Never Will I Ever

Twelve

Kaleb

Week Three

I can’t keep doing this.

It’s been five days since the overnighter up on the mountain, and after the extremely uncomfortable conversation we shared in the tent, things between us may be even worse.

We’ve just kicked off week three now, and the constant tension presses down on me like a boulder whenever we’re forced to interact, even if it’s in silence. It’s suffocating, and if this is how the rest of the summer is gonna be, there’s no way I’ll last without losing my goddamn mind.

Though, from the stupid amount of attraction flooding my brain, I fear I already may have.

Even as I stare at him, his biceps flexing beneath his green counselor shirt while he pushes Elijah and Liam’s canoe out from the dock, I feel it. This humming desire beneath my skin, and it makes me want to burn down this entire camp—which was once my place of refuge—if only to escape it.

It’s fucking infuriating.

If I could wish for anything, it would be to rid myself of the attraction for him that’s decided to rise to the surface. I’d much rather attach it to an anchor and drop it in the middle of the lake. Watch it sink to the muck at the bottom, never to see the light of day again.

But I can’t.

I don’t think I’ve ever been more frustrated by another person. By the enigma he’s becoming simply by spending more time in his presence. It’s almost like he’s donning a mask; one that remains impenetrable ninety percent of the time, and it’s those moments like right now, where it slips, that confound me.

Then there’s his stubbornness. His stupid pride and ego.

God, that’s really what sends me over the edge.

Shoving the thoughts away, I focus on loading the twins into their canoe before sending them out onto the lake. Of course, the task is mindless at best, seeing as they’ve done this plenty of times over the years they’ve attended camp, and it allows my brain to circle right back to Avery.

To the two of us lying in that tent on the mountain. To the moment he shut me down when I tried to apologize and explain myself for what happened with Colin. To how he’s shifted from a raging asshole to nothing more than a kicked puppy over the past few days.

All I feel is guilty because of it.

I chance a glance in his direction to find him doing a damn good job at getting his half of the kids onto the lake without incident, and the feeling only intensifies.

When it comes to the job we’re both here for, he’s doing his best, and that’s all anyone can ask of him, myself included. Going to Colin the way I did was fucked-up, and despite not wanting to admit it—even just to myself—it has more to do with me than it does Avery.

Jared and Max are the last two kids for me to get launched onto the lake, and once they’re all out there, paddling around to their hearts’ content, I finally look back at Avery.

Avery, who is frowning at his canoe like it personally offended him.

That’s when I realize…it’s the only one left.

Shit.

Now understanding Avery’s less-than-thrilled demeanor, I steel myself for what is sure to go down as the most painful afternoon of my life. After all, it’s not like we can pretend to be asleep to avoid talking to each other when we’re trapped in a canoe together.

I motion toward the water craft. “Get in and let’s get going.”

Despite looking like he’d rather drown on the spot, he silently climbs in, grabs ahold of the paddles, and waits for me to join him. He won’t even turn to look at me when I drop onto the bench behind him, even to hand me my paddle after pushing us off from the dock.

God, this is so fucking awkward.

We work together to paddle toward the center of Glass Lake, where we can keep an eye on the kids and provide any assistance, should they need it. It starts out relatively smoothly, by some miracle, but when we’re about three-quarters across the lake, the canoe starts turning to the left.

The only reason for that to happen would be if someone wasn’t paddling, and that someone certainly isn’t me.

Doing my best to keep my annoyance under wraps, I mutter, “Unless you’re looking to spin in circles, I need you to paddle too.”

“I was. I just…” He pauses before cursing softly under his breath. “Shit.”

That draws my attention from where I’d been watching the kids, and I find his gaze locked on the water. Right at the spot where the arm of his paddle passes through the water.

“What?”

“It’s—” He shakes the paddle rather violently, his biceps flexing in effort, only for it to move barely an inch. His jaw locks, remaining taut until he finally stops trying to free it from whatever managed to snag it below the water’s surface.

“The blade is caught on something.”

My mind automatically goes into problem solving mode, and I motion for him to swap places with me.

“Come back here to keep us balanced, and I’ll move up there to get it.”

He shakes his head, still focused on the water and shaking the paddle. “No, I got it handled.”

Let the record state, he very clearly does not have it handled. His hold on the situation is non-existent, actually, and despite my better judgment, I reach toward him anyway to offer my assistance again.

“Shaking it like that isn’t gonna do anything,” I calmly reply while he continues to struggle. It’s painful to watch. “Avery, let me just—”

“I got it, Kaleb!” he snaps, turning to glare at me. His nostrils flare with frustration before he snarls out, “I don’t need your fucking help.”

And there he is. The same Avery I saw all last year.

The one who blows up at the drop of a hat. Whose rage, I now realize, is fueled by insecurity and fear more than hatred. Who would rather make more of a fool of himself than dare accept my critique or assistance.

“Would you stop letting your pride get in the way and let me help?”

“No!” He shoots me a glare. “In case you weren’t aware, you’re really not as smart as you think you are. Not that you’d ever be willing to hear it.”

Fuck it.

Carefully leaning forward and crouching in the bottom of the canoe, I reach out and make a grab for the paddle, only for him to shoulder my arm out of the way.

“I got it, LaMothe,” he growls again.

“Give me the paddle,” I hiss, this time managing to get my hand on the handle.

He makes an attempt to bat me away again, and snaps, “I’m not some damsel in distress, needing you to save the day.”

“No, you’re just an arrogant dick who won’t admit when you’re wrong.”

All talking ceases then, both of us focused on our struggle to win the paddle in this childish game of tug-of-war; a feat proving to be rather difficult, considering it’s still stuck on some unknown object beneath the surface. I’m also acutely aware of just how off-balance we are, the canoe swaying and shaking below us while I do my best to wrangle the paddle from his grip.

“Avery, just give it to me before we—”

The sentence dies on my lips the second he gives the handle a firm yank, pulling it free from the water’s clutches. Unfortunately, the sudden movement causes our already off-balance canoe to finally capsize, sending us crashing into the lake.

My blood is boiling when I resurface, finding the canoe flipped over and the kids all staring. Some are attempting to cover their laughter, while others are too stunned to do anything other than gawk.

Avery’s head pops up a few feet away, and it takes every ounce of my willpower to not shove his head back under and hold him there. From the fury written on his face, there’s a damn good chance he’s reining himself in from doing something similar.

Huffing out a sharp breath, I turn my attention back to the capsized canoe.

Glass Lake isn’t all that large or cold, so while I could use this as an opportunity to teach the kids how to right a tipped canoe and clamber back in, I’m too pissed off to try. So instead, I grab the edge of the water craft and start hauling it to shore, all the while ignoring the building rage inside me.

I’ve spent years kayaking or canoeing the waters around camp, and not once have I fallen in. Then Avery shows up this summer and I end up looking like a drowned rat, fully clothed, in the middle of the fucking lake.

Un-fucking-believable.

The sound of water sloshing behind me draws my attention back to the shore to find Avery’s sopping wet form finally back on dry land. His clothing clings to his toned body in a way that makes my own take notice, and though I didn’t think it was possible, I become even more enraged.

Because why the fuck do I have to want this…this—

“Why can’t you fucking listen to me for once?” I shout, the crack in my composure turning into a chasm.

If Avery’s surprised by my outburst, it doesn’t show, because he’s immediately stomping toward me with flared nostrils and brows drawn down in fury.

“I’m not one of these kids, Kaleb. You’re not in charge of me out here; I’m your equal !”

“Really? Really? Then why are all the kids still dry and in their canoes while we’re soaking wet after tipping into the lake?” I scoff and peel my shirt over my head to wring out the excess water. “If you wanna be an equal, start acting like one.”

When I glance back at him, I find his gaze tracing over my body before his glare collides with mine. And in that moment, I swear I can see right into his brain.

Or maybe those are just my own screaming thoughts.

“Like I said up on that mountain: I would if you’d actually fucking let me.”

I wasn’t aware of just how close he’d gotten to me in the midst of our shouting match, but I realize now, as I see the flecks of indigo is his otherwise sky-blue irises, we’re far closer together than we should be. Only inches separate our chests, our faces…our lips.

The power of his proximity paired with my unfortunate desire engulfs me in heat, roaring through my veins like a wildfire, and if I don’t garner some distance, there’s no telling what I’ll do. My sanity is hanging on by a thread, ready to snap at any given moment.

Right now, it could end with one of two things: kissing him or decking him.

Neither option feels preferable to the other, and so I do the only thing I can. I focus on the rage instead. On the frustration and resentment that’s fueled every interaction we’ve had over the past few weeks before whispering in a low, deadly voice.

“I swear to God, Avery. You need to get out of my fucking face.”

The warning doesn’t work. If anything, Avery inches in closer, his nose nearly brushing mine now.

“Or what, golden boy? We both know you won’t do a goddamn thing besides run back to Colin.” His lip pulls back in a hateful snarl. “After all, tattling is what you do be—”

“That’s enough,” an authoritative voice booms from farther inland, cutting Avery’s blow off at the knees.

My attention immediately snaps toward it, finding Colin with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the two of us.

I take a measured step away from Avery, my teeth gritting with irritation and rage.

“Can either of you account for the kids right now?”

My immediate reaction is to motion out to the lake, where the kids are… fuck . They could all be drowning at this point, and neither of us would have any clue. We’ve been too busy screaming at each other.

Shit.

“Sir—” I start in a feeble attempt at an explanation.

He holds a hand up before I have the chance to get more than a single word out, though, and I know better than to press further. Instead, I just watch as he grabs the walkie-talkie from his hip and lifts it to his mouth to speak.

“Christian. I need you to come watch the kids on the lake while I take care of something,” he says stiffly.

Then, to just me and Avery, he utters five words that have my blood freezing to ice in my veins.

“My office. Both of you.”

Colin’s lecture is…rough.

I wasn’t expecting it to go well, considering the scene we caused, and in front of the campers, no less. But I also wasn’t prepared for the disappointment in Colin’s eyes while he reprimanded the two of us.

“You two need to get over whatever is going on between you. I don’t care about what happened back at Foltyn, and I don’t give a damn about what happens after you leave here. But the time you spend here at this camp? That I care about.” His attention flicks between us, pinning each of us with a hard stare. “Call a ceasefire. You can go back to hating each other once you’re no longer on these premises.” With that decided, he motions toward the door. “Now, go get yourselves cleaned up and back to your group.”

Neither of us speaks to the other when we exit the office, and that doesn’t change as we go through the rest of our day and into the evening. We painfully exist in the same sphere, trying our best not to rock the boat any further. Proverbially and literally, it seems.

To no surprise, the blowout by the lake resulted in the twins crawling even further up my ass when it comes to Avery. Asking questions about why we were fighting, of course, but also digging for more information. Colton especially, almost as if he can tell whatever tension that exists between Avery and me has become more potent. More volatile.

But then, after dinner, something changes.

There are brief periods of time when I can feel Avery’s eyes on me. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but then there’s a time or two when I catch his gaze before he quickly averts it, telling me it’s not all in my head after all.

But still, neither of us says a damn thing to the other.

It’s not until we’re around the bonfire with the kids, letting them bullshit and yammer on without any real input from us, that we exchange a single word.

Avery walks up to me as I hand out roasting sticks to the kids, eyes cast downward at the clipboard in his hands. His jaw is taut, signaling there’s still plenty of frustration lingering in him from earlier, but when his gaze lifts to mine, I’m surprised to find…something else in them.

Stress, maybe?

“Tomorrow’s schedule,” is all he says before holding the clipboard out for me.

My gaze stays locked with his as I take it from him and watch as he walks back to where he was sitting with Elijah.

I was the one who wrote up our list of activities, per usual, so I’m not sure why he’s giving it to me. It’s only when I finally pull my attention away from his face to glance at the clipboard that I see it.

On top of tomorrow’s itinerary is a torn piece of paper, slipped beneath the clip.

A note.

I’m willing to bury the hatchet if you are.

My gaze rakes over the words written in his messy scrawl, the slightest knot forming in my throat at the olive branch he’s extending. One, I’m well aware, I need to grab on to for dear life.

Colin made his stance clear: Despite everything that’s happened—both before camp and during—we still have to find a way to work together.

If not…there’s no telling what will transpire over the next month and a half. Or if either of us will even last that long.

Before I can think better of it, I grab the pen tucked behind the clip, scribble out a note on the back of his own, and walk over to where he’s seated.

“Colin let me know about a change, actually,” I say as I press the clipboard into his hands. “You should probably look it over.”

He frowns up at me, questions and worry swirling in his blue eyes, before his gaze drops to where I scribbled out my response.

Midnight. The dock.

If you’re late, I’ll bury you instead.