Taming the Revel (Endless Summer)

by Dawn Klehr

  “Are you even attracted to me?” she asked in his room. He’d snuck her in after the dance and gave her the bed while he slept on the floor. And she’d ended up mocking him for it.

  “Of course,” he told her. “Look at you.”

  “Are you sure there isn’t something you’re keeping from me?”

  Unlike Rebel, it wasn’t difficult to decode her questioning. She thought he was gay, like his dad. Right, because it’s genetic or contagious. Well, he wasn’t going to go down like that. So before Tiff could get the gossip squad on his ass, he devised some elaborate tales about college girls. Something that worked like a charm, considering the rumor made it all the way to Rebel.

  Though his stories had protected his cred, it didn’t mean things were easy. The team gave him hell every chance they could. Hence, the fights and general piss-poor attitude at practice.

  Kind of ironic that he’d been accused of being gay and was left to defend his dad’s honor time after time, yet Rebel really believed he was a homophobe.

  She didn’t have a clue what he’d been through in the past year.

  …

  They hiked deeper into the woods in silence, searching for the items on their list.

  Pinecone: Check.

  Clover: WTF was clover?

  Bird feather: Got it.

  And a bunch of crap that would take them at least an hour to find. The other campers had all disappeared by this point, scattering in different directions.

  Including Rebel.

  She was off running. Toward what? He had absolutely no idea. But she wasn’t leaving without him. He followed as she raced through the trees, pumping her arms in the air as she did. And when she slowed to a stop by a rotting log, he was on her heels.

  “We’re here, finally.” She held out her palm. “Hand me the little shovel in the bag.”

  Curious, he did as she asked.

  Rebel squatted close to the ground and started digging. He didn’t say a word, just watched as she dug up a bag that looked strangely similar to the one he holding is his hands.

  “What the hell?” He took a seat on the log.

  She giggled. “Give me our checklist, and let’s see what we’ve got.”

  He handed over the list and their bag, and she began transferring the items from one sack to another.

  “Whoo-hoo! They didn’t stray from last year’s list too much. We’re in really good shape.” She grinned, and it was contagious. Happy Rebel was so much more enjoyable than pissed off Rebel.

  “You buried that last summer?” he asked, taking the bag from her. He could tell it was getting a little heavy, and they were a long way from camp.

  “I did,” she said, proudly.

  It was brilliant. She was brilliant—taking the winnings from last year’s contest and hiding them, knowing she’d be here again doing the same thing.

  “Tenacious.” He nodded. He could appreciate that. And more? He could appreciate getting to camp before the others, because there was no way anyone was even close to completing their lists. Not to mention the perks they had coming their way.

  “You have no idea.” She winked.

  Oh, he knew just how determined she could be. She’d been busting his balls since he arrived. But now wasn’t the time to rehash all of that. He was thrilled to be done with the stupid contest and was desperate to get back to camp.

  “I owe you, Hart.” He nudged his body into hers, unsure she’d accept any other gesture of gratitude. At least she didn’t recoil from him this time as she had every other time they made contact.

  Progress.

  “We do have one more thing to pick up,” she reminded him. “But I think I know where to find it.”

  She took the lead again, and he didn’t mind one bit. Turned out, Rebel was someone he’d like to have on his side. As friends. Just as friends.

  This was his drama-free summer, and he planned to keep it that way.

  Too bad his body didn’t get the memo.

  Rebel bent over to pull out a flower or something, and the warming sensation that had been distracting him all day, began to travel south. He blamed those stupid shorts she liked to wear. They did amazing things to her butt, especially when she bent over.

  Great, now he sounded as skeevy as Gray.

  She plucked the leaves off of the plant and wiped the remaining root on her shirt, before peeling off a piece of it to eat. Then she offered it to him. “It’s wild ginger,” she explained. “Makes your breath fresh.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  Nope, definitely did not need fresh breath for a walk in the woods with his friend.

  “What are we looking for anyway?” he asked.

  “Bottle cap.”

  “And where do you expect to find a bottle cap so deep in the woods?”

  “There’s an old campsite, right over there.” She pointed to an area between the trees on their left.

  They moved in closer. This wasn’t an old site. It was a currently inhabited site. Who in their right mind would be camping out here? They peered around a group of pine trees to check it out. There was a yellow bikini and a pair of guy’s jeans hanging on a line on one side of the campsite and strings of lights on the other. In the middle sat a tiny one-man tent, a chair, and a fire pit.

  “Think they’re beer drinkers?” he asked, searching the ground for bottle caps.

  “I’d say more pot smokers by the smell of it.” She waved her hand over her nose. “But they need something to wash it down with, right? Come on, we’ll need to get closer.”

  They took a few steps toward the tent, and that’s when he saw it…

  There, in his direct line of vision, were two people totally going at it, and not even in the tent. No, they were on a blanket right out in the open. The image of a scrawny, white, bare ass burned into his brain. He’d never be rid of it.

  “Jesus Christ,” Justice said under his breath, before tripping over his own feet, which made the scrawny, white ass stop in mid… Ugh, he couldn’t even think it. But then the guy looked out into the woods.

  Justice’s body reacted on pure instinct, trying to escape the mortification. It was sketchy enough to be doing it out here, but to be watching? That was worse. Who in the name of Tom Brady would be hooking up in the woods, anyway? Weren’t there mosquitos and spiders and snakes and shit?

  He didn’t want to find out.

  Rebel stared at him in amusement, and with another step backward, his foot snagged on a branch. He tumbled, and not at all gracefully. Out of practice, he couldn’t remember how to control his fall.

  You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.

  He went down with a thud. Bracing his weight with his right hand was his first mistake. Yanking it away once he felt something sharp sink into his palm was his second.

  A gash across his hand dripped blood and stung like a son of a bitch. Shit, it was his throwing hand. Sitting with his ass on the ground, he lifted his palm to assess the damage, until he heard the couple on the other side of the trees. Great, the guy probably wanted to kick his ass, which was the last thing he needed right now.

  “Shit,” he whispered. “We’ve got to go.” He used the fabric of his T-shirt to wipe the blood, then he jumped up and grabbed Rebel with his good hand and ran.

  Dodging the trees that surrounded them, and maneuvering along the rocky hiking path, he led them through the woods at top speed. When they finally made it to a clearing, far enough away from Skinny Ass, he stopped.

  “Why are you so freaked out?” Rebel said, out of breath. “It was just Harper and Jessie.”

  “From camp?”

  “Yeah, those two are like bunnies. No place is safe,” she started to explain, before grabbing his injured hand. “Oooh, that’s bad. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” He played it off even though it was throbbing.

  “We need to go back,” she said, reaching into her back pocket. “Shoot, this is all I have.” She pulled out a bandage
. “I can’t believe I don’t have my first aid kit with me.”

  “No kidding. I thought you were the expert.” He hissed as the air hit the open wound.

  “You had me all flustered before we left. Gray’s comments and everything. Here, use the bandage for now until we get back and the nurse can clean it.”

  “No way, we need the bottle cap.” He used his T-shirt to soak up some of the blood.

  “Justice, seriously. It looks pretty bad.”

  “Help me with the bandage, and we’ll quickly find a bottle cap, and then go back.”

  She inspected his hand again from all angles. “Maybe it’s not that deep. But that dirty shirt probably has all kinds of bacteria on it. You have to get it cleaned.”

  “Yeah, when we get back after our big win,” he insisted, realizing that considering this a big win was really sad.

  “I don’t think you should wait.”

  “We don’t have a choice. I’m not asking Jessie, or his naked ass, for a bottle of water.” He shook off the heebie-jeebies.

  “Actually, water won’t do. You need something with antibacterial properties in it.”

  “Such as?” This should be interesting. Where was she going to find antibacterial crap out here? Extract some from a plant or dig up a tube? He wouldn’t put it past her. She was resourceful.

  “Such as saliva,” she said simply, like it was completely normal.

  “You want me to spit on my cut?” Surely, he wasn’t understanding her meaning. “Gross.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard the expression, lick your wounds? Every year 18,000 people die of bacterial infections from everyday cuts and scrapes, so I’m serious. If you want to continue the hunt, we need to take care of your hand.”

  “Honestly, Hart, where do you come up with this stuff?”

  “Wolf Wilks.”

  “What’s that now?”

  “He’s a famous survivalist. Or was. I’ve been watching his shows and reading his books since I was ten.”

  “Really?” Hmm, so that’s why she was carrying that monster-size book yesterday.

  “Hell yeah. I could keep us going out here for a month at least, without any outside help. So lick your wounds, and let’s go win this thing.”

  “Dude.” He tried not to gag. “I almost hacked up my breakfast after watching my own personal Naked and Afraid play out in front of my eyes—something I’ll never be able to unsee, by the way. Forgive me, but I cannot lick my bloody, gross, gnarly hand.”

  “You disappoint me, Brody.” She reached out to him. “Give it.”

  She wouldn’t, would she?

  Thankfully, she just shrugged and unwrapped the bandage. And then she closed the space between them. Every nerve ending in his body sparked in anticipation, knowing what was coming. She was about to touch him again. It didn’t matter why, only that their skin would be in direct contact.

  How? How does she turn me into a drooling idiot with only a touch?

  “Suit yourself,” she snarked, oblivious to his body’s reaction to her proximity. “But don’t come to me if it gets infected.”

  And then she bandaged his hand.

  Who would’ve thought that blood and dirt and Band-Aids could be so hot?

  Nobody, that’s who.

  But it didn’t make it any less true.

  Chapter Ten

  Survival Tip #4

  “Keep dry at all times, getting wet is the kiss of death.”

  Rebel

  Things with Ryan started out like this. She remembered it well—the bickering and teasing, the tension, the flirting. The touching and… Ugh, stop already.

  She helped with the bandage, desperately trying not to think about doing those things with Justice. Why would she want to do those things with Justice? It was purely a physical reaction, she convinced herself. His face was hypnotic like ah, ah—what?

  A serial killer’s.

  Yep, it was just like that. Justice was the charming, likeable type who lured people in, like Ted Bundy or Charles Manson. And if she didn’t watch it, she’d be the next victim on his list.

  Thankfully, she managed to bandage his hand without making a fool of herself. And they found a bottle cap a few minutes later. Great, it was time to win this thing.

  “Hurry up,” she yelled back to him. Honestly, for an all pro, he was pokey as heck.

  “Stop hassling me, woman.” Justice jogged up to her, bonked her on the head with a stick he picked up along the way, and sprinted back to the camp table to claim their winnings. He didn’t have to sprint. They’d won by a mile.

  Yet, even though she immediately felt his absence, she wasn’t going to follow him. That’d be really pitiful. She didn’t notice it until he was gone, but being with him was like having a little kid around, or maybe a pet ferret or potbelly pig—one of those really cute ones. Justice’s presence kind of overshadowed everything else going on. His perspective on things was more interesting than others. His laugh was louder, and his reactions were bigger than most. Honestly, when he fell over after seeing a camper, it was adorable. Justice might be the man on the field, but out here, there was an innocence to him.

  She waited for him down by the beach, but it was taking forever. With a hand to her forehead, she was able to shield the sun’s blinding rays and search him out. She soon discovered the cause of his delay.

  Figures.

  Crystal was the counselor in charge of the contest, and she always had a swarm of guys around her. There was no secret why. She had a yoga body, long and lean, with soft golden hair, and a perfect all-American face. She was exactly the sort of girl who you’d picture Justice with.

  So much for their moment in the woods.

  Thank God she’d become smart about such things. That was the gift Ryan had given her—surviving a dumping of massive proportions definitely helped her with priorities. And a special moment with a football star was not high on the list. Not even in the top 100.

  Rebel tried to remember that as she went down to the dock to soak her feet. Their hike was the most activity she’d had since last summer, and they were throbbing. Plus, the camp was a ghost town, so it might be a while before she had any company, and she was no longer interested in napping. Justice was to blame for that.

  The old wooden planks creaked as she walked down on the edge of the dock—it always unnerved her the way it moved under her feet. Once she was seated, and more stable, she began to relax. She felt even better when she dipped her toes into the lake. The water felt amazing on her skin as the rest of her body warmed in the sun. It was going to be a scorcher. Dad was right about the dark T-shirts. They locked in all of her body heat like a microwave, quickly cooking her skin. She wiped her brow and took a long sip from her canteen.

  Oh, screw it.

  Justice was flirting. The rest of camp was out in the woods. She was going in.

  She never went in. Well, unless she was thrown in. But when ten people died of drowning every single day, forget it. It wasn’t something she chose to do voluntarily, and yet she couldn’t take the heat. Plus, she promised herself she wasn’t going to be a downer anymore. So she stood up and moved back to the middle of the dock, and then squealed as she made a running jump into the water—clothes and all.

  Instantly cooled, she let herself sink to the sandy bottom of the lake. Her arms floated out to her sides, and the water gently lifted her up. She was weightless, inside and out. It was an amazing feeling.

  Or it did. Until she was pulled out from the water so hard, it felt like her arms would pop out from their sockets. It disorientated her at first, until she remembered those arms and the way she felt being held in them.

  What was Justice up to now?

  After being hauled up onto the beach, Justice laid her down in the sand and fell next to her. His hands were still awkwardly wrapped around her body as she wiped the water from her eyes. He was leaning over her, out of breath, his eyes burning into hers.

  “Are you okay?” he got out in between his d
eep breaths.

  “Yes, I’m okay,” she said, sitting up, spitting out water. “What are you doing? Trying to kill me?”

  “No.” He released his hold on her and sat back, but stayed close—so close, their legs were touching. “I’m trying to save you, dummy.”

  “Who said I need saving?” she asked.

  “You told me you can’t swim.”

  “Not can’t swim,” she explained, wringing the water from her shirt. “I don’t swim. As in, I choose not to.”

  “That would’ve been nice to know.” Justice pulled his shirt off and ran his hand through his hair. Water droplets clung to his lashes, and she had to fight the urge to wipe them away. “You about gave me a heart attack.”

  “You? I was the one in pure bliss until your man hands got ahold of me. Didn’t we have a no-manhandling rule?”

  He didn’t respond. At least she didn’t think he did. She kept yakking on, anything to keep her mind off what was really happening a mere foot away.

  It was unsettling. Justice sitting next to her with his shirt off. His skin so golden and smooth. His muscles all hard and ripple-y. She had to force herself not to stare.

  Suddenly, she was all too aware of her own clothes clinging to her body. She was ready to argue with him some more, pick a fight, anything to take back control of the situation. She could give him a lecture about the way he assumed a woman needed a man to save her. Yeah, that would do it. But when she opened her mouth, Justice was already leaning in.

  He was leaning in.

  Her words caught in her throat as he lifted her chin slowly, softly, as if asking permission. Yet somehow, she answered him. With words or a look, she had no idea. But in the next moment his lips pressed against hers, and then they were kissing—so light and gentle at first, it didn’t seem real. She closed her eyes and surrendered to it. To him.

  It was a kiss that made her remember and forget everything all at once.

  She remembered how much she wanted this. She’d imagined it thousands of times since that day in her room, and she forgot why she was mad at him in the first place. None of that mattered now. This was finally happening.