Chapter 9 #2
“Eugene’s fine.” She lets out a breath, averts her eyes. “I just want them to like each other.”
“Of course you do.”
My instinct is to ask more, dig a little deeper, but she gives her head a quick shake and says, “Anyway.”
Right. Time to change the subject, Dex.
“About the boyfriend thing.” I clear my throat. “I was only kidding around, Kroft. Not that you couldn’t or shouldn’t have a boyfriend. To be honest, I’m kinda surprised you don’t.”
She snaps her gaze back to mine. “Me?”
I offer her a crooked smile. “Your clipboard obsession is a bit over the top, but you’re not horrible to look at.”
Her cheeks pink up, and she bites back a scoff. “Yeah, well. I’m not Tori, either.”
Uhhh. Okay. “Who?”
“The brunette,” Sayla says, but my mind’s an empty gas tank. “Victoria? The one in the Lulu leggings. With the big … teeth.” When my stare is still blank, she adds, “The woman who offered to trade cabins with me.”
“Ah. Tori. Got it.” She and I had barely spoken when she jumped in and suggested the switch. Which was nice of her, I guess, trying to help Sayla out. But also kind of a lot for someone I’d just met. “I didn’t pay much attention to her.”
“Really?” Sayla fights a smirk. “You two sure seemed awfully friendly, even before she offered to sleep with you.”
“That’s just it.” A sprinkle of defensiveness rises in me. “I was being friendly. And there’s not much else I can do if she or you or anyone else thinks there’s more to it than that.”
“So you’re saying you aren’t interested in her?”
“I’m saying I’m not interested in anyone.”
Sayla narrows her eyes.
The truth is, I’ve always kept my romantic relationships casual.
When I was younger, I did some dating, sure.
I had a couple girlfriends in college. But I always gravitated toward women who had big goals.
Like law school across the country. Or moving to Nashville to make music.
They weren’t looking for commitment or to settle down anytime soon.
Zero hearts got broken.
These days, I get plenty of love from family and friends. Plus, the work I do at Stony Peak is more rewarding than I knew a job could be. That’s all the connection I need. All I’ll ever risk needing. And no, I’m not going to get into the deeper reasons behind my relationship avoidance with Sayla.
But I can offer her a surface reason.
“I don’t have time,” I explain. “The athletics program keeps me way too busy to focus on anything else, and I wouldn’t want to give less than my best to work or to someone I was dating.
I’m just trying to support our teams, be at as many games as possible.
Every day, there are practices, tournaments, and play-offs. It’s never-ending.”
“I’m the same way,” Sayla rushes to tell me. “Except I’m busy with play rehearsals, music concerts, choir showcases, band performances.”
“We’re not in a competition here, Kroft.” I force a small chuckle. “You care about your department. I care about mine. I was just trying to explain why I might not have noticed Tori.”
“It’s just the way everyone talks about you at school, I just assumed you … you date a lot.” She takes a beat. “But I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”
“I’m already over it.” I hitch my shoulders. “And this is Camp Reboot, so let’s call this a fresh start. Clean slate?”
“Maybe after lunch.” She tips her chin. “I can’t make peace on an empty stomach.”
I study her expression for a moment. “Was that a joke?”
“If you have to ask, then I failed.”
“Sayla Kroft? A failure?”
She wrinkles her nose. Like a bunny rabbit, except more adorable. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
She checks her watch, then hops up from the bed with her pink clipboard and pen. “We’re supposed to be back outside at the office in ten minutes, so I’m going to head over now.”
“But it’s literally a two-minute walk.”
“On time is late, remember?”
“Yeah.” I stretch out my legs. “I think I’ll take my chances.”
Slipping my phone from the pocket of my joggers, I open up my texts. “I’m just going to catch up on messages.”
This is what I say, but a part of me also needs to put some distance between me and Sayla. Her reluctant smiles are already loosening something tight in my chest, and we’ve only been together a few hours. A break from each other’s probably a good idea.
“Suit yourself,” she says, exiting the cabin in a swish of ponytail. I should enjoy the quiet, but a part of me feels an impulse to follow her. To distract myself, I check the texts I’ve been ignoring all morning.
The first one’s from Tim, Kendal’s husband. She told me he was flying home sometime Sunday, so I’m sure he’s back by now.
The bro-in-law
Hey, man. Thanks for stepping up and helping my wife out while I was gone. Friday night diaper duty isn’t for the faint of heart.
Me
Yeah. Well, my sister knew what she was doing when she talked you into naming your son after me. Uncle Dex has a soft spot for that kid forever.
The bro-in-law
Middle name, but still. Least we could do. For the record, my kids already blew through those packs you bought. No pun intended.
Me
Thanks for the visual. But I only buy the diapers. Changing’s not my job. On a different note, the new jerseys came in for you guys—even little ones for Rowan and Wally.
The bro-in-law
Nice. Hopefully, the Squirrels will beat the Bobcats.
Me
Heh. That I can’t guarantee. But I can take you out for a beer after.
The bro-in-law
I’m in. Catch you soon, man. Thanks again.
Next up is a text from Jo that must’ve come in after our phone call.
Little sis
Be nice to Sayla. She’s cool.
Me
She’s not that great. But I’m always nice.
Jo’s famous for ignoring texts for at least eight hours, so I’ll almost certainly not hear back from her, so I move on to Bridger.
Bridger
Dude. Fall break staff development is the ninth circle of hell without you. I almost dozed off during Wilford’s update on the accreditation thing. Every time he mentions the SACSS, I die another death. Send help. For real.
I’ve been to six years of these faculty trainings, and the days feel like they drag forever. The poor guy’s probably desperate for a break. But he can’t take a call if he’s still in meetings, so I go ahead and text him. If he’s free, he’ll respond right away.
Me
What’s Wilford been saying about the visitation? Besides the word SACSS. Heh.
Bridger
That torturous meeting ended an hour ago. We’re in fresh hell now. But to answer your question, he was all pumped about you and Sayla coming back with some big collaborative plan for the visitation. He’s trusting you to come up with something good to ensure a four-year accreditation. NO PRESSURE.
Me
Great. Kroft barely tolerates me when there’s no pressure on us. And now …
Bridger
And now, what? You can’t leave me hanging like that.
Me
Now we’re rooming together. Sayla and me. In one cabin. So yeah. Pressure COOKER.
Bridger
No way.
Me
Way.
Bridger
How did you finagle sharing a cabin with her?
Me
There was no finagling. Just a glitch with room assignments. But we’re stuck now. So I’m making the best of it. My goal is to prove to her I’m not that bad a guy. I might even be making progress.
Bridger
Good luck with that. I get the feeling Loren’s rooting for you, too, although she’d never admit that out loud. She’s sitting next to me now. She says hi.
Me
Ah. The lovely Ms. Cane. Is she reading your texts over your shoulder or something?
Bridger
Of course not. I just told her I was texting with you so she’d know why I have my phone out during this new, extremely riveting meeting.
Me
But you’re sitting together … The plot thickens.
Bridger
Nope. The plot’s thin as always over here.
Me
Ah. So you haven’t convinced her to ditch her man yet?
Bridger
Loren and I are still just friends. And she’s still engaged.
Me
Sorry, man. What kind of name is Foster Abel anyway? If she hyphenates after the wedding, she’ll be Mrs. Cane-Abel. That’s a choice.
Bridger
Dude. Subject change. Aren’t you supposed to be doing something productive and retreat-oriented right now? Like a trust fall or a mime class?
Me
Mime class. But you’re right. I’d better go.
We’re supposed to meet up for a tour of the place in a couple minutes, then lunch, then a whole afternoon of professional development stuff.
Minus the mimes. Hopefully. I’ll bet Sayla’s already there talking to the directors, trying to show them she’s better than me.
Bridger
Thoughts and prayers, buddy.
Me
Thanks, man. I’ll update you later. With actual words. Not mime moves. Maybe.
Before heading out, I still need to make one quick call.
My mom and dad are probably the last people their age with a landline, an actual phone plugged in right under their Happiness is a Choice sign.
I get why they keep one, though. Always ready for an emergency, my parents.
And anyway, they both take hours to respond to their texts.
So I try the home phone and get the answering machine.
“Hey, there.” I clear my throat. “Just wanted to tell you I talked to Jo, so I know Dad had a scare yesterday. Would’ve loved to hear that from one of you.
But whatever. I’m just your only son. No guilt.
” I pause for a “heh” so they know I’m only teasing.
Mostly. “But maybe shoot me an update on how you’re doing when you can.
I’ll be here at this retreat thing for the next few days, but I’ll still get texts and messages even if I can’t answer a call.
Don’t make me worry about you. Which I will if I hear nothing back.
” Am I laying on the guilt a bit thick? You bet I am.
But I’m also not lying. “Anyway, Dad, stay hydrated. And maybe skip the gardening for a while. I’ll see you on Thursday night for family dinner, and I’ll come by this weekend to help out with anything you need.
Love you both. This is Dexter by the way. ”
I let out another “heh” before signing off to end things on a positive note.
Happiness is a choice, after all.
But on time is late.
So I’d better get going.