14. Jamie
fourteen
Jamie
Fuck. Why did I do that?
I was only hurting myself. And I’d been doing it the whole night.
She’d admitted that our memories still felt fresh, and if it was anything like I felt, they were right there, ready to steal my attention at any moment.
Reminders of happy times mixed with past mistakes.
I couldn’t believe I almost asked her the question I’d been avoiding the entire time I’d been in her presence: does that mean you still feel the pain I caused when I broke your heart?
She didn’t have feelings for me anymore, but I still wanted to ask her if it hurt her when she looked at me, because as much as it sucked to admit, it fucking hurt when I looked at her.
The idea couldn’t be tamped down. It spread through me like a drop of watercolor on paper, expanding wider and wider until it reached every edge and corner.
Apparently, I’d become a masochist, probably because it was what I deserved.
Autumn’s shallow breaths were killing me and filling me with more pernicious thoughts like, What would happen if I ran my thumb across her bottom lip?
and What if I learned the locations of all of her tattoos?
She’d run away, that was for sure. And remembering that made things so much worse.
I’d been sporting a heart hard-on since seeing her throw those axes.
Autumn’s hair almost looked brown when it was wet like this in the dark of night.
She was so beautiful with her tresses in damp plaits grazing her shoulders, small drips slowly cascading down the sides of her face.
I nearly forgot that she was naked under the dark water, but I was fairly sure she was well aware.
She took on this timid-like quality as she stared at me after touching her below the pylons. My fingers seared from the contact.
“We should—” we said in unison, breaking the moment before things got too serious. We chuckled, yet again in unison, and I realized what I needed to do. I needed to get out of here, and I had to be the one to make the first move.
“Yeah, just give me a minute,” I responded without thinking.
What she might have thought I required a minute for, I wasn’t sure. But I needed to redistribute the blood from my lower half, which, despite the coolness of the water, had been a problem since we’d moved under this dock.
She dipped her shoulders underneath the water and popped back up, absentmindedly drifting closer, but I touched her shoulder to hold her back.
“No, I, like, can’t physically swim right now. Matter of fact, get away from me.” It sounded like a joke.
Recognition spanned her face before Autumn burst into laughter, and more drops fell, this time creating ripples in the water between us. She didn’t stop laughing, speaking through failed breaths. “At least the effect you had on me doesn’t mean I’ll sink to the bottom of the lake.”
Hilarious.
Wait, did she just admit I was affecting her too?
“You always did have a shitty sense of humor.” Lies.
Her laughter didn’t abate. “Okay, horndog. I’m going now, so look away. Think like a noodle.”
I placed my head in my hands, sinking into the water without thinking. Think like a noodle? Who the fuck was this girl?
She didn’t stop laughing, and it echoed off the water. She was going to wake up the entire camp and expose me, which would add another layer of mortification. Then she went silent.
“Close your eyes.” Her tone brooked no argument.
I didn’t even think. I just did as she asked. Then I heard her climb out of the water. Oh, yeah. She wanted me to close my eyes so I didn’t see her naked. Thank fuck, because if I had looked, I would never be getting out of here.
We walked on the well-worn path just far enough away from each other that our arms didn’t touch, both of us in clothes that grew damper the more they soaked up the water from our wet bodies.
The camp wasn’t exactly quiet. It sounded like other people were enjoying themselves around pod campfires, which crackled from the heat on mostly dry logs.
The night air was blissfully rejuvenating as we strolled. Peaceful sounds emanated from crickets and frogs along the way as Lake Starlight danced in its bowl. I took a deep breath in. This was what magic felt like.
But Autumn was so quiet it was starting to get to me.
“I didn’t mean to jump in like that earlier,” I tried just above a whisper.
“I know,” she deadpanned. “You heard a deer.”
Her face was completely neutral, reminding me of my funny ex of the past. I was probably reading into it, but I didn’t know that it affected me back then like it did now.
“I don’t like it when animals see me in my underwear, Autumn. You know that.”
There was no point in whispering when she laughed as loud as she did.
“I forgot how funny you are.” Her rueful smile had me wondering what was going on behind those glassy eyes.
I didn’t have a response to that. A long-lost feeling tightened my chest, as though I’d been missing something for more than was reasonably acceptable. I used to be a lot more lighthearted. Maybe it just came with being older. Maybe it was for another reason.
I made my strides slower, and she met me without saying anything. It felt as if I was living under a ticking clock. Who knew how many more minutes until we’d be to her cabin, one pod over from mine?
“How did this place come to be, anyway?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“It’s kind of a long story.”
“And we have kind of a long walk.”
Autumn nodded as her foot broke a branch, but she took a beat before continuing, almost as if she was resigned to giving me what I wanted.
“After Stanford, I worked some odd jobs. I waited tables for a bit, did the barista thing—as you now know, that’s how I met Jack.
He was a contractor and did a bunch of odd jobs around Palo Alto and Stanford and was on a site nearby.
We hit it off quickly and were friends for a couple of years before Hazel and Leo reached out.
” She twirled a piece of her hair between her fingers and continued.
“He knew Hazel from his hometown, so they were already friends. They told me about their vision, and I couldn’t sleep the next few nights thinking about it.
It was such an amazing idea, building something like this.
Constructing something that would bring joy to people’s lives.
I mean, I might not have dreamed that big back then, but I’ve been told so many times over the years about the magic of this camp that I have to believe it. ”
I imagined what it’d be like, me working through my first years as a lawyer, her creating something like this and coming away as she was now: happy.
It hurt hearing about these things I had no part in—because I would have been involved, cheering her on from the sidelines and showing up to support her as she built this wonderful thing.
I could picture everything as if I were staring through a department store window, watching them decorate for Christmas and knowing I’d never be able to afford to go inside.
“The camp was Hazel and Leo’s baby, but they couldn’t have done this without me and Jack. And they’ve recognized that a million times over.”
This was new. Autumn had always been overly humble, never taking credit for what she deserved, never admitting she was crucial to anything.
Back on the debate team, she’d acted like she was just a part of a group, but she’d been the one winning at meets over and over.
I loved that this part of her had changed.
“Is it weird to say that I’m proud of you for what you built here?” I cleared my rapidly closing throat. “The more time I spend in this place, the more I’m amazed by it. You did a remarkable thing.”
Even in the dark, I could see the slight blush on her cheeks. She didn’t respond right away, as though she was trying to fight downplaying it, but she chose not to.
“Thank you. It wasn’t easy.”
“And you like being here? Like, that’s your plan?”
She looked at me, a wistfulness to her stare. She was feeling me out. I had to fix whatever negative thoughts permeated her consciousness.
“Not that you need a plan, but if it is, it seems like a good one.” Still nothing. “This camp is obviously successful.”
“Tell that to my parents.” The words were a whisper on her lips that she corrected quickly, almost as if she hoped I hadn’t heard.
The Autumn I knew had been desperate for her dad and stepmom’s approval, so I could only imagine how things had gone over after she’d dropped out.
But she’d made this decision anyway. Yet another way in which she’d changed.
“It is successful. In our first year, we sold out. Now we have a waiting list a mile long.”
“Ren told me. He was surprised he got us in.” He’d used it as a reason I couldn’t back out “But Nancy and Robert must be impressed with how this place is doing, right?”
“They haven’t visited, actually.” She turned her head away, as if the dark trees were more interesting than the conversation we were having.
“I’m sorry, Autumn. That must hurt,” I said dumbly. That was shocking. They’d been wrapped up in everything she did, whether it was seeing her debate or going to her swim meets. Was this a message they were trying to send?
“I don’t think it’s so much about being disappointed as being too busy to prioritize it. But regardless, I’ve drilled the point home that I’m happy.”
“Well, they’re missing out,” I said, wanting to hug her but knowing that she’d never loved drawing more attention to herself after opening up. “What matters is you are proud of what you’ve accomplished. They have to see that. Anyone would.”
We’d been walking slower since we started talking, almost as if we couldn’t do two things at once, and I was worried she’d start walking faster, so I brought up the first thing that came into my head.
“Can I ask…”
She slowed her steps. “Ask what?”