The Summer Intern (Camp Eagle Ridge #4)

1. Casey

one

Casey

M arch 30

“Summer camp? You?” my brother Oliver cackled. “Yeah, right. I can’t picture you living in a cabin in the woods for the entire summer. Where would you store your hair products?”

“Shut up.” My hand lifted to my hair, and I was sure Oliver saw it, but what was a boy to do? My latest experiment in hair color had resulted in a pale pink that I was obsessed with, and my perfectly mussed, wavy bangs took more time than I’d ever admit to Oliver. I preferred to let people think I woke up like this.

Oliver just grinned. “Also, you’d have to go in the sun. Horror!”

“That’s what sunscreen is for. I don't hate the sun. I like to protect my skin from the elements, unlike some heathens,” I said, huffing.

“Hey, I use sunscreen!” Oliver said, even though his much tanner skin told another story. Oliver and I were a year apart, and people used to think we were twins, at least until we were nine, when Oliver decided to be more active and outdoorsy and tanned, and refused to dye his hair to match mine. It was a wonder we still got along.

He reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a book.

“No books! You’re supposed to be networking.” I snatched it out of his hand and stuffed it back into his bag.

“Can’t I just apply online?”

“Getting some FaceTime with them is so much better. Some of these places get thousands of applications. You need to stand out. Look for a nonprofit that’s saving the planet and intern with them or something,” I said. “I’m going to go browse jobs in education and the arts.”

Oliver huffed and turned a circle on the floor, then pointed towards a sign with a bird conservation message on it. “Fine! I’ll go over there.”

As Oliver walked away, I turned to look around the crowded gymnasium, honing in on a cluster of tables that were focused on summer jobs in education. Students milled around several of them, including a group of summer camps, none of which seemed to be my style. One called Camp Eagle Ridge had a big cluster of students around it, but all I could see was a big poster showing happy kids rock climbing and rowing boats on a mountain lake.

Eww. Pass on that one.

But the music camp next to it looked perfect, and I walked over and waited behind three girls who were talking animatedly to the woman sitting at the table about their lifelong love for their instruments. As I waited, I let my gaze wander, wondering which of these options would be best for my future. With a double major in music and education, I knew what I wanted to do with my life, which probably wasn’t true for most 20-year-old college juniors. But when I’d started understanding my queer identity as a young boy, it had been a music teacher, aptly named Ms. Song, who’d brought me out of my shell and given me the confidence to be who I was. And there was nothing that I wanted more than a job where I could teach kids like me about expressing themselves through music while learning to be their authentic selves.

In front of me, the woman at the table began talking about her camp’s rigorous music curriculum, and I frowned, wondering if it was the right place for me, after all. I wanted to teach kids in a space that emphasized creativity, community, and free-thinking, not six hours a day alone in a practice room.

And that was when he caught my eye — possibly the most attractive man I’d ever seen. He was tall and well-built, wearing jeans and a t-shirt that were somehow both perfectly tailored to his gorgeous body and casual. His face was that of a movie star, with high cheekbones and a square, defined jawline, with bright green eyes that sparkled as he laughed at something the boy in front of him said.

Even better, his t-shirt had a subtle retro pride flag on it. And on the table next to him, there was an LGBTQ flag, with the words ‘everyone is welcome here’ printed on it. Maybe the rock climbing place wouldn’t be so bad. Hell, maybe they had indoor activities they needed counselors for, too! Campers needed to be indoors sometimes, didn’t they?

The sexy green-eyed man caught me looking at the sign and grinned, waving me over, and I fell into his trap as he stuck out his hand. “Hey, I’m Sutton, assistant director at Camp Eagle Ridge."

“Casey Kim,” I said, shaking Sutton’s hand.

“And this is Matt, our director.” He pointed to the lumberjack sitting next to him, who lifted a brow and gave me a once-over.

Matt’s brows shot up, his eyes widening. He did not look impressed.

“Say hi, Matt,” Sutton prompted.

“Hi, Matt,” Matt said with a smirk. Then he turned and started talking to an outdoorsy-looking girl who’d walked up behind me.

Sutton rolled his eyes. “Ignore him. He’s judging you because you’re not wearing hiking boots in the city.”

I looked down at Matt’s feet, and sure enough, he was wearing big, well-worn boots that were so dirty they’d probably left muddy footprints across the convention center. Sutton, on the other hand, was in a stylish pair of pink sneakers.

“Tell me a little about yourself, Casey.” Even Sutton’s smile was perfect.

“I’m a music and education double major at Oregon State.”

“That’s awesome. What instruments do you play?”

“Guitar and piano, but I’ve played a lot of instruments because I want to be able to teach them.”

“So you want to work with kids?”

“Yeah. Queer kids in particular. Because, well, you know.” I pointed to my outfit and shrugged. “If I could be that one teacher who makes things a little easier for kids who were struggling with their identity, that would mean a lot.” Something clicked in my mind. “Wait, Camp Eagle Ridge. You guys were all over social media a year or two ago, weren’t you? Because you renovated the whole camp into an LGBTQ+ camp?”

Matt turned to me and snorted. “It’s an outdoor adventure camp, not an LGBTQ+ camp.”

Sutton poked him, then turned back to me. “We renovated it to be more inclusive,” he said. “For example, we eliminated the gender-segregated camp environment and changed the large group cabins into more private dormitories.”

“Why not brand yourself as LGBTQ+ then?” I asked.

Matt rolled his eyes. “Because it’s an outdoor adventure camp. Outdoor adventure is our passion. The camp is inclusive because it allows all types of kids to enjoy outdoor adventure."

“He doesn’t like the city,” Sutton whispered. “It makes him cranky.”

“I’m fine in the city,” Matt groused. “I’m just tired of all the people who think the camp is for queer kids only. The idea behind all the renovations was to make it inclusive, not exclusive in another way.”

“So, are you interested in teaching music?” Sutton asked, turning back to me. “I’m afraid we don’t have much of a music program. Though, should we?”

But I couldn’t let Matt’s comment drop. “Being for queer kids doesn’t exclude others! It provides a safe space for kids who need it. But of course, a cis straight white man wouldn’t understand that,” I snapped, stepping towards him.

“You don’t know me, kid,” Matt snapped.

“I’m not a kid,” I snapped. “I’m 20. I just look young because of my flawless Korean skincare routine. And genetics.”

“And the pink hair,” Matt added.

“Why doesn’t your camp have a music program? Where’s the creative expression? Maybe not all kids want to spend every day being rugged and outdoorsy, wearing flannel and growing a beard.”

Matt blinked, his eyes darting towards Sutton, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “Because it’s an outdoor adventure camp.” He spoke in a low, slow voice, as if he thought I was dim-witted. "Where kids come for outdoor adventures."

Sutton cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “Most of our campers are eleven to fifteen, so the boys would be thrilled to grow a beard.” He followed that with a fake laugh, then laid a hand on Matt’s thick bicep, as if trying to calm the beast next to him.

“They’d be thrilled to be able to express themselves through art or music as well!” I said.

“We have an arts and crafts cabin, and the kids sing songs at the campfire. There’s plenty of room for creative expression.”

“Oh yeah, nothing says ‘finding yourself through the arts’ like making a friendship bracelet in a dinky shack,” I said, rolling my eyes. “If you were truly inclusive, you’d create spaces where kids felt safe and heard, and the arts can do that for a kid.”

“So can the outdoors. And we’re an outdoor. Adventure. Camp,” Matt said, tapping his finger on the camp’s brochure to punctuate each word. “Not an art camp, not a music camp, not a queer camp. We give kids a chance to find themselves in nature. It’s our thing.”

“Why the fuck can’t you have more than one thing?” I was shouting now, standing nose-to-nose with Matt over the table. He let out a low growl, and I realized just how much bigger he was than me.

"Matt's life passion is introducing kids to outdoor adventure," Sutton said, sounding flustered.

"You can't change what Camp Eagle Ridge is about," Matt growled, standing up and leaning over the table, glaring at me.

But he ran a kid’s summer camp. He didn’t beat people up, did he? I took a step back, just in case.