Nerdplay

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

A stampede follows the human alarm. Specks of dirt invade my eyes, kicked up by Stefan, who is probably halfway to Harrisburg by now.

“I’ll take care of it,” Charlie says without hesitation.

How does he intend to take care of a bear? Blind and confused, I stumble forward, uncertain which way to go to avoid being mauled to death.

My vision finally clears, and I see Charlie doubled over, shoulders shaking. It takes me a second to realize that he’s laughing.

I look around. We’re the only two left in the clearing—unless you count the raccoon currently scampering into the woods.

“False alarm,” Charlie says, recovering his breath and retuning to an upright position.

“What did you intend to do if it was a bear?”

He blinks in rapid succession. “I don’t actually know.”

Charlie wasn’t just heroic. He was manly , a realization that fuels a deep thrum in my lower abdomen. I silently berate my body for this betrayal. He’s the enemy. The Kylo Ren to my Rey.

On second thought, not the best analogy.

Charlie cups his hands around his mouth. “It’s safe to come out. It was only a raccoon.”

Campers slowly emerge from their hiding spots like the Lollipop Guild after the house falls on the Wicked Witch of the East.

“It looks like somebody left trash outside the bins,” I announce.

“I’m not going to ask you to out yourself, but I am going to ask you to never, ever do that again.

Proper storage of trash is essential to the health and safety of this camp.

” And I can’t afford any issues, not with LandStar hovering like a vulture and waiting for any sign of a carcass.

Olivia promptly bursts into tears.

Gloria flings an arm around her. “What is it, little bit?”

“It was me. I dropped a napkin and then I couldn’t find it. I thought it blew away.”

Gloria kissed the top of her head. “The raccoon wasn’t attracted to a napkin, hon.”

Olivia sniffs. “What if the napkin had ketchup on it?”

Ben wraps his arms around her. “That wouldn’t be enough.”

Adam removes his helmet and wipes aside the damp strands of hair stuck to his forehead. “I think it was me. I’m so sorry, everyone. I put a few bits of hotdog in my pocket at dinner. I intended to give it to Chewy before bed.”

Olivia stops crying. “Maybe it was the smell of the ketchup and hotdog together.”

Laura clears her throat. “I think it was my fault. I might have dropped a buttered roll.”

Charlie leans over and whispers, “Is this going to become a Spartacus situation?”

I bite back a laugh. He’s right—now they’re clambering to take responsibility for the mishap.

I love my campers.

Gloria pulls a tissue from her pocket and passes it to Olivia. The girl wipes her eyes with such vigor, I’m afraid she’s going to rub her eyeballs raw. I’m relieved when I see Ben urge her to be gentler.

“She’s tired,” Ben says with regard to his granddaughter. “It’s well past her bedtime.”

“Mom and Dad don’t let me stay up until midnight,” Olivia crows.

“Let’s keep this between us, shall we?” Ben steers her toward their cabin.

“Still want to race to the water?” Charlie asks. His bright eyes hold mine for a beat longer than necessary, and I feel that pesky tug in my lower abdomen. I do not support the reaction my body seems to be having to him. In fact, I strenuously object.

“Let’s do it. On the count of three. One…” I sprint toward the lake. Unfortunately, I start laughing at Charlie’s shocked response, which causes me to lose my lead.

We splash into the water at the same time, fully clothed.

“You laugh like you’ve been smoking menthols since you were ten years old,” Charlie says.

“Rude.”

“It’s a compliment, Cricket. Take it.”

“In what world is that a compliment?”

“I’m telling you your laugh is sexy as hell. Take the win.”

“So you’re telling me you think a ten-year-old who smokes menthols is sexy? Gross.” Despite my response, my insides begin to heat up like the core of a volcano.

He knocks on my head. “Are you being deliberately obtuse? That’s not remotely what I’m telling you.”

I cling to the word ‘sexy’ like it’s wreckage from the Titanic and I’m a woman without a lifeboat. I’ve only ever been referred to as sexy one other time, and as I’ve stricken that other time from the record that is my brain, I shall consider this the first time.

“I’ve never smoked,” I say, apparently determined to miss the point. I know I have a hard time accepting a compliment—it’s one of my flaws—yet my resistance seems even worse when that compliment is coming from Charlie Thorpe.

“That makes two of us,” he says.

“Really? Is that an athlete thing?”

“Maybe? No idea.”

“What about pot?”

“Nope.”

“Gummies?”

“Only tonight.” He squints at me. “Is this a character assessment?”

“No, we don’t judge here, remember?”

“In that case, I like nothing more than to snort cocaine off the well-worn fur of my childhood teddy bear.”

I fold my arms and glower at him. “There’s no way that’s true.”

“No?”

“No. You’re not sentimental enough to keep a treasured childhood toy.”

“Shows how little you know. Mr. McRibbons is currently occupying the middle shelf in my spare room closet.”

“Mr. McRibbons? Was this name inspired by the famous McDonald’s sandwich?”

“Not at all. He wears a red ribbon around his neck.”

“Then why is he Irish?”

“No idea. I was two. I didn’t exactly have the vocabulary to name him Othello.”

I snort-laugh. “Othello? That would be the adult choice for your bear’s name?”

“No, it would probably be Bryce Harper Bear.”

“Should I get the reference?”

He shakes his head. “Probably not. He’s a baseball player.” His attention shifts to Ben’s cabin. “Olivia was more upset than I would expect. Most kids don’t fully grasp consequences and responsibility.”

“It wasn’t about the napkin or the raccoon,” I admit. “Her parents are getting a divorce. That’s why she’s here. Ben usually comes alone, but he was unexpectedly saddled with a plus-one.” Not that he minded in the least. The sun rises and sets on Olivia as far as Ben is concerned.

Concern creases Charlie’s brow. “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s not contentious, but Olivia is taking it hard.”

“As one would expect.”

“Yeah,” I say. “It came as a shock to Ben too. He didn’t know how unhappy they were. He feels guilty for not being as attuned to his son as he thinks he should’ve been.”

Charlie falls silent. Finally he says, “Ben shouldn’t feel bad. He’s a good dad. I can tell.”

“And a good grandfather too.”

“My father wouldn’t have a clue if I was having problems.”

“Because he isn’t attuned to you or because you hide them from him?”

He shoots me a curious look that I don’t quite understand. “Both. My father isn’t interested in feelings, only achievements. Our conversations consist of whether I finalized any big deals and when I can expect to make partner.”

“That’s a fairly limited conversation.”

“I prefer it that way.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

His head swings to me. “Why are you sorry? You’re not my father.”

“I’m sorry that your relationship with him isn’t what it should be. You deserve loving parents.”

He ponders me. “I get the sense you had loving parents.”

Now it’s my turn to grow quiet. “My mom was amazing.”

“How old were you when she died?”

“Sixteen.”

“You must have good memories of her.”

“Yes and no. Sometimes they’re hazier than I’d prefer. When you don’t have anyone to reminisce with, it feels harder to keep those memories alive.”

He looks like I killed his favorite plant. “You don’t have any family?”

I imagine my smile is as rueful as I feel. “No blood relations. I’m an only child, and so were my parents.”

He takes a minute to process this and then says, “Well, family isn’t everything. Sometimes they’re downright shitty.”

“Oh, I know, believe me. Ask around. Plenty of campers have horror stories. I wouldn’t wish Gloria’s mother on my worst enemy.”

“She’s the one with dementia?”

“Alzheimer’s. But I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the kind of mother she was before she developed the condition.”

“Are we talking Medea or Matilda’s mom?”

I laugh at his literary references. “She’s a momster. Repeatedly told Gloria she wished she’d not had a child. That if it weren’t for Gloria, she would’ve been a Broadway star. That getting pregnant ruined her life.”

Charlie lets loose a low whistle. “Yet Gloria has dedicated her adult life to wiping the drool from the chin of the woman who treated her like that?”

“Because she’s a saint in sheep’s clothing. In a twisted way, Gloria prefers this version of her mother. She’s kinder and seems to appreciate Gloria more than the younger version ever did.”

He drags a hand through his hair. “That’s gotta be rough for her.”

“Why do you think she lives for these two weeks at camp? Once she goes home, it’s another year before she does anything for herself. The memories of the fun she had at this year’s camp will help sustain her for the next twelve months.”

He releases a breath. “What about the other campers? Do they all have stories like that?”

“Everybody has a story, Charlie. That’s why it’s so important to cut people some slack. You never know what they’ve been through. Ben’s wife died a few years ago while he was battling cancer.”

“What happened to her?”

“She went for a walk on a windy day. Got hit by a tree branch and died.”

Charlie falls silent. I don’t blame him. It’s a tough story to hear. The brutal randomness of it. I marvel that Ben found the strength to keep fighting, but he did.

“These aren’t secrets, by the way. They’re very open about their struggles.”

“This isn’t a nerd camp. This is a wellness retreat.”

I feel my body relax. “You’re finally getting it.”

“Thank you for telling me. I feel like I know them a bit better now.”

“And they’d like to know you better, too. Everybody likes you, Charlie. Swag swap was an excellent start, but we both know there’s a lot more to you than a cherished baseball card.”

I feel the shift in energy the moment I mention the baseball card. His eyes shutter and I wish I could snatch back the comment. I was finally chipping away at that wall of his and now this one offhand remark would set me back a few bricks. Lesson learned.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It takes far more than that to upset me, Courtney.”

His use of my real name isn’t lost on me. Despite his protestation, he’s resetting a boundary. One more brick firmly back in place.

“It’s late. I should get some rest,” he says abruptly. “Stefan challenged me to a wizard duel for tomorrow. I have to prep.”

“How do you prep for a wizard duel?”

“For starters, find out what it is. If I need my own wand, I’m SOL.”

“Wands are provided, so don’t worry about that.

” As much as I long to recover our lost ground, I recognize that I need to let him go.

Charlie isn’t someone you can push. The more I press him, the more resistant he’ll become.

I know this because I do the same thing, and the last time I let my guard down for someone I found attractive, I paid the price.

He exits the lake, his clothing stuck to his skin. I wait a couple minutes before following suit, to give him space.

“You two have gotten chummy. I guess he isn’t working for the Empire anymore,” Fiona says as she strides past me with her clothes tucked under her arm. Her Batman glow-in-the-dark camisole and underwear are dripping wet.

“I guess not,” I say, but I honestly have no idea.

No surprise that tonight I dream about Charlie.

This isn’t the first time he’s been featured by my imagination, but it’s the first time his appearance involves sexy times.

I think it’s because of his recent vulnerability.

Of course, afterward, he reverted to his robot form and acted like we’d been formally introduced over a tray of caviar, or whatever they served at fancy lawyer parties.

He finds it hard to share his feelings, that much is obvious.

Based on what he’s revealed about his family, I get the impression that he didn’t hear the words “I’m proud of you” very often, if ever.

And I was proud of him for sharing at swag swap and for participating in karaoke.

He was clearly reluctant, but he joined in, and even better, he was authentic, and that’s all I wanted for him.

Maybe he’d feel better about our lake conversation in the light of day.

On the other hand, maybe I should consider his behavior a warning not to get emotionally involved.

If he’s determined to be an island, let him be one instead of trying to establish a peninsula or an archipelago.

I already serve as a bridge to my campers.

If Charlie wants to join civilization, he’ll have to build his own.