11. Elouise
Elouise
After the pencil incident, I managed to avoid Beckett all the way through lunch. Rebecca probably would’ve given me shit for hiding but she was too busy making goo-goo eyes at Bob.
Finally, for the first time all day, I’m able to relax.
I found a table full of quiet girls and their moms, who happily let me join them for lunch. And they don’t seem to mind that I’m sitting with my thoughts rather than joining in conversation.
Double bonus, as lunch wraps up, instead of breaking us up into groups for the next activity, Beckett just had us stay with our tablemates.
So, feeling excited about the reprieve from males, I hang with my girl-group while we learn simple first aid techniques. We wrap fake-sprained fingers. Search for sticks that would make good splints for broken bones. And learn the best ways to treat a burn in the wild.
Beckett keeps a cool head, walking through the groups – praising efforts, giving advice, and melting panties.
I try to focus on our tasks, but it’s hard to stop my mind from spiraling around Beckett.
Where did he learn all this stuff?
How did he know about the mushrooms?
Where is he living now?
Is he back? Is that why he’s here ?
Last I’d heard, he was living in The Windy City, but after that ill-fated Christmas party where my teenaged heart was crushed by the reality of our differences, I stopped asking after him.
And then of course a few years later the Coffee Incident happened. Maddie was witness to that travesty, but I never breathed a word of it to my family.
And less than a year later I left for college.
There were a few times that I thought about googling Beckett’s name, looking him up on MySpace, finding him on Facebook, but I always chickened out. I was too worried that he’d somehow find out. And it wasn’t like I’d’ve sent him a friend request.
A small snort escapes me at the memory. What a fool I was.
“Sorry, what was that?” one of the moms asks me.
I wave it off, “Just a cough.”
She looks skeptical but Beckett’s voice draws her attention. “Alright, everyone, we’ll gather together for this last-”
A sharp whistle has the whole camp wincing.
Beckett slowly turns to face Mr. Olson, whose whistle is still pressed to his lips.
“Thanks,” Beckett’s voice is so dry, I have to slap a hand over my mouth to keep from snorting again.
We’ve finally made our way back to the main camp, and it looks like Beckett has one more thing planned for us.
Everyone shifts closer, and I surreptitiously keep an eye on Adam, making sure to keep several bodies between us.
“Shorties in front.” Beckett gestures for some of the kids to move up.
“I’m going to show you what I keep in my emergency kit.
” He holds up a zippered pack that looks a lot like a soft sided lunch box.
“The basics will be the same wherever you go, but depending on your situation you might want to adjust what you keep on hand.”
The kids all lean in closer as Beckett opens the kit and takes items out.
I’m amazed that they’re this interested in something so mundane, but I’m also leaning closer to the action, too. It’s probably just Beckett. His magnetism must work on everyone, not just single horny women .
Pulling out a large Ziplock bag, Beckett addresses the group, “For this next one, I’m going to need a helper for my demonstration.”
I squint my eyes, but he’s lowered the bag to his waist so I can’t see what’s in it.
“Miss Hall.”
My eyes snap up to meet his, as my cheeks blush. Again.
I’d been trying to see what was in the bag, but it probably looked like I was staring at his junk.
“Yes?” I croak out.
“Come here,” his eyes hold mine as he waits a beat, “please.”
A shudder rolls through my body.
Beckett Stoleman commanding me around? Yes, fucking please.
“Coming!” I call out, and I swear I hear Rebecca choke on a laugh.
I pick my way through the seated kids, praying that my face doesn’t look like a tomato by the time I reach Beckett’s side.
“Thank you for volunteering,” Beckett jokes, making some of the parents laugh.
Gathering my courage, I step up beside him and give him my best smile. “Happy to help.”
“I had a feeling,” he smirks.
A heavy arm drapes over my shoulders and I force myself to stay still, rather than lean into his side.
“Miss Hall is gonna help me show you how to properly treat a laceration.” When the kids continue to stare, he clarifies, “A cut.” Using his grip on my shoulder, he turns me towards him. “Would you please pull up the sleeve of your sweatshirt?”
He lets go of me, then taps my right forearm.
“Oh, um, okay.” I stammer, at a loss for something better to say.
The sun came out earlier, warming up the day, so I took off my jacket a while ago.
A moment later I have both layers of shirt sleeves scrunched up around my elbow.
“Perfect.”
Beckett leans down to his pack and one of the younger boys lets out a scream. “He’s going to cut her!” And I recognize him as one of the kids that witnessed Beckett using the knife on the pencil .
I might not know Beckett well, but I’m quite certain he’s not going to slice my arm open.
Beckett holds up a purple marker in his hand, “I promise I’m not going to hurt your Miss Hall.” He holds his other hand out to me. “Trust me.”
I don’t know if it’s a question or a statement, but I answer as I place my palm in his. “I do.”
It’s a simple thing. And easy admission. But something about this moment feels big. Bigger than a first aid demonstration.
It feels like… a new chapter.