Chapter 2 #2
At this point, it was a wonder I wasn’t some kind of adrenaline junkie looking for the next insane thing to fire up those starved neurons in my brain that would most definitely kill me one day. But then again, the praise was the core crux of it all.
Without that, what was the point in accomplishing anything?
“You’re avoiding the question, by the way,” Blake prodded.
“Oh. Right. How could I forget my promise?” I held a fist up to my mouth and cleared my throat. “Let’s see... the poison plant family. There’s ivy and oak. Can’t forget about their sister, hemlock.”
“Wow, so he did pay attention.”
“I wasn’t kidding about the notes.” I was, but he didn’t need to know that little white lie. “Belladonna, cow parsnip. Queen Anne’s lace if you’re stupid enough to eat it.”
Blake let out another laugh, causing my stomach to clench again.
It had to be the freckles, or the way his nose scrunched up slightly, that was doing it for me.
I had a healthy, and albeit robust, sex life back home, so I couldn’t exactly excuse myself with the whole ‘I need to get laid’ lie that I was dying to lean into with how attracted to Blake I was growing.
There wasn’t anything wrong with being attracted to a man like him, aside from the obvious of not knowing which team he swung for and causing all sorts of awkward issues because of that. He was hot, fit, and someone who was easy to keep up with during a conversation.
What more could you want?
The thing was, I wasn’t looking to get involved with someone high up in the camp’s echelon. Far from it, actually. A casual hookup here and there to spice up the day’s activities were all fine and good, because at the end of the night, I’d be returning to my cabin alone. Just how I wanted it.
Getting involved with a staff member right off the bat was probably asking for my vacation to implode in on itself. And at that point, I’d only have myself to blame.
“I’m curious.” His tone was light as he spoke. “Why’d you come to something like this alone?”
I shrugged, hooking my thumbs underneath my bag’s straps again. “No reason. Wanted to try something new. Why?”
Blake shrugged right back. “Like I said, I was curious. We don’t get many singletons unless they’re a parent of one of our kids.”
“Aw, you got little tikes running around? I didn’t see any yesterday. They stay overnight, too?”
He huffed softly. “I should probably stop calling a bunch of teenagers ‘kids’. They hate it. But I can’t help it when I’ve had a lot of them since they were preteens.”
“School program?” I wagered.
He shook his head. “At risk youth. Specifically LGBTQ identifying.”
“Oh.” That was... surprising. And not at all what I was expecting to come out of his mouth.
He eyed me from his peripheral. “Mhmm.”
Oh, I knew that tone. It was the ‘watch what the next thing out of your mouth is’ without outright asking me if I was going to be a bigoted asshole or not. Ironic in the best way, considering I felt like my preferences were made pretty clear upon opening my yawning trap of a mouth.
Though on the other hand, one could never be too sure these days. The freedom of expression knew no bounds, after all.
Who was I, or anyone else for that matter, to judge based on perceived inclinations?
Growing up in Switzerland during my formidable years was an experience I’ll never forget. Being surrounded by my two best friends, day in and day out, who accepted me for whatever I wanted to be, had shaped me in a way no other outside force else ever could.
I was indebted to those times, much simpler now that I was in the thick of adulthood and could reminisce on how small my problems were back then.
“I see it now.” I shot him a grin, elaborating when I received a brow raise in return. “You’re a softie at heart.”
His lips parted in surprise, lashes fluttering over those deep brown pools that were calling my name, begging me to stare into until I was lost within the dark depths. Suddenly, he drew a hand up to his face, partially covering it from view.
Too bad because I would’ve loved to revel in what shade of red he was currently turning. I bet it looked lovely against his tanned skin.
“Anyway.” He cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. “What do you do? Your job?”
“Nice segue. Very subtle.” I preened at the look he shot me, basking in the attention once again. “Would it surprise you if I said I was in finance?”
“What kind of finance?”
“I’m a financial analyst. Mostly for investments. I get to play with rich people’s money all day.”
Blake slowly dropped his hand back down to his side. “Was that part of why you said you didn’t really care you bought the wrong package with us?”
“Partly.” It really wasn’t my place to rub it in his face—no matter how unintentional—about my own wealth.
Coming from money and then staying in it was a flex I wasn’t often keen on putting on the table.
Discussing jobs and finances was one thing, yet I found it distasteful to brag about what was currently floating around in the trust fund.
Call me privileged, but it tended to do the opposite of what I wanted while in a conversation.
“Think of the overage as a donation to your youth program. How about that?”
“How generous.” His tone was dry but I could tell from the small smile trying to crawl across his face that he was happy to hear I wasn’t looking for any sort of refund.
To me, a few hundred bucks was a drop in the bucket, but for a business like the one Blake was running, that could be the difference between buying an extra palette of food or trying to make due with chicken and rice for the third night in a row.
“Do you like it? Playing around with other’s money?” he asked. “Seems kind of dangerous.”
“Oh yeah. It’s like gambling, I love it. Don’t tell anyone that, though, they’ll think I have a problem.”
A laugh burst out of him. “He says as his eye is twitching.”
Oh, I was riding high now. I’d earned myself a full-blown laugh and a jest. “Look, I can quit at any time.”
Blake merely shook his head at me, his lips still twisted up in a half smile. “You know, I’ll hold you to that. Six weeks out here will be a nice detox for you.”
“Just don’t try to get me into basket weaving. I can’t afford bringing a hobby like that back home.”
“I’ll try to remember to keep you away from the pavilion when Mara, our basket maker, starts doling out supplies next week.”
I stopped short. “Wait, is that actually an activity you have here?” Man, I really needed to look up the damn itinerary.
To his credit, Blake gave me no answer, keeping me on my toes indefinitely. Instead, he simply nodded his head back toward the trail and said, “Come on, let’s keep moving.”