Chapter Fourteen
The ringing of the morning bell is met with groans from all sides.
Isa is cuddled into me, big-spoon style, his hot breath on my neck.
Across from us, Damian, who is in Harmony’s bed, covers his head with his pillow.
Harmony pushes herself up on her elbow, her face ashen.
“Oh my god,” she croaks. “Am I dying? Is this what death feels like?”
“What was in that punch?” Sue-Ellen moans from across the Bunkhouse.
“What was in that punch?” Garrett is sitting on the edge of the top bunk over Harmony, his legs dangling down, his head in his hands.
“Whatever it was, the vibes were fuckin’ tight,” Damian says from underneath his pillow.
We all make noises of agreement. It had been an exceptionally fun night, if not a little chaotic. But at least this hangover isn’t for nothing.
“C’mon, girl, let’s go get some brekkie.” Harmony has somehow managed to get up and dressed. She eyes Isa warily as she reaches out her hand to me.
“Looks like Isa’s only got eyes for you, now,” she says, as we amble to the Mess Hall.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I thought you’d be happier about it.”
“I’m happy,” I say. “I just don’t want to cause any drama with Sue-Ellen.”
“And Kei?”
My breath catches. “What about him?”
“You two looked pretty cozy on the dance floor.”
I have a flash of a memory: Kei, holding me around my waist, our foreheads pressed together, as we sway to “All My Life,” by K-Ci and JoJo.
I wish I could tell Harmony, get her take on this Kei-shaped wrench that’s been thrown into my plans. But all I say is, “Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“What’s he doing?” Harmony points at Garrett, who is outside the Arts & Rec cabin, rifling through the garbage can.
He pulls out one of the red plastic cups from last night and inspects it.
“He’s a strange bird, that one,” she says, eyeing him.
I look at Garrett. His brow is wrinkled and he’s muttering to himself.
“Yeah,” I say, in weak agreement.
We’re the first to arrive at the Mess Hall for breakfast. “What are you feeling? Maybe a smoothie?” Harmony asks.
My stomach roils at the thought of a bunch of fruit and yogurt fermenting in my guts. “Toast for me.”
“You poor thing,” she says, squeezing my arm. “Go sit down, I’ll make your toast.”
I sink down on the nearest bench and put my head directly on the table. Harmony arrives a few minutes later with a stack of buttered toast, and I could weep with gratitude as I shovel it into my mouth.
The other campers trickle in, and we commiserate about these gargantuan hangovers, and I start to perk up a bit. I decide to go for a swim. On my way back to the Bunkhouse, I notice Gabby, Tyler, and Garrett chatting by the Arts & Rec cabin.
As I get closer, though, I realize it’s not a casual chat they’re having. Garett and Tyler are leaning toward one another, both of their faces tight with tension. Gabby is standing between them with her hand on Tyler’s chest, like she’s either trying to calm him down or hold him back. Or both.
I debate interrupting them to check on Garrett, but then I spot Kei.
He’s standing by the back door of the Mess Hall, and I can feel him following me with his eyes.
I wave, and he tilts his head, almost imperceptibly, like he’s beckoning me.
Am I seeing things? I hold his gaze and slow my stride.
There—he just did it again, I’m sure of it.
I give him a nod, and he slips in through the back door.
I survey my surroundings. Tyler and Gabby are still talking to Garrett. Harmony, Valeria, and Trina are lounging in the hammocks. Isa is kicking a soccer ball with Sue-Ellen, and Giovanni and Damian are doing push-ups at the gym. The coast is clear.
I spin on my heel and redirect to the Mess Hall. I go in through the front, heading toward the storeroom at the back. I slip in, bumping directly into Kei’s broad chest.
I look up. We’re so close. His lips are right there. I could just lift up onto my tiptoes and…
No, I can’t start thinking like this. What is wrong with me? One hot kiss and my mind is a mess. Get it together. I take a step back.
“Hi,” he says quietly, his mouth stretching into a wide smile.
“Hi.” I’m suddenly nervous. “What’s going on?”
“Look around,” he says. I peer behind him.
Wire shelves, mostly empty, except for a few boxes of pasta, three cans of whole tomatoes, a can of baked beans, and two tins of tuna.
A couple of large sacks of rice on the floor.
A blue plastic milk crate empty except for a few papery onion skins. “What do you notice?”
“That they need to go grocery shopping?”
He laughs. I like making him laugh. “Maybe the better question is, what don’t you see?”
I glance around. It looks like a pretty normal storeroom. It’s dirty and dingy, like the rest of the camp, and there’s a weird smell, like something rotting. But other than that, there’s nothing amiss.
And then it’s like I feel it before I see it. That sensation of constantly being watched is strangely absent.
“No cameras.” I look at Kei, shocked, and he nods, grinning.
“Now, look at your mic. The transmitter part on your back.” I tug the ever-present black belt so that the transmitter box is at the front. “No blue light,” he says. “It’s not on.” He pulls his transmitter around and shows it to me. Same thing.
“Are they broken? What’s happening?”
“They’re working, they just don’t work in here. It’s some kind of dead zone.” He nods to the door. “Go on, test it. It’ll work out there.”
I try to appear casual as I walk into the kitchen, aware that the cameras are once again on me. I surreptitiously check my transmitter, and sure enough, the blue light is glowing strong.
“What the hell?” I ask him, back in the storeroom. “How do you know about this?
“The other day, when I was making pancakes, I was back here looking for baking soda, and my transmitter got snagged on the rack. When I went to untangle it, I noticed the blue light was out.”
“So no one can see us or hear us right now?”
“Exactly,” he says, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “We can come back here and, you know—” Take each other’s clothes off “—plot our strategy. That is, if you want to.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Have you thought about what I said?”
“Yes.”
“And?” He’s looking at me with such hope and anticipation, like a puppy waiting for a treat.
“I think you’re right about Isa.”
Kei nods. “I am.”
“So, I guess…” I trail off. This is the moment of no return. He’s waiting, biting his lip. Am I doing this? Isa is the logical choice—it’s the Girl Next Door and the Fuckboy that always win together—but, in a way I can’t explain, Kei feels like the right choice.
“I’m in,” I whisper.
He heaves a sigh of relief. “That’s great news.”
“But—” I say, holding up my index finger. “I have a condition, and it’s very important.”
“Name it.”
“This is strictly business. We can flirt, make out, do whatever we need to do in front of the cameras to build a convincing case. But it’s all fake. I don’t want anyone catching feelings and messing it all up, got it?”
Kei nods, his face impassive. “I’m fresh out of a pretty catastrophic breakup. No catching feelings, for sure.”
I feel a flash of something sharp, like jealousy, but that can’t be it. It’s actually perfect if he’s still in love with his ex. It will keep our arrangement nice and clean.
“Promise?”
“Promise.” We shake on it, his big hand enveloping mine. “Let’s get out of here before someone notices we’re missing.” He takes a step toward me, shortening the distance between our bodies. Our eyes meet. He holds my gaze for a long moment.
“Right.” I swallow. “I’ll go out the front. Give me a head start.”
As I walk back to the Bunkhouse, I feel exposed. Like if anyone looks at me they’ll know that I’m scheming with Kei and that I almost just kissed him in the storeroom.
Wait, is that right? Did I almost just kiss him?
He was so close to me. I could feel the heat coming off his body, and smell that scent, that signature mix of sweat and coconuts that I’ve come to know as purely him.
He was so close that I could see the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw, so close that I could breathe him in, take in every detail, take in all of him…
Nope, this is not okay. I have to keep a clear head.
Whatever this is that I’m feeling—I have to put a lid on it.
That’s the only way our plan can work. Falling for him would only make me weak and stupid.
It would dull my intuition and lead to bad choices.
And if I want to win, if I want to save my mom’s house and pay off Dylan’s debts, then I need to stay razor sharp, my eye on the prize at all times.
And plus, he was pretty clear that he’s not over his ex, so there’s no way he would fall for me, anyway. Which is good.
Because falling in love would be a disaster.