“Something you need to remember when people call you out, like I did this morning,” I said, crossing my arms.
Grant paused, his neutral expression shifting after a minute. “You’re going to make this summer difficult, aren’t you?”
“Not if you don’t call me out for being sensitive, then turn around and act that way,” I said. “You get what you dish out. It’s fair.”
“That is fair, but let’s get one thing straight,” he said. “I never said you had nothing to offer.”
“It was implied,” I said, studying him.
“Maybe we were both in the wrong.”
“Maybe,” I said, looking at him.
He opened the screen door, and the air inside was at least ten times colder than mine. Inside, two rows of metal-framed twin-sized beds boasted navy-and-white checkered bedspreads. Besides the solitary Camp Kenton flag hanging above the counselor bed, the cabin was devoid of decoration. Once I got my beds set up, the only advantage he would have were cleaner floors and a better-organized room.
“Will you tell me where to find the bedding?” I said, looking at him again.
“I would’ve shown you yesterday, had you decided to work on your cabin rather than getting yourself lost,” he said.
“That was yesterday,” I said. “How ’bout we focus on the here and now? Where should I check? The counselor cabin or camp office?”
“Neither,” he said.
“Laundry room?”
“Negative,” he said. “And, before you ask, they aren’t in the mess hall or any of the other buildings.”
“What did y’all do, ship them off for dry cleaning?” I said, crossing my arms.
“Um, no,” he said. “They were washed prior to us getting here, stored in the counselor cabin until ready for pickup, and currently lie with yours truly. I grabbed your set yesterday, when I grabbed mine. That’s what responsible co-counselors do.”
“Great. Fork them over,” I said, holding out my hand.
“Which would take away any and all leverage I currently hold,” he said, smiling. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I let out a long sigh, irritation bubbling. “Look,” I said. “I’ve had a day full of scrubbing that side of the cabin and I’m literally a handful of comforters away from being prepped for campers. Give me my sheets and quit being difficult.”
“Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “First you need to squeeze in the mandatory CPR training and get the other necessary credentials you were supposed to have before you came out here.”
“Are you kidding?” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “We were making such great progress and now you want to swoop in and wreck it?”
“What?” he said. “You might have pulled your cabin together, but you’ve still got a million other things to do before you’re actually ready for campers. I’m just being a realist.”
“No, you’re being a jerk!” I said, throwing up my hands.
“I’m not being a jerk,” he said, hurrying after me. “You’re being sensitive again.”
“Sensitive?!” I turned on him, eyeing his smug expression with clenched fists. “I literally came here for bedding and all I got was another go-around with you. For crying out loud, you can’t even have one conversation with me without being negative. I’m untrained. I get it. I’m incapable. I get it. But I’m here to stay. Get over it!”
I hurried down the steps, landing on the dirt with a thud. If he couldn’t even help me with bedding, how on earth was he supposed to help me with campers?
“Why are you running?” he said, dirt crunching beneath his feet.
“Because every time I’m around you, you find a new way to annoy the hell out of me.”
He slid in front of me as I passed cabin one, blocking my path.
“Get out of my way,” I said, trying to dodge him.
“I feel like you’re blowing this way out of proportion,” he said, blocking me again.
I stopped, glaring at two burning hazel eyes as they watched me beneath the brim of his cap. He was gorgeous, despite his personality flaws, but trying to deal with someone as hotheaded and stubborn as Grant wasn’t worth it. I had money on the line. He had nothing.
“You can get out of my way, or I’ll get you out of my way,” I said.
“Alex.”
“Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”
“Here we go again,” he said, letting me pass.
Counselors, most of whom were more than ready for campers, sat on the counselor cabin’s porch. I walked the path to the main office, glancing at Kira as Grant slowed his pace. She could be his co-counselor. She was better equipped to put up with him.
Classic country drifted through screened-in windows. I took the steps two at a time and then rapped my fist against the door rapidly. The door opened seconds later. Loraine stood on the other side, her smile dropping as I pushed my way in.
“Do you have a minute?” I said, turning on her before the door was even closed. “Better question: Do you have a replacement for the terrible co-counselor you stuck me with?”
Loraine froze in place, her glasses low on her nose.
“Because he’s making me question my college fund. I’d rather drop out of school and be broke than try to spend the summer with Grant,” I said.
“Sit down,” she said, crossing the room.
Sandwiched by a copier, fax machine, and two rows of filing cabinets, Loraine’s office had too many mountains of papers and hardly any organization; it was surprisingly chaotic given her otherwise put-together demeanor.
I plopped into one of the oversized chairs across from her desk, letting out a long exhale as I sat forward. “Let’s cut to the chase, Loraine. I’m not qualified to be a counselor and you know it. Give me a job I can do, and put me out of my misery before campers get here and make everything ten times harder.”
She took a seat in a rolling leather chair, staring at me. “Who said you weren’t qualified?” she said, an edge in her tone.
“It’s common knowledge,” I said, frowning. “I’m the least capable counselor you have, and more of a hindrance than anything.”
“You aren’t a hindrance,” she said, shaking her head. “You can relate to these kids on a level most can’t. Certifications aside, you’ll be a great counselor. If someone has an issue with it, they’re more than welcome to take it up with me. I’m here all day, every day.”
I pulled my lip between my teeth. Her confidence far exceeded my own. “You and I both know Grant would be better off paired with someone who can tolerate him. That isn’t me. Give him someone else. Give me a break.”
“This summer isn’t supposed to be an easy one,” she said, straightening. “It’s supposed to be a learning lesson. You and Grant just need to figure out how to work as a cohesive pair. I think you’ll find you actually have more in common than either of you realize.”
“We have nothing in common!” I said, scowling. “Talking to him is like talking to a wall. Talking to him makes me want to beat my head against a wall.”
“Grant is the most qualified counselor I have,” Loraine said, quirking a brow. “He’s the only option for a co-counselor. Sorry, but that’s reality.”
“Putting up with him isn’t worth that much money,” I said, sighing.
Loraine eyed me behind her glasses, the look somewhere between sympathetic and annoyed. She looked too much like my mother for me to be comfortable. Another set of issues on an ever-growing list.
“I think you and Grant just need time to get to know each other,” she said, sitting back in her chair. “Give it more than a few days. If you’re still having issues, we’ll sort it out then.”
“How am I supposed to get to know him when we all he does is nitpick me?” I said. “He’s hot. I appreciate that. But he’s literally the most annoying human I’ve ever met. Are you trying to set me up for failure?”
“Not even close,” she said. “Despite how you feel about him, pairing you with Grant is setting you
up for success. He knows how to handle these kids, and trust me when I say you’ll need a partner who can do that. If I can’t get to you quick enough, he can. He’s a nonnegotiable. You’re paired with him or you’re not here at all.”
“Another ultimatum,” I said, fists balling at my sides.
“I know you don’t like it, but you can either figure out a way to make it work with him or you can go home,” she said. “The choice is up to you.”
She faced her computer. Dolly Parton’s southern drawl was deafening as I stalked to the door. This catch-22 from hell left me on the crappy end of everyone’s options. I could deal with Grant or leave. Stay at camp, go to boarding school, or lose my money. There was no winning situation.
I took the long way to my cabin, brushing along the tree line that ran the edge of camp. Navigating the summer with someone like Grant was like painting in the dark. There was no way to identify the colors—no way to know what picture I would get.
A gazebo sat in the space between the cabins and the pool, its wooden structure decorated with lights hung from the ceiling. In the daylight, they did little in the way of decoration. I plopped onto one of the wooden benches and stared at the cabins, mulling over my options.
That money was rightfully mine. After the year I’d had—the trauma I’d survived—letting someone like Grant get to me was like failing myself. I’d earned this. I deserved something good, out of a year full of hell.
Too much time passed before I dragged myself off the bench. I swiped sweaty hands against my shorts and headed for the cabins in the distance, resigned to my fate. If Grant was the only counselor option, we would have to make it work. This summer was more important than the issues between us.
The road leading past the cabins had counselors on either side, but I slumped up the stairs toward my side with no energy to try to be social. Tomorrow I would make that effort. Tomorrow I would try to be something other than strong-willed and stubborn.
I slowed as I reached the screen door on the girls’ side, cocking my head as I surveyed the door, propped open by the metal latch at the top. Cold air flowed through to the outside, and the contents inside were way different than when I left.
Slowly, I crossed the threshold. My mouth fell open as I turned a circle, studying the beds. Lined in two rows, six twin-sized beds had buffalo-plaid comforters carefully draped over them. Beige linens showed beneath each; matching red-and-black pillows carefully rested on top.
The counselor bed had the same comforter and sheet set, but a white pillow with Camp Kenton’s emblem in the center was placed neatly against the headboard. As I crossed the room, the smell of Pine-Sol was thick in the air. Even the floors wore a deep chestnut color I hadn’t been able to uncover, polished to perfection and far cleaner than when I left.
As I slowed in front of the counselor bed, my eyes landed on a piece of paper lying against the pillow. I picked it up; the messy scrawl was hardly legible.
Had to prop the door open. My Pine-Sol to water mixture was too thick. You’re welcome.—Grant.
My cheeks flushed as I stared back at the door, shock and awe flitting their way across my mind. If he went through all this trouble, it had to be for a reason. Either guilt got to him, or Loraine did.
Regardless, it was a step in the right direction. If he could try, so could I.
6
Optimism
An hour and a half of mentally running back and forth between Grant’s motives had me lying on my newly made bed with my eyes on the ceiling and zero answers. Why had he gone through the effort of helping me? Was it fear of Loraine? Guilt? An attempt at getting my forgiveness?
I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head, eyes still on the ceiling. Lying here thinking about the situation was getting me nowhere. The only one with an actual answer was Grant. If he wasn’t asleep.
I hauled myself off the mattress and crossed the room slowly, then hauled open the screen door to the dark. The porch creaked as I continued to the other side, hesitating as I studied his door. I stared at the door too long to be reasonable, then raised my hand and knocked quietly.
“This is stupid,” I mumbled, taking a step back. “He’s sleeping. He’s totally passed out and here I am, waking him up, and for what? For the sake of being—”
“Completely and utterly annoying?” Grant said from behind me, making me jump.
I spun, clutching my chest as he let out a deep laugh.
“I was wondering when you would be by to say thank you,” he said, crossing the porch. His shirt clung to his body; a towel was draped around his neck and the smell of chlorine was thick on him.
“I really thought you would be by before ten o’clock, but that’s what I get for guessing.” He stopped in front of me, crossing his arms. “Unless I’ve misjudged your reason for being here.”
“I would’ve come sooner, but I was trying to figure out who you are and what you did with Grant,” I said, shaking my head.
“It’s called a peace offering,” he said. “I’m good at pushing people’s buttons, but worse at apologizing. I hope that was enough to get my point across.”
“It was,” I said, nodding.
“Good,” he said, moving for his door. He pulled it open, glancing inside. “I’m going to throw this towel on the rack and put on a clean shirt. Was that all you wanted, or did you need something else?”
“No,” I said, stepping backward. “I was just coming to say thank you.”
“Nothing about a counselor switch?” he said, raking a hand through his hair.
“You aren’t that lucky,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re stuck with me, zero counselor abilities and all.”
“Lucky me,” he said, stepping inside the cabin.
“Lucky you,” I repeated.
I took another step back, walking toward my side.
“Would you be up for hanging out for a little bit?” I heard him say as I passed the metal 2 between our doors. “If Loraine is dead set on sticking you with me, I need to clue you in on what to do and what not to do around campers. We’re on a limited timeline here. Unless you plan on winging it once you’ve got a group of moody fourteen-year-olds staring you in the face.”
“Is winging it really such a bad plan?” I said, pausing.
“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but it’s literally the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard.”
He shuffled around his side of the cabin for a minute, then walked through the door while pulling a shirt over his head. I glanced at his stomach for a fraction of a second, clearing my throat as he straightened out his shirt and attemped to smooth wayward strands of brown hair.
“You can’t walk into this without a solid plan,” he said, continuing toward a hanging swing on his side of the porch. “That’s like jumping into freezing water and hoping you don’t end up with hypothermia.”
“At least you’d get numb after a while,” I said, following him.
“Yeah, and then your toes would fall off and you’d die,” he said. He took a seat on the swing, slinging his arm around the back of it while I took a seat. In the dark, the features of his face were softer. Either he was tired, or he had lost some of the edge he’d worn earlier in the day.
I settled in beside him, relaxing against the swing while his long legs rocked it back and forth. Night had grasshoppers chirping on the path below. I listened to them for a minute, keeping my eyes more focused on the porch than on Grant.
“I think the biggest part of doing this job lies in being able to walk a very thin line between being their friend and being the authority figure,” he said after a minute. “If you drift too far to one side, they see you as an equal. If you stay too far removed, they can’t relate to you. It’s hard to balance, even as someone who’s lived both sides.”
“What does that mean?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, staring at me. He rocked the swing back and forth, eyeing me quietly. “Step one is to focus on the very real campers who will b
e walking this porch in the very near future. Worry about them. Worry less about me.”
“Fine,” I said, scrunching my nose. “What’s your best advice on counseling these kids? Bribery? Empathy?”
“Empathy first,” he said, chuckling. “Take an interest in who they are and what they’re here to get, but when all else fails bribery is a solid second choice.”
“Sounds easy enough,” I said.
“It is easy, as long as you’re receptive,” he said. “Don’t judge them. Don’t think you know them. Listen. Learn. Adjust. Remember, you set the temperature of your cabin. You want them to warm to you. Don’t distance yourself from them.”
“Except I distance myself from everyone,” I said.
“Out of habit?” he said.
“Out of necessity,” I answered.
I swallowed, pushing images of Nikki from my mind. Distance was the easiest form of protection. Letting people in left room to get hurt. I learned my lesson with Mitch, then Nikki. Keeping things shallow, superficial, was my best option. Always would be.
“Letting myself get attached to these kids is definitely going to be the hardest part,” I said, staring at him. “If I can’t, what’s another option for making this work?”
“There isn’t one.”
“Great. Might as well pack my bags,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Take it from someone who spent the greater part of his childhood putting up walls. If I can let these kids in, so can you,” he said. “You’ll realize the lessons they have to teach you are way more important than protecting yourself from whatever you’re trying to keep out.”
“Wow. You actually sound like you know what you’re talking about,” I said, nudging him.
“I told you. I’m the best counselor out here,” he said. “The more you listen, the more you’ll learn.”
“You’re also incredibly humble,” I said, grinning.
“The most humble of them all.” After a moment, he stood, offering me his hand. “Just know things are never as hard as you think they are, but if you ever start having legit issues with your campers I’m just next door. Get me anytime.”
Last Chance Summer Page 6
