Entangled Summer

by Barrow-Belisle, Michele

  He lifted his head slowly, his eyes eclipsed by a shadow. “Pardon?”

  I could hear Kenzie’s voice clucking in my mind, telling me I was going to blow it. But it didn’t add up. “My interview sucked. Miss Strange as much as said so herself. There were hundreds of applicants, most way more qualified than me. So why am I really here?”

  I must be losing my mind. It was risky, bringing up my lack of qualifications. But in the last year alone, I’d lost my college acceptance, my home, my dignity, and my best friend’s favorite bra. Sounds trivial I know, but I think that was the lacy-black-straw that broke the camel’s back. Makes sense that the next thing to lose was my mind.

  Troy set down his papers and folded his arms. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow, showing off his lean, deeply tanned forearms. “This school is special Nora. And so is everyone who comes to work here.”

  “That part was in the pamphlets,” I said.

  “Then you must sense that there's more to it than meets the eye. And because of that, we don't hire the people who look like the best fit on paper. We hire the ones who will be the best fit in actuality. We chose you. I, chose you.”

  I frowned at the butterflies slam-dancing in my midsection. “Then why the psych profiling? Why the counseling Miss Strange is forcing me into?”

  “She's the expert on mental health and stability. We have to make sure your mind is strong enough to handles what it could face.”

  What could my mind face, other than a psycho in a goalie mask running through the woods taking out campers? That much I expected already. Slowly, my brows tightened. “So, you knew about this?”

  He eyed me evenly. “I authorized her request.”

  A spark lit in my chest as rage and longing burned through me. I’d crossed over humiliated and embarrassed and awkward and into full on fury. The guy had three computer monitors, a tablet and a smart phone in his bedroom. He remembered the world clock time zones for every country on the planet, but not a one night stand from a year ago? God, you’d think he’d have an app for that, or something. And he thinks I need help. I stood, scooped up the pile of papers, and threw them at him.

  “Screw you. You know nothing about me. You don’t even know who I am.”

  “And you would be...?”

  “Leaving.” I shouted, flipping my blue tipped ponytail over my shoulder. I stormed away from him, from the stage, from his judgment and scrutiny. I didn't need their money. Not like this. I’d rather scrape roadkill off the highway for five bucks an hour, than spend my summer here with him.

  “Not exactly what I was asking Nora.” he called after me patiently.

  “Oh no?” How many ways can you say I don’t give a crap?

  Troy’s footsteps jogged to catch up to me, then he caught my arm. “No. It wasn't.”

  His arm flexed as he held mine. Jeez, he really smelled good. My eyes locked on his then pulled away. Eyes one the floor. Not on him. I averted my gaze and tried to walk away, but he held fast.

  “I'm not judging you. You do know that, right?”

  Clearly I didn't know a damn thing, considering I'd just told my boss to screw-off and take his life-saving salary with him.

  “What makes you such an expert on the human mind that you think you have the right to enforce the monitoring of others?” I lifted my chin. “Pretty ballsy, considering.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Considering?”

  “People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

  “You seem to be implying something Nora, spit it out.” He released my arm.

  “Maybe someone with such an ailing memory shouldn't be running a business. Or teaching kids. Or diagnosing his staff.”

  I felt him smile. How can you feel someone smile? It only made me more furious with him.

  He leaned against a tree, arms crossed over his chest.

  I watched the way his biceps flexed. Stop. Looking. At. His. Muscles.

  “June 6th, one year ago to the date last Friday. You had cherry pink lipstick, that actually tasted like cherries. Your hair was red and smelled like wildflowers. You wore a yellow sweater. V-neck. And a black lace bra. Clap in the front. You ordered the New England clam chowder, but ate dessert first—s’mores cheesecake.

  A pinprick of regret pierced me over my earlier comment. Clearly he did remember, and that set in motion a whole other range of emotions. Mostly embarrassment and humiliation, and a small flush of arousal.

  My face had to be red, but that didn't stop him.

  “We went to my place, because you didn't want to go back to yours. Then like Cinderella, you disappeared, just when we were about to...”

  “Okay. Okay. So your memory isn't that bad,” I said, holding up my hands. I’d give anything for a hole to fall into right now. The wind rustled through the leaves, carrying the smell of pine trees. I flipped my hair over my shoulder and looked around. More people would be showing up soon and this was embarrassing enough without an audience.

  “And just like the prince, I tried to find you. But since it wasn't a shoe you left behind, going door to door would have been awkward.”

  He flashed another smile and I wanted to crawl into myself.

  No… leaving a shoe behind would have been a whole lot classier than the lacy black bra I'd abandoned when I sprinted from his townhouse.

  He dipped his head forward. “Any chance you're going to tell me why you left?”

  “Any chance you’re going to tell me why you pretended not to remember me?” I cocked my head.

  Two junior counsellors emerged from behind the stage. They smiled and laughed as they waved to Troy. He had that effect on the female populous no matter what age they were. I waited until they were out of range then lowered my voice. "I don't think we should talk about this here."

  "Fine. Tonight then, as planned. Meet me at the office." He waited for me to agree, even though none of what he'd said sounded much like a request.

  "Fine." I folded my arms. "Tonight."

  Chapter Eleven

  When I arrived at Troy’s office, there were papers for me to sign, but no dinner in sight. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Just as well, things were still a little tense between us. I penned my name with a flourish to the last of the pages, cause if you’re going to sign your life away, it might as well be with style. Then handed him the pen with an even look.

  “So, you wanted to talk?”

  “I do, but not here. Will you come with me?”

  Yeah. Did anyone ever say no to that request? Doubt it.

  We trudged along an uphill path deeper into the woods than I’d ever ventured before.

  “Where are you taking me?” I finally asked when my legs started to burn.

  “Almost there.”

  Almost where? I was about to complain when the densely treed path gave way to reveal the most amazing log cabin I’d ever seen. You could hardly call it a cabin, it was more like a log and glass mansion, reflecting the trees and the setting sun, nestled right against the forest.

  “This is your place?” It had to be, he was a millionaire after all. Something I forgot often since he was so down to earth. Even the fact that he was my boss was easy to forget when we were together. He spent more time making everyone feel comfortable than he did flaunting his own importance.

  “It’s incredible.” I arched a brow at him. “But, why are we here?”

  “I heard a rumor there’s something you were craving.”

  My stomach tightened. Oh no. Please do not let the source of this rumor be Kenzie, because God only knows what she’d tell him I was craving.

  He took my hand, with a small chuckle at the expression on my face, which must have read as horrified, and led me around the house to the back. It overlooked the lake, opposite from the view at camp.

  “Do you bring all the girls here to check out the view?”

  “Actually, you’re the only girl I’ve brought here. Conflict of interest. I make it a policy not to get entangled with—”

 
“The help?” I said sarcastically.

  “My coworkers.”

  We both glanced down at his hand still holding mine. He let go.

  “Good policy.” I looked up at him, my eyes fixed on his. “Then, why am I here?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Because it’s too late for us to have that rule Nora. We’re already entangled.”

  We stayed there lost in the moment, gazes entwined, while the breathtaking view lay just beside us.

  “Conflict of interest. Is that what I am?”

  I was aiming for nonchalance, but it came out as the total opposite. Being with him was a huge deal in my world, because I usually played it safe, and Troy was anything but. He was sexy, and interested and sincere… and looked at me with an intensity that made me light headed.

  “Yes, that's exactly what you are. Only you're the one conflict that makes me want to say screw the policy.”

  My entire body suddenly felt like day old Jell-O. Damn, he really was good looking. Movie-star heartthrob good looking. Kenzie had that part right. “So, what is it I’m craving?” I whispered. I got more breathless by the second.

  I could hear his sharp inhale.

  Without breaking eye contact, he pointed to the side.

  Reluctantly I looked away, following his direction.

  Flames leapt from a circular brick fire pit, surrounded by cushioned sofa and lounge chair wide enough for two. A chunky knit oatmeal blanket draped over the back of the chair, and on the seat, a bag of marshmallows, a box of graham crackers and a package of chocolate.

  My gaze sprang back to his. “S’mores?”

  He grinned. “S’mores.”

  I bit back my smile. “Isn’t that contraband? You could get expelled for having such illicit items in your cabin.” I mocked Miss Strange’s mini lecture.

  “You mean like Kenzie’s vodka and gummy bears?”

  I laughed out loud. “You know about those? Of course you do. You know everything here. I forgot.”

  “Not everything Nora. Some things have to be explained.”

  The subtle implication of his words swept over me. He meant me taking off on him the night we were together.

  “It’s silly really,” I said, wandering over to the lounge chair.

  He gestured for me to sit, and I did.

  “It was the picture.”

  “Okay.” He nodded, then combed a hand through is hair and shook his head. “Which picture?”

  “The one of you with that girl. You looked so happy together. And at first I was jealous, but then I realized I could never have that with you. And since we had no chance at a future, I figured...” I looked away. “I didn’t want my first time to be with someone I could never be with.”

  He was quiet as he sat next to me. “You got all of that from a picture,” he said. “Tell me why you could never be with me Nora.”

  Unintentionally, I leaned against his arm. I’d never felt this safe before. Except for the last time I’d met him. He had this power over me, this way of making me feel like everything was going to work out. That we could be happy. And it was an illusion. It had to be. Because what felt that good wasn’t real, and what hurt like hell, was. Again the impulse to run tugged at me. But I forced myself to stay put.

  “There’s something you keep locked up. I see it in your eyes now, I saw it then. You can tell me. I promise you, I’ll understand. And I can probably even help.”

  “No, not with this.” A tear stung the corners of my eyes. It shocked me. I didn’t cry. Not ever. Certainly not over a guy, real or otherwise. “Never mind Troy. It was a long time ago. Just know I’m sorry if I, you know, bruised your ego or anything. It wasn’t you, it was me.” Ugg. I was making myself gag on my own platitudes and clichés.

  He took my chin in his hand and tilted my face toward his.

  I sucked in a full breath and held it.

  “Nora, it doesn’t matter how much time has passed. We will always be connected by that night. It meant something to me. This... you being here... means something.” Then he leaned in closer and his gaze lowered to my mouth. Long thick lashes partially hid his eyes. “Tell me what it is you really want.”

  The words caressed my lips, and my eyes drifted closed as I waited, aching for him to kiss me.

  “What do you want Nora?” his voice lowered.

  “I want...” I was barely able to speak over the electric tingles racing all over my body. It had been a long time since we’d been this close, but the memory of it came back full force. His hands on my bare skin, the feel of his touch. His hips pinned against mine. Our fingers entwined. His lips on my throat, on my breasts, trailing lower. The sensation swelled deep in my core, begging to be reenacted.

  “Tell me...” he whispered.

  “I want...” the words were just a murmur, as they hovered on the tip of my tongue. I want you. All of you this time. And I don’t want to stop and I don’t want to run away. But something stopped me, something deep within made me open my eyes and release the breath I’d been holding.

  “Yes.” He inched closer.

  “I want, s’mores,” I said. The second the words were out of my mouth I wanted to die. Ten long agonizing deaths. What was wrong with me?

  “S’mores.” He repeated it and I could hear the hint of amusement in his voice, though it had yet to register on his face, which was still dangerously close to mine.

  He pulled back and again I wanted to smack myself.

  “Then s’mores it is.” He rose to collect the skewers while I hyperventilated on the lounge chair.

  ***

  I couldn’t have asked for a better night.

  I popped a sticky, partially charred marshmallow into my mouth, and let it dissolve. “So how did you meet Miss Strange?” I asked, licking my fingertips.

  He leaned back, relaxing against the snowy cushions. “Grace? She found me sleeping in a dumpster after I ran away from my group home, again. I was eight.”

  “Oh wow. That’s... awful.” My brows pinched tightly.

  He didn’t seem troubled by it. “She took me in, and had me placed with a kind wealthy family. The people who became my parents. When the bad dreams started, Grace was there to help.”

  Whoa. He had recurring dreams too? Every part of me wanted to ask what they were about.

  “Mom was a religious nut, worried I was possessed and needed an exorcism. Dad, was the scientist. He collaborated with Grace, and fully supported her theories and research. But it was my grandfather who shared his love of the philosophy, that I inherited my passion for art and of course puppetry.”

  “Ah, so that’s where the puppetry course addition came from.”

  “There’s something surreally appealing about controlling your own creation through tugging a few magical strings. Sort of like life. Minor tweaks and adjustments are all that’s needed to make whatever you want happen.” He looked up at me. “Guess I inherited my philosophical side from him too.” He grinned.

  I wasn’t sure if it was possible to pinpoint the exact moment you fall in love with someone, but this felt like that moment. Listening to this science-minded philanthropic artist with a bad-ass tattoo, talk so fondly of things like magic and art and family... I was nearly swept off my feet. As we sat there in the waning light, watching the flames dance in the twilight, I realized something in that exact moment. Even though I knew that all we could ever have between us was a summer fling, I was falling for him.

  I was falling for Troy Bellisaro. A guy I hardly even knew.

  Oh man…

  I was so screwed.

  I cleared my throat. “What were your dreams about?” I knew it was a personal question, but I had to ask.

  His eyes narrowed as he surveyed me. “What are yours about?”

  My lips pressed into a tight line. It was a fair request, quid-pro-quo, and yet, I wasn’t ready to shatter the magic building between us with talk of another guy. Troy read my silence and gave a thin smile. “Maybe one day we’ll be ready to
share every part of ourselves with each another. Even the dark parts. But, it doesn't have to be this day. We have time.”

  I breathed an internal sigh of relief, and at the same time looked forward to the day I could fully expose all of myself to him.

  When we finished eating half the package of marshmallows, he sat next to me by the fire. I tucked my feet up under me and leaned against his arm.

  He delivered on his promise of giving me exactly what I wanted. The s’mores were perfect. He was perfect. I was the one who was a mess. Literally and figuratively.

  “You have marshmallow stuck to your cheek,” he said, and reached over to pull it off. Again his touch set off a series of explosions.

  “Thanks.”

  The silence fell like a curtain between us again, and we watched the flames dance without speaking for a time.

  “Maybe we should get back. Don’t want to start rumors on day one.”

  “Nobody wants that,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

  He offered his hand to help me up and then walked me back to my cabin. As much of a gentleman as any dream guy could ever be.

  “Good night Nora. See you in the morning, and sweet dreams.”

  “Yeah, you too.”

  As I watched him jog back the down the path, I wondered if there was a chance Troy might star in my dreams tonight, instead of Darcy. Warm amber lights flickered on along the porch, and the twilight sky was filled with the sounds of night, crickets and fireflies performing at their best. I climbed the steps and entered my new home. If this was what the summer had in store, I could get used to roughing it. I was so blissed out as I shut the door to my perfect night, that I completely forgot Troy hadn’t explained his amnesia act to me.

  Chapter Twelve

  The first week flew by in a series of trainings and getting the students settled, while fumbling my way around the puppetry department. Troy and I had spent a lot of time together, mostly going over job related stuff, and while there was nothing even remotely close to our s’mores night, I enjoyed spending time with him during the day.