about this being more fun with friends. ‘Specially those cute little high school girls.”
As if he’s paid them any attention beyond making fun of Alex. “Glad you’re having so much fun,” I mutter. Unrolling my sleeping bag is next to impossible with how sloped the ceiling is against the wall, so I purposely trample James to get everything in place. He’s snoring before my bag is even unzipped.
When he’s drunk, James is almost impossible to wake, so I sit down, plant my feet on his hips, and shove him and his bag a foot farther away. Only then do I crawl into my bag and let the exhausting day draw me into the blackness.
Thirty
I’m having the good dream again—the one where Sam loves me and keeps me safe with his heated kisses and gentle caresses. Warm hands cradle my face. Soft lips dance across my closed eyes and my cheeks. My name, breathed softer than air, reaches my ears. Over and over he whispers my name, until I’m forced to drag myself back to consciousness and the realization that I’m lying in a sleeping bag on the cold tent floor.
The sensations don’t fade like they normally do.
“Sarah,” the whisper says again. “Wake up.”
My eyelids flutter open, his name on my lips. Before I can speak, he kisses me. It feels so good, his mouth covering mine, his tongue tracing my lips until I let him in. It feels dream good. On an impulse, I reach for his face expecting empty air.
Hot skin, sharp stubble, coarse wavy hair.
Sam.
I freeze.
He pulls away, grins, and glances over his shoulder at Alex’s empty bag and James, who has rolled another two feet away in his sleep. I snatch the flashlight Sam’s shining on my snoring brother and turn it off, my eyes wide with warnings I hope he understands.
He does.
Silently, Sam unzips my sleeping bag—maybe this is a dream, because that sleeping bag hadn’t been silent when I got into it—grabs Melinda’s shoes, and leads me out of the tent.
“Alex is staying in Kelly’s tent tonight, and your brother’s out for at least a couple more hours with how much he drank,” he informs me. “Which means you and I are going on a date.”
A date? I glance down at my rumpled flannel pants and Alex’s sweatshirt. “Can I at least put on my jeans?”
“They’re still wet. Besides, you won’t need your clothes where we’re going.”
I gape at him.
He laughs.
We spend the next fifteen minutes stumbling through thick ferns, climbing over logs, and avoiding moss infested boulders in silence. Finally, after what feels like forever, I hear water.
“The river?”
“Yep.”
Sam leads me through the last of the trees, down a steep slope to a concrete wall that juts out of the shallow part of the water and runs parallel to the embankment. With only a musty yellow floodlight illuminating the area, I can’t see how far it goes, but there’s definitely something on the other side of it. The roar of rushing water is much louder here than at our secret place.
“You kidnapped me to show me a wall?”
“Absolutely. Now, take off your shoes and roll up your pants.” I do, and he tows me into the shallow water by the hand. We stop at the base of the wall which I now see stands about six feet high. Squatting, he offers his linked hands to give me a boost.
“We’re climbing the wall?” I glance upstream, noting that the wall ends less than twenty feet away in that direction. “Why can’t we go around?”
“You’ll see. Hurry up.”
I gingerly step onto the center of his joined palms. As usual, I forget how strong Sam is. I’m in the air and scrambling onto the top of the wall half a second later. He pulls himself up behind me. It takes everything I have not to drool at how hot he looks doing physical things like climbing six foot walls.
“How’s your balance?”
“You’re just now asking me this?”
Chuckling, he walks effortlessly along the wall into the darkness downstream. “Keep up. If you fall in, I’ll need to be close enough to hear you hit the water.”
“Great. Just…great.”
Fortunately, thanks to years of walking along those bumper curbs in the mall parking lot while James and I avoided going home after school, I have excellent balance. I catch up to him immediately and nearly knock him into the water when he stops suddenly at the end of the wall.
And then I see what he’s looking at.
Below us, four square cement frames sit in a line beside a short waterfall. Water diverted from the stream swirls violently inside each of the six foot by six foot squares, spilling from one into the next until, finally free, it drains back into the stream at the base of the waterfall. They look like stairs made out of water. Or maybe a row of hot tubs that I very much doubt are hot.
“What are they?”
“Fish ladders,” he says, stripping off his t-shirt. “Fish use them to get upstream when the water’s running too fast to jump th
e falls. They’re great for cooling off.”
I gape at him for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. When he unbuttons his shorts, drops them, and drapes them with his shirt over the edge of the wall, my eyes feel like they’re going to pop from my head. “Naked?”
He stops short of pulling off his boxer briefs and gives me a wicked grin. “Well, I’d planned on keeping my underwear on, but you’re more than welcome to go in naked.”
“But…” I look back to the embankment and the stand of trees where we emerged from the forest. What if someone followed us? “We’re in public.”
After realizing I’m serious, Sam laughs so hard I’m afraid he might fall into the top step of the fish ladder. When he jumps in, I’m afraid he’s done just that.
“Sam!” I shriek, dropping to my knees on the concrete ledge.
He pops up, grinning, and smoothes his wet hair back from his face. “Water feels great,” he calls up to me. “C’mon in!”
Over the dull roar of the whirling water, I hear what sounds like footsteps crunching through the underbrush. Sam sees me peering into the woods and climbs the narrow metal ladder on his side of the wall.
“I thought I heard someone,” I tell him when he’s close enough for me not to shout.
When no mysterious stalkers appear, Sam shrugs. “It was probably an angler. The unlicensed ones come out at night and set up camp further upstream before the wardens start prowling the roads in the morning. They wouldn’t dare fish down by the ladders though, so we’re safe.”
Unconvinced, but even less willing to get caught standing up here, I strip off Alex’s sweatshirt and James’s flannel pants and hurry down the ladder. The water is freezing and deceptively deep, hitting me mid-chest, and I’m not prepared when the strong current sucks me toward the edge. Thank God for Sam or I might’ve fallen into the next one.
Holding me tight to his chest, he backs into the far corner and presses himself against the wall. My senses are on high alert with the cold water lashing at my legs and back contrasting sharply with his hot, smooth skin. When he starts kissing my neck, I almost forget about people following us, my father prowling around the house back at home, and James sleeping soundly in the tent.
