Chapter 37
Ishould feel trapped and uneasy.
I shouldn’t believe him.
Being in a car with Kayde, which is his car though he won’t give me an answer about why he Ubered that first day of this camp session, should absolutely make me feel like I’m a victim being kidnapped.
I shouldn’t believe him.
But the comfortable silence is broken only by the music filling the silence between us. So with my window cranked down and my sunglasses jammed over my face, I lean back against the headrest of the truck with a sigh.
God, I really shouldn’t believe him.
But I do.
“This song choice is abysmal,” I mumble, my eyes closed as the wind whistles in through the window and blows against my face. “Like, if this is coincidence, it’s probably fate telling me something.”
Kayde chuckles, the sound barely audible over the words of “Psycho Killer” circulating through the car before being snatched away by the wind. “It’s a coincidence,” he assures me, and reaches out to touch the screen of the console to skip the rest of the song.
Not that “Tainted Love” is much better. I snort and turn my head to face him as my brows climb toward my bangs. “Really?” I ask, voice deadpan. “Did you make this playlist just for today?”
“This is my usual playlist. Not my fault it’s out to get me today.” He pulls into the parking lot of the general store, just inside town, and I straighten in my seat. We aren’t far from camp, and I’ve made this trip before in Kinsley’s car. Once or twice a summer, we normally end up underestimating our supplies of something, like marshmallows, and end up here to grab another case of them.
It’s just luck that this year, we needed them and it worked out for us. That’s what Kayde had said, anyway, when he’d aggressively volunteered us to go into town this morning at breakfast. I’d tried to protest, only to get a sharp pinch to my thigh.
Later, in private, Kayde had explained that he and I were the best ones to ask around about any new faces or suspicious interactions, so we should take the opportunity fate provided.
“You think we did the right thing?” I ask, not for the first time. “Telling Kinsley and Liza that we think there’s a stranger stalking around?”
“I think leaving out the bag of weapons was the right thing, yes,” Kayde tells me. “Where did you put it?”
Itbeing the duffel bag that I’d run back to grab at the last minute. Kayde hadn’t been a huge fan of the idea, but I’d told him I wasn’t going to leave a bunch of weapons lying out there for a killer to use or a kid to find.
Especially for a kid to find. Boys would stab themselves playing stupid games that involve running with knives.
My girls would stage a coup, I’m deadly certain about that. The world doesn’t need Melody at its head just yet; and neither does Camp Crestview.
“Under the bed,” I admit, a bit sheepishly. When Kayde gives me a very unimpressed look, I hunch my shoulders self-consciously. “Where else would I put it? Should I hang it on the door?”
“Under the bed is the first place any idiot would look.”
“Well, then, let’s hope he’s not an idiot.” The words earn me another flat glance, but I just beam at him in response.
And I certainly don’t miss the twitch of a smile on his lips that he tries to smooth away before it can grow.
“So I’m thinking you go in and get the marshmallows.” Kayde shoves his door open and jumps to the ground, his black boots making almost no noise on the asphalt. Today is the first time I’ve seen him out of camp counselor attire and it’s, well…
Well, if I hadn’t been drooling over his looks before, I would be now. Kayde had swaggered up to my cabin in distressed jeans over dark, worn boots. His black tank top looking newer than the jeans, and a necklace with some kind of pendant hanging below his throat, obscured by the collar of his shirt. I’ve never seen him wear it before, but I’m not about to be nosy and ask him what it is, when he’s clearly got it in his shirt for a reason.
Well, not yet, anyway. But the day is still young, and my curiosity knows no bounds. His hair is loose and mostly dry now. It was wet from the shower when he showed up at my cabin, and some stupid part of me had been a little put out that I hadn’t gotten to join him.
It’s a thought I normally would’ve smacked and shredded until I could hide it in the back of my mind, under a rug labeled Inappropriate Kayde Thoughts. But now I let myself have them, and I let myself sometimes dwell on all the things that cross my brain when it comes to Kayde.
It’s troubling, really, how often I think about him railing me. Sometimes it’s memories. After all, sex with Kayde is hard to forget, and he is sure to remind me how much I love it pretty frequently. Sometimes, though, it’s ideas of what I’d love for him to do to me, and where.
Like the boathouse, again.
Like, frankly, anywhere. Against a tree in the dark plays in my fantasies quite often, but with finding the duffel bag last night, some of that dream has withered and died at the thought of being in danger in the woods outside of camp.
“Hello?” I blink, and realize I’m staring straight at Kayde’s pecs, which have materialized in front of me. Or rather, all of Kayde has appeared in front of me, and I realize that maybe I’ve been spacing out, lost in thought. Kayde reaches up to tap my forehead, a soft, amused smile on his lips. “My sweet little overthinker.” He chuckles. “What in the world am I going to do with you?”
“Fuck me?” I ask, before I can stop myself. But at the very least, my suddenly burning cheeks aren’t quite as obvious as the way his brows jerk upward and his lips part for him to take a deep, hissing breath.
Well, I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. But now that it’s between us, I grin wryly and gaze up at him from behind my sunglasses.
“That’s not very public appropriate, Summer,” Kayde chides at last, though he doesn’t make a move to step away from me. His hand comes up, and he presses two fingers under my chin to tip my face up to his. “But I love it when you speak your mind, so you won’t find me complaining. Even if half of it is you just needing the last word, huh?” Before I can reply, he leans down just enough to kiss me lightly on the lips.
It’s chaste and sweet.
And it’s nothing I want from him. But it would probably be inappropriate to toss him in the back of his truck to ride him, or to demand he eats me out again like he had the first week of camp when I’d ridden his face?—
Now really isn’t the time to be doing this to myself. I feel the blush staining my cheeks even more, and I press my hands to them, still meeting Kayde’s eyes behind my sunglasses.
“Are we trying to start something we can’t finish, sweetheart?” Kayde is better at reading me than he should be, and he finally shows me a genuine smile before kissing my forehead. “Later you can mouth off all you want to me, okay babe? I’ll make you pay for it like you clearly want.”
“What?” Shock trembles down my spine, and I rear back. “That’s not?—”
“Marshmallows, and check with the store manager about anyone he doesn’t recognize coming in lately,” Kayde tells me firmly. “I’m going to wander around a little.” His hand brushes my hip before Kayde turns and ambles in the other direction, looking like a heartbreaking bad boy from some vintage movie with a cult following.
Though in Kayde’s case, in these jeans, that cult following would be solely dedicated to his ass.
“He says he’s in love with you,” I remind myself under my breath. “There’s probably nothing morally wrong in staring at his ass.” It takes me longer than I’m proud to admit to tear my gaze away from him, and then I almost walk into the door of the general store like a dumbass before dragging myself into the air-conditioned building.
It definitely hasn’t changed much over the years. I’m always so amazed at how little gets refurbished or remodeled in ‘Dan’s General Store’ every year that I end up here. Inhaling, I taste the familiar scent of gasoline and cleaning products in my nose, though I’ve learned that just covers the scent of slightly too-ripe fruit and cigarettes.
The floor has its sticky places, but overall the cement is inoffensive on my shoes as I stride up to the counter and knock on the old, chipped laminate to draw the man’s attention from staring down at his phone through behind thick glasses.
“Yeah?” Dan grunts, still not looking up as a cigarette dangles precariously from between his lips. When he finally does look up, recognition jolts into his expression, and he stands up with a sigh. “You’re from the camp, right? What do you need this time?”
“Marshmallows again,” I admit, shooting him an apologetic smile. “I don’t know what’s wrong with our math, but we always seem to underestimate how many we need.”
He chuckles dryly, sidling out from behind the counter and heading further back into the store. The brick building is set up in aisles, though it’s hard to move through the store without going through the aisles in the way Dan intended. We pass pickles, olives, bread, candy, and the few spices he sells before we make it to the baking section, which is mostly just s’mores ingredients and canned cherry pie filling.
I’ve never understood why cherry is the one flavor he carries, but I definitely don’t mind. I grab a can as he moves half-empty cases of marshmallows out of the way, until he can finally grab and shoulder a full, unopened cardboard case from the back. “You’re lucky I remembered to order these,” he tells me, his boots thudding on the floor as he makes his way back to the front. “This is the last week of camp, right?”
“Right,” I confirm, setting my cherry pie filling on the counter. Tossing him the twenty for the case that I’d taken out of our camp funds jar, I dig in the pocket of my denim shorts for the bills and quarters I’d jammed in there when I’d learned we were coming into town.
“Nah, don’t worry about paying for that.” Dan waves me off. “I’ve got too many cans of it, anyway.”
My tongue itches to ask why the hell he keeps ordering it, and why it’s the one flavor he does carry, but instead I smile gratefully at him. “Thanks. I’m going to hoard it and eat it at night after the kids have tried to stage a rebellion.”
“With all those kids there, I have no doubt you need all the help you can get.” He takes the twenty and presses a few buttons on the old cash register before tossing the bill in and slamming it closed. I’d used to think he was just aggressive, but I’ve learned that if he doesn’t slam it, the drawer won’t stay shut. “If it were me, I’d be smoking a pack a day and hiding a bottle of Jack anywhere I could.”
“They aren’t that bad,” I protest, still smiling. “Oh, hey, before I go. Quick question?” Dan nods, but his attention is back on his phone and he puffs on his cigarette so the end glows orange.
I don’t know how to ask him tactfully. I’m not like Kayde, with a good mask and sly cunning that makes it so no one suspects me of wrongdoing.
But I am determined, and innocent of actually being a murderer. Surely those count for something, even if I’ve never tried to gather information like in the movies.
“Have you seen anyone new around? We had someone come up to the camp, but I have no idea who it was. Wasn’t sure if you’d seen anything…memorable?” That’s as well as I can put it, I think, while being somewhat subtle.
Dan thinks about it, then shakes his head before giving a slightly apologetic grunt. That seems to be how Dan mostly communicates; in grunts, sighs, and rolling of his eyes. It’s admirable, and I hope when I’m old and crotchety, I can learn the language.
Though I’d like to do so without the constant cigarette dangling from my lips.
“Must’ve been just us getting unlucky then, I guess.” I laugh, like I’m dismissing the whole thing. “Thank you again. The kids won’t riot tonight, and that’s the main thing.” Dan just nods, and I wrap my arms around the case of marshmallows before heading to the door, my can of cherries perched on top.
Thankfully for me, Kayde had left the truck unlocked. He isn’t back—I hadn’t expected him to be—but I’m able to shove the marshmallows in the back of the truck and set the cherry pie filling in the back seat, like it’s a passenger, before backing up enough to close the door again.
Immediately, however, I stop. My whole body pauses, and I narrow my eyes at my reflection in the large side mirror, holding my own gaze.
Why do I feel so strange?
I rub my arms absently where gooseflesh has broken out, and study my surroundings in the mirror with curiosity. There’s nothing wrong. Nothing has happened. And unless I’ve developed a sixth sense for…something, then I really can’t figure out why I suddenly feel so uncomfortable.
So vulnerable.
The hair on the back of my neck rises, and I fight not to turn around and look for someone staring daggers at me. I don’t need to. I shouldn’t, at least. There wasn’t anyone in the parking lot when I’d walked out here, and surely no one has popped up since I’ve been leaning in the truck.
But I give in anyway and turn quickly, as if I can catch something out of the corner of my eye if I move fast enough.
All I end up with for my trouble and near whiplash, however, is a view of an empty parking lot backed up by the woods beyond.
Something snaps in the trees, and while I know that it’s definitely just the sounds of nature, I still let my steps take me closer to the woods, eyes narrowed.
There can’t be someone there.
Every shadow seems too dark. Every slightly waving limb makes me want to jump into the air as I close the distance between me and the edge of the trees. Maybe if I just get a bit further, I can convince myself there’s nothing there. Maybe if I?—
A hand on my shoulder does make me jump, and I yelp in surprise as I whirl around, only to see Kayde behind me, concern on his face. “Hey, hey!” he raises his hands in surrender. “It’s just me, okay?” But he looks past me, into the trees, as the breeze picks up to rustle the leaves. “Something out there?”
“I…” I turn with him, and find myself automatically leaning into his chest as I still clutch my arms. “No, I guess not.” One of his arms snakes up around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. “Did you find out anything?”
Kayde doesn’t reply for a few long moments. He just watches the trees while the breeze catches his curls and pulls them forward around his face. “No,” he murmurs finally, letting out a sigh. “Nothing at all.”