8. Casey
eight
Casey
M ay 26
"Come on, Casey, let's take a break from unpacking. The lake's calling our names," Oliver said, tugging at my arm.
“But there’s so much to do!” I groaned, looking up from the half-empty suitcase, I was emptying into our tiny closet. My side of the cabin was chaos, but Oliver had somehow already unpacked, and his bed was neatly made with his favorite pillow and a comforter he’d brought from home. It wasn’t my fault I had more stuff, not really. Oliver was just such a minimalist that he made everyone look bad.
“You need a break. And maybe a snack,” Oliver pleaded. “Please?”
"Fine, but I’m dousing myself in SPF100 first, and if I get eaten alive by bugs, I'm blaming you."
As we stepped outside the cabin, the late spring sun warmed my face. I inhaled deeply, savoring the crisp mountain air tinged with pine. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.It was beautiful here, what with the lake, and the trees, and the additional trees behind the first trees. I could really see myself starting to not hate it!
My optimism lasted approximately 30 seconds.
"Yah!" I yelped, swatting wildly at a swarm of tiny mosquitoes that descended upon me. "What the actual fuck?!"
Oliver snickered as I flailed about, my arms windmilling. "Having some trouble there, bro?"
"Shut up and help me!" I sputtered, dancing in place. "They're attacking me!"
My brother just stood there, mosquito-free, and highly amused. Traitor.
"It must be your hair," he mused. "That shampoo smells too nice, and it’s so colorful, like a flower."
I paused mid-slap to glare at him. "First of all, rude. This indigo is a work of art. Second, mosquitoes don't even like sugar!"
"How would you know? You're a city boy."
"I know things, I study things," I retorted, resuming my interpretive bug-avoidance dance. "And I’m cultured. Unlike these country bumpkin insects with no taste."
Oliver just laughed.“Maybe they have good taste, because they like you.”
As we neared the shimmering expanse of the lake, a fresh-smelling breeze off the water cleared out the bugs, and I thought about the changes since we’d first visited in the winter. With the warm weather and sunshine, I could almost see this place being pleasant. If we could do something about the bugs. And Matt and I have even almost gotten along the last few times we’d worked together. Sure, we needed Sutton to referee, but that was a step in the right direction.
I hadn’t seen the cranky camp director since we’d arrived. Sutton had let us into the cabin, telling us Matt had been busy with his friend Wade, doing repairs and cleaning up the grounds for the arrival of the campers.
A mosquito dive-bombed my ear, as if determined to destroy my happy thoughts.
"Gah!" I swatted furiously. "That's it, I'm going back to finish some unpacking. Then maybe I’ll do some work. Matt may be aggravating, but at least he doesn’t try to eat me."
“Not yet, anyway.” Oliver laughed, clearly enjoying my misery. "Come on, drama queen. The lake's right there. Race you to the dock!"
He took off running, leaving me to stumble after him, still battling my winged assailants.
"Not fair!" I called out. "I'm being attacked! Oliver! Don't leave me here to die!"
As I caught up, I stopped on the dock, panting, and glared at Oliver, my mood souring. "This is not what I pictured for my summer of fun and romance. I was thinking more along the lines of, I don't know, a hot, rugged lifeguard stranger rescuing me from the depths of the lake and sweeping me off my feet. Not being eaten alive by nature's tiny vampires."
"Hot, rugged lifeguard, huh?"
I was about to describe my ideal lifeguard when movement a little ways around the lakeshore caught my eye. Squinting against the sun's glare on the water, I spotted two familiar figures lounging at a picnic table. "Hey, isn't that Sutton and Ben?"
Oliver followed my gaze. "Yeah, looks like. And that's... oh! That's Aiden with them. My new boss. I’d better let him know we got in okay." Before I could ask who the fourth guy was, Oliver was already jogging towards the group. "I'm gonna go say hi. Be right back!"
"Wait, what? Oliver!" I called after him, but he was already out of earshot. "Don't leave me here alone with these bloodsucking fiends!"
As if on cue, a large butterfly fluttered directly into my face. I yelped, arms flailing as I tried to ward off the deceptively aggressive insect. "Oh come on! Even the butterflies are out to get me?"
A deep voice to my left nearly made me jump out of my skin. "You know butterflies are harmless, right?"
I whirled around, my heart pounding, and found myself face-to-muscled shoulders with… Holy shit.
He was possibly the hottest guy I'd ever laid eyes on. Shirtless, wearing only a pair of cargo shorts that hung low on his hips, he was leaning over one of the camp’s picnic tables doing something with a wrench. Wrenching? Was that what you called it? That didn't sound right.
My mouth went dry as my eyes traveled over his body. Intricate tattoos adorned his muscular arms, trailing down out of sight over his chest. He stood, turning to face me, and fuck me — were those pierced nipples? I couldn't tear my gaze away from his sculpted abs, the tantalizing v-line disappearing into his shorts, the light dusting of hair on his chest.
"You okay there?" His deep voice jolted me from my trance.
"I, uh..." I stammered, finally, regretfully, dragging my eyes up to his face. Clean-shaven, with a strong jawline, and... wait a minute. The man bun. Those startlingly blue eyes. That familiar quirk of his lips. Matt.
"Holy shit," I blurted out. "When did you get so... I mean, where's your... fuck."
Matt's eyebrows shot up, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Articulate as ever, I see."
I felt my face burn. Great. Not only was Matt apparently secretly hot as hell, but I'd just made a complete fool of myself. Again.
"Sorry," I managed. "I just... wasn't expecting... this." I gestured vaguely at his entire... everything.
Matt's mouth ticked up in a half-smile as he reached out, his hand coming towards my face. I froze, my heart pounding. Was he going to touch me? But his fingers tilted upward, gently sweeping at my bangs.
"Nothing to worry about," he said softly. "Little guy just likes your hair."
I blinked, confused, until I saw the delicate butterfly perched on his fingertip. It fluttered its wings before taking off.
"Oh," I breathed, still dazed from Matt's proximity. The scent of pine and sunscreen clung to him, making my head spin. "Well, the new lavender color is dead sexy, so I get it."
Matt laughed, a rich, warm sound that made my insides melt. "It suits you," he said, his eyes twinkling.
I cleared my throat, desperately grasping for something intelligent to say. "So, uh, where'd your beard go? I didn’t recognize you at first.”
"Ah yes, the mysterious vanishing beard," Matt played along, stroking his smooth chin dramatically. "I employed an ancient, arcane technique known as... shaving."
I snorted, rolling my eyes. "Okay, smartass. But why? I thought the whole rugged mountain man look was your thing."
Matt shrugged, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t really intentionally go for a specific look.”
“Oh, come on. You have a man bun! And there's always flannel! It's a cultivated look straight out of an REI catalog.”
Even his smirk was sexier. “Right, well, I'll keep that in mind if I want to take up modeling. It's just about practicality, though. I get itchy to shave the beard when it gets hot out. But now that I know it makes me look less rugged and outdoorsy, maybe I'll grow it back.”
“I didn’t say less rugged. The clean-shaven look is... working for you."
I couldn't decide where to look. My eyes kept darting between Matt's chiseled abs, his strong arms, and those goddamn pierced nipples. Holy shit. What else was pierced? My eyes dropped to his crotch and my imagination ran wild, and from the heat in my cheeks, I was pretty sure I was bright red.
Matt was talking, something about picnic tables, and then he rambled on to donated instruments for the music classroom, but I couldn't process a word. He turned back to the table, tightening a bolt with that clicky type wrench, and I watched, mesmerized, as his muscles flexed and rippled under sun-kissed skin.
”Sorry, had to finish that or I’d forget what I was doing and leave the socket wrench behind,” he said, tapping his temple. “The ADHD makes me forgetful.”
”I didn’t know you had ADHD,” I said vaguely. “I have anxiety, so… I mean, yeah.” How did I explain that flaws made him a bit more relatable?
"You? Anxiety? No…” He winked, and even his winks were sexy. That was odd, because I usually found winks quite creepy. “Anyway, we'll have some new guitars and a drum set thanks to that local high school music teacher my friend Sylvie hooked me up with.”
Did that mean he was hooking up with the music teacher? Something about that irritated me. My eyes trailed back down to his abs, and I licked my lips.
“She offered us some loaners," Matt was saying. "You’ll have to take care of them to make sure they get back to her in good shape, but you can stop nagging me about the campers having a primal need to drum."
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Totally.” My brain felt like mush. Did intense lust make people stupid? "Sounds great."
"You okay there? You seem a little distracted. And — dare I say — less argumentative than usual?"
I forced a laugh. "Me? Nah, I'm good. Just, uh, thinking about all the unpacking I still have to do."
Matt nodded, then leaned over to pack his tools back up in a tool box. His shorts sagged down, revealing two perfect dimples on his lower back. Jesus Christ. My mouth went dry, and I felt a telltale stirring in my pants.
"Shit!" I yelped, louder than I meant to. I couldn’t get a hard-on. Not now, not in these very snug-fitting jeans. Not from just looking at my boss’s thick, round ass in shorts. Fuck, it was a glorious ass, though.
Matt straightened up, looking concerned. "Everything alright?"
"Yep! Fine! Just remembered I left my, uh... hair straightener on. Gotta go!" I blurted, already backing away. "See you later!"
”Didn’t you want to yell at me about anything?” he called after me.
Without waiting for a response, I turned and sprinted back towards my cabin, face burning and heart pounding. What the hell was wrong with me? One shirtless encounter and I was falling apart. Matt was my adversary, not an object of lust.
As I ran, I silently cursed Matt Blackstone and his stupidly hot body and stupidly annoying personality. This summer was going to be the death of me.