by Sierra Hill
I initially laid eyes on Logan at dinner the first night of camp. I was in line waiting to get my grub when I noticed her stand up from a table and walk over to the milk dispenser. My friend, Brandon, had to shove me in the back to get me to move forward because my feet were literally glued to the floor. I just stood there immobile and dumbly stared at her filling up her milk.
I ask Brandon over my shoulder, “Who the hell is that?”
Brandon follows my eyes and land on the girl. She was laughing at something her friend said to her.
“Logan something,” he says, annoyed with my immobility, impatiently cutting ahead of me in line. “Kind of a stupid name for a girl, isn’t it? It’s a boy’s name.”
I shuffle forward, slopping some fries on my plate and look back to find her returning to her table. Good, there’s two seats next to her and her friend. Exactly where Brandon and I will sit for the next two weeks if we’re lucky.
“I think it’s a beautiful name.” I whisper softly, mainly to myself because Brandon is already way ahead of me in line.
We maneuver through the cafeteria, Brandon heading over toward the table where our friends are already sitting when I casually steer him in the opposite direction.
He snarls at me. “What the fuck, dude? What are you doing?”
“Hopefully getting us laid this summer, bro.”
It may have been an overly confident statement, but I have no other ammunition with Brandon. He’s just like any other fifteen-year-old boy – horny-as-fuck and motivated by any way he can get in a girl’s pants.
Reluctantly he follows me toward the table where Logan and the other chick sat. I set my tray down next to Logan, as both her and her friend’s heads popped up to find us standing there, towering above them.
“Hey.” I say, because at fifteen, I have no brilliant pick-up lines in my arsenal.
The girl across from Logan shrieks, as if she’s just seen a mouse scurry across the cafeteria floor. “Hi!”
Logan rolls her eyes, saying nothing in return.
“Can Brandon and I sit with you guys?”
Logan’s friend bobs her head furiously, giggling and playing with her hair. Logan just shrugs and mumbles, “Have at it. It’s a free country.”
I give Brandon a nod, motioning him across the table to giggly-girl, as I throw my legs over the bench to slide in next to Logan.
“I’m Carver Edwards. This is Brandon Penske.” I say by way of introduction. Logan just gives me a huff and continues noshing on a potato chip, seemingly uninterested in anything the two of us can offer.
Hmm. Tough crowd.
Then out of nowhere, Logan jerks back suddenly, screeching out an “Ow!” I notice her friend is smirking at her, like she’s kicked her under the table. My gaze slides between them both, finally landing back on her friend.
Giggly-girl smiles coyly. “I’m Emma and this is Logan. She’s not normally this bitchy.” I barely understand her through her annoying giggles.
I direct my comment to Logan, shifting next to her so I can look at her when I speak. “Cool name, Logan. I like it.”
Truthfully, I expected to get a smile or something from her, but I get nothing.
“Where are you guys from?”
Because this is a camp run up in the wilds of Canada, most of the campers are from the local areas or at least somewhere in British Colombia. That’s where Emma is from.
“I’m from Burnaby. This is my second year here.” She smiles broadly, showing off her brace-covered teeth, but I barely spare her a glance. Instead, I continue staring at the pretty girl next to me.
The prettiest girl I’d ever seen.
She has this silky, golden blonde hair that’s pulled up in knot on top of her head. I lean over the table, reaching for a napkin and catchimg a whiff of her perfume. It’s powdery-soft and makes me salivate for some reason. It also makes me wonder if she smells like that everywhere. And yep, just like that, I have an erection.
I don’t have a lot of experience with girls yet. I’d made out with a few from school and my neighbor, Trendil, from down the street. Got to first base with her when her parents weren’t home. I was hoping for a blow job, but she said she wouldn’t do that, even though I heard from Michael Daugherty that she sucked him off the summer before.
I must be invading Logan’s comfort zone because she leans to her left, giving me a sidelong glance.
“Ever heard of personal space, Carver Edwards?”
Oh fuck, the sound of her voice saying my name has me nearly running back out to the latrines to rub one out. It has this kind of a raspy-quality, but maple syrupy at the same time.
It’s then that I realize I’m hovering a little too close so I sit back, allowing her to resume an upright sitting posture. But when she does straighten, it makes her boobs stick out even farther. And now all I’m picturing is her great rack in a bikini.
“So where are you from, Logan?”
She sighs heavily. “If I tell you, will you leave me alone?”
I laugh. Fat chance of that happening. “Why would I want to do that? I just got here. And the scenery at this table is awesome.”
I take a bite of my hamburger and grin – the one I know girls like, and the smile that the old ladies at my church always swoon over, pinching my cheeks hard with fervor.
Emma giggles (again) and I hear Brandon let out an expletive. “Jesus, he’s a fucking sap.” More giggles escape Emma’s mouth.
Logan turns to face me and gives me the once over. I’m wearing a Washington Husky basketball jersey, backward baseball cap, and light-weight basketball shorts. Casual camp attire.
When her blue eyes finally make their way to my face, I give her my brightest smile. The one I know brings out my dimple on my left cheek. For some reason, girls go nuts over my single-dimple. And sure enough, I see a flicker of interest, but then it’s doused just as quickly.
Another sigh. “I’m from Skagit Valley. Live on a farm. There. Are you satisfied now?”
Wow. For being such a hot chick, she had a tremendously big chip on her shoulder. Don’t know what that’s about. But I am going to make it my goal this summer to break it off and make her mine. I have no other alternative. She is by far the hottest girl I’ve ever met, and with that ‘don’t fuck with me attitude,’ – I have to have her.
“Cool. You’re not too far from me. I live in Mer-” I’m about to divulge where I live, because we both live in Washington, but I don’t want to tip the scales on her animosity toward me. Knowing that she’s from a small farming town, I don’t want her to get the wrong impression about me. My parents may be rich, but I’m not about to flaunt it in front of her. I may use it as an advantage to get things I want in other situations, but I can already tell she’d be turned off by it.
I decide to go with something less identifying to keep our conversation alive. “I live on the eastside. We’re practically neighbors.” I smile again, wiggling my eyebrows and clinking my plastic cup against hers. She rolls her eyes like I’m the stupidest boy she’s ever met.
And that’s how I was first introduced to Logan Shaw. My dream girl.
Now, after spending two full days of valiantly trying to win her affections, I’m finally able to chisel away a little of the ice that seems to cover her pretty exterior. The four of us had gone hiking this morning and ended up on the cliffs at Panorama Ridge overlooking Singing Creek. The creek is at least twenty-feet deep in this section, where the mountain snow runoffs end up gathering in early spring, creating a deep basin watering hole in the summer.
Perfect for cliff diving. After I’d made that suggestion to the crew, both Brandon and Emma declined, no matter how many names I called them over their pussing-out. They thought it looked too dangerous.
But not Logan. She was all in. In fact, we argued over who would jump in first. I tried to contend that as the guy, I should go first to ensure it was safe. She concluded that girls should go first. So instead, we compromised and jumped together.
/> Hand in hand. Screaming at the tops of our lungs as we crashed into the water below.
Best thrill of my life.
And now for the last two hours, we’ve been swimming, laughing and talking under the heat of the sun. She’s so beautiful with her long, wet hair, shining with wet droplets of water. It just accentuates her dewy tanned skin that glistens in the creek’s reflection.
Fuck, I want to touch her so badly.
I want to kiss her even more, but I’m afraid she’ll resist. I’ve been working hard to keep my distance in the water, aside from the head dunking competition we have going between us. At one point, my hands were clasped at the top of her head, as I pushed her down underwater, her nose brushing up against cock. I turned hard in an instant, my thoughts going to what it would be like if her lips touched my dick.
I freeze as she comes up sputtering, calling me every dirty name in the book, but I can’t move or think. I watch the water droplets cascading down her face and into her open mouth.
Fuck me, this is hard.
Literally. My dick is so hard I think it might crack like marble under the pressure of the blood pumping furiously down there. I might go off like a geyser.
I can’t stand it any longer. I have to kiss her.
My toes touch the pebbled bottom of the slippery creek and I move forward an inch, reducing the space between us so that when she finally blinks the water out of her eyes and opens them, she gasps at how close we are. Our noses nearly touch.
I’ve kissed girls before. Countless girls starting in the sixth grade. Yet I know instinctively that kissing Logan will be different. It will change me. I don’t know how, but I feel it through every pore and every cell of my body.
Logan’s lids close slightly, eyelashes wet with mountain spring water. I bend forward, zeroing in on her dewy lips. I feel her warm breath against my face and then I close the remaining distance, my arm capturing her waist and yanking her into my body.
It’s incredible. The feel of her slick, tight body against my chest. Heaven.
My mouth latches onto hers in the briefest of touches, really just to test the waters. She hasn’t budged or swam away, so I know she wants this too. I open my eyes for a peek at her and notice how serene her face looks, her eyelashes fanning across her cheeks, the pink of her cheekbones adding even more color to her already tanned face.
I slide both hands down her back, until I’m cupping her butt, and hike her up into my arms. She gasps a tiny intake of air, but it doesn’t linger because I’m sucking it up with my mouth. This time, it’s a solid, hot kiss that goes on forever. My tongue invades her mouth, taking possession of what’s mine. She’s hesitant at first, flicking her tongue sweetly over mine. My hands have a mind of their own, squeezing and caressing her ass, which is only covered by a flimsy bikini bottom.
Her skin is so warm and her body soft and pliable. I glide one hand up her back to her neck and I feel the goosebumps scatter over her skin. She lets out a sexy whimper and the dam bursts open as Logan lets go of her inhibitions. It hits me like ecstasy, like the cascading fall of the water above us rushing through the open waters, drenching us in a deluge of lust.
She begins rocking her hips into my stomach, hitting the tip of my cock with enough pressure and friction that I’m sure as fuck going to come. We groan wildly together – probably loud enough to scare away any forest creatures in the area.
My fingers are just about to skim between her legs when we hear shouts from the shore. Brandon and Emma stand on the bank of the river calling after us.
“Hey Carver! Hate to break up your make-out session, but we gotta get back before old man Stellan makes an example out of us for being late and gives us kitchen duty.”
Fucking Stellan and fucking Brandon for interrupting us. Stellan’s the Camp Director and already seems to have it out for me. He’s like thirty, and acts like a perv, always finding ways to flirt with the girls at camp. There’s a rumor going around already that he likes his girls young and virgin.
I’m about to wave Brandon on ahead so I can continue kissing Logan – damn the consequences - when she wiggles out of my arms and swims to shore, leaving me in waist deep water with a raging hard-on. I’ve got about five-seconds before I need to get out, so I try to conjure up any and all boner-killer thoughts to alleviate the pressure. Basketball stats. My Aunt Carla’s saggy cankles. Jabba the Hut from Star Wars.
Yet at the same time, counteracting my intentions, my eyes veer toward the beach as Logan steps out of the water, her incredible ass and long legs on full display. She’s wet and sexy, and I now know what her body feels like. Every other thought flies out of my brain.
Logan Shaw is going to be mine.
****
I wake from a dream that I can’t quite place.
It made me feel warm. Tingly. Contented.
But now my brain feels fuzzy. My mouth is dry as the Sahara and tastes like I’ve just eaten cat litter. There’s a whirring sound in the background and a weird vibrating, suctioning noise. I can’t feel my face.
But holy fuck, I think there’s a jackhammer beating on my skull.
Prying my eyes open, I blink several times to clear my vision. There’s a light shining above me and something covering my eyes to shield me from the brightness. I can hear voices on both sides of me in stereo, but I can’t turn my head to see anything.
My jaw is throbbing, propped open with some sort of rubber block. I’m not afraid to admit that I’m a little freaked out, uncertain about what’s going on, so my body does what comes naturally. I instinctively try to get up. To move. To escape this weird reality.
And then I hear it. The sultry, angelic voice from my past that reminds me of sweet summer nights under star-filled skies.
“Carver, hang tight. We’re almost done here and then we’ll explain what’s going on.”
I turn my head to the side as far as it goes to find the beautiful face attached to that melodic voice.
Logan.
The one person I should hate with every fiber of my being, yet can’t seem to truly rid from my thoughts.
She embodies everything that I’ve ever loved and lost.
Chapter 5
Logan
It’s well after nine p.m. when Dr. Connell and I finish up with the placement of Carver’s temporary tooth. I haven’t had a date in a long time, but I can almost guarantee this isn’t how they end up – having to do emergency oral surgery on your ex-boyfriend, whom you haven’t seen or heard from in over four years.
It’s a little unnerving.
Carver has been so doped up on whatever pain medication they’d given him at the arena, that he was out for the entirety of the procedure. We still had to numb him up, though, before we began, since the tooth root was exposed. I know he’s going to be in a ton of pain for the next few days, as the nerve is super sensitive after procedures like this.
I’ll be honest. Even in my darkest hours, when I cursed Carver’s name for leaving me high and dry, I’d never wish this type of pain on him. I know he’s a tough college basketball player and all but this kind of oral trauma can leave even the strongest man lying in a weeping mess on the floor.
Dr. Connell is back in his office to finish up his medical charting and procedural notes, as I remain behind in the exam room with Carver. I’ve been desperately trying to keep my focus on the small tasks associated with after-surgery protocol, but my attention continues to veer over to the beautiful man lying in the dental chair.
The air around me ripples with a strange sort of energy. It’s kinetic – filtering through the small alcove room, zapping me with awareness of Carver. The rise and fall of his chest as he inhales and exhales the same air I breathe. The scent of him – musky, masculine; powerful but not overpowering. I’m overcome with flashes of images – memories I’ve shoved in the back of my mind that are now clawing their way out.
And when Carver speaks for the first time since he’s been in the chair, my body sizzles with heat. His voic
e blankets me with its deep tone. Warm and comforting. Although, it’s kind of hard to keep a straight face when he talks, with his tongue and mouth still numb, causing him to slur his words like a drunk.
But I do my best impersonation of a dental professional and avoid laughing at him.
“Whas hathaned thu me?” I think he means, ‘what happened to me?’
My back was to him, so I turn toward him, just enough so I can see him in my periphery vision as I answer. His unfocused eyes wear a confused expression.
“Someone clocked you good in the face. Broke your nose and knocked out your front tooth. We extracted the bone fragment and put in a temporary bridge. Once you heal, you’ll need to return for a permanent replacement.”
He groans and goes silent for a second, before asking, “Why are you here?”
I’ve been preparing for this question, but still don’t know what to say. Or know where to begin. It’s such an unusual situation and I’m still digesting how this all came about.
I take a long breath and exhale before I swivel in my chair to face him.
His hair is matted to his head, and I still have the napkin bib tied around his neck. His nose is swollen and he’s already turning a deep black and blue underneath his eyes from inflammation.
He looks downright horrible. Like he got beat up.
Even so, he still looks good. Better than good.
Carver Edwards was a good-looking teenager - cute in a mischievous way. But now he’s just downright hot. An unbelievably gorgeous man.
Sexy, tattooed biceps are on full display in front of me, which I was ogling while he was under anesthesia. There’s tribal ink, a devil and a pitchfork, and some other tats that I don’t recognize. There were no tattoos on his body the last time I saw him.
Just another realization that our lives have changed in that time and so much has happened since we last met.
I straighten my spine as I look down on his imposing figure.
“To answer your question, I work here. And by a weird twist of fate, Dr. Connell and I just happened to be at your game tonight because Jeff knows the arena physician, who enlisted our help when you got hit. Does that clear things up? Are you in any pain?”
