Chapter 9
ISAK
I AM ROOMING WITH LACHLAN DOYLE. I HAVE NO CHILL AT THE MOMENT, BECAUSE I’M ROOMING WITH LACHLAN.
Also: He cannot find out about my crush on him. Period, end of story. He needs to stay in blissful ignorance that I even have a single feeling for him.
Stop. Stop, brain. Don’t get distracted by Lachlan Doyle. OMG. Lachlan with his floppy, golden-boy curls and soft skin, his sad hazel eyes and kissable mouth.
I bite the insides of my cheeks, flatten my lips, and give him an up nod. “Yeah. Okay. Cool.”
I genuinely do not have any idea what else I can say to him. Offering to suck his dick is a bad move, right? And it would probably be the third offer he’s had since he set foot in the camp.
“These beds are vintage,” Lachlan says, dropping his gear on the empty bed. The springs creak.
“Yeah.” I’m so not verbose around him. “I think they’ve been here for a long time.”
He taps one with his knuckle. “Pretty bombproof. I bet they’d be tough to break.”
Great. Now I have images of Lachlan breaking a bed.
Dear Hormones,
Fuck off.
Love,
Isak
I chuckle, mostly at my own internal joke, but I try to pass it off as laughing at what he said. “Need help with anything?”
“Nope.” Lachlan pulls out his sleeping bag and arranges it on the bed. Next he takes a small pillow in a blue pillowcase out of the duffel bag.
I know those dark blue sheets. They star in my dreams.
“How’s your mom?” Lach asks, and I startle at him asking me such a mundane question.
“She’s good. Yours?”
His back stiffens. “Fine.”
Yeah, I’m not asking more than that.
“We’re doing the ropes course first?” I ask.
“Yeah. Do you think you can do that in boots?”
I glance down at what I’m wearing. “Probably not. Nor in these jeans.”
I lean over to unzip my bag and grab a pair of ancient, navy blue UCSB sweatpants. They predate me figuring out my style, but they’re practical.
I shrug out of my jacket and stand to take off my boots and pants. Well, shit, I’m stripping in front of my crush.
Lachlan glances over, sees me in my pink briefs, and averts his eyes. It’s not my imagination that he’s gripping his hoodie so hard his knuckles are turning pale, right?
I drag my sweats on. Were they this tight last time I wore them? I don’t usually wear athletic clothes in front of anyone but my mom. Bowing to practicality, I put on tennis shoes, too.
There’s a knock on the door, and I’m almost relieved at being interrupted.
Almost.
I open the door and, seeing who it is, slip out and join a group of my friends, led by Zanita. “See you at the ropes course,” I call back to Lachlan.
“So,” Zanita asks conspiratorially. “Who are you rooming with?”
“Russ, Josiah, and Lachlan.”
Her head turns toward me fast, and her long hair whips me in the eye.
“Ow!”
“Sorry. But you’re rooming with the quarterback?”
I nod.
She puts a hand on her hip. “How are you going to be able to beat off to him if he’s in the next bed?”
“Oh my god, shush!”
Zanita cackles.
The ropes course lies in an area shaded by a grove of pine trees.
It consists of what seem to be a few rustic woodworking projects, including some weird platforms scattered on the ground, a tall wall—perhaps fifteen feet high—and a tightrope strung between trees that have ladders nailed to the sides of them.
There are about twenty of us in the group.
Including Lachlan Doyle.
The moment he shows up, I worry I wore the wrong pants, because if I pay too much attention to him, everyone’s going to be able to see everything. Oh well.
“Your first challenge is to work together to get the entire group over the wall,” Bambi says, pointing to the structure.
Zanita holds up her hands. “I’m out. Not doing that.”
“The ropes course is voluntary,” Bambi agrees. “No one has to do anything they don’t want to do.”
“One less for us to get across,” someone mutters.
While part of me wants to sit this one out also, I’m curious about how it’s going to go. And, okay, I’ll admit that I want the chance of working next to Lachlan.
Two girls who are track-and-field stars plus Lachlan and Gabe, another football player, start talking strategy.
I raise my hand. “I can go first. I’m tall and light. I can pull people up.”
Everyone looks at me. I suppose I don’t normally volunteer for anything, but whatever.
“Who wants to stay at the bottom?” I continue. “We need to leave another tall person at the end. Someone who won’t need much help to get over.”
Lachlan raises his hand. “I’ll be last.”
I flash him a quick smile, which he returns, thoroughly melting my insides.
Everyone around me seems to agree with the plan.
I eye the top of the wall, which has suddenly stretched to be twice its previous height. But yeah, I can do this. With a boost.
Lachlan gets down on one knee before me, his fingers intertwined like he’s making a step. “Here,” he says. “I’ll lift you up.”
Okay. I like him looking up at me. Don’t get hard.
Balancing a hand on his shoulder—oh, yum—I step on his hands, and between the two of us, plus Gabe pushing my other foot up, I manage to grab the top of the wall and do a pull-up to get myself up to a platform at the side. Everyone applauds.
“Okay,” Lachlan calls to me. “We’re going to start sending people over.”
One of the tall track-and-field girls gets a boost from Lachlan and Gabe, and I lean down and grab her hand, helping her to scale the wall. She makes it to the platform, helps me to pull up the next girl, then climbs down a ladder to the ground.
The group cheers, and I feel the adrenaline of accomplishment coursing through my veins.
We rotate who helps me at the top, and Lachlan and I work together to get the whole crew over the wall.
At the end, it’s just Lachlan down below.
Gabe, who helped Lachlan hoist people up, has now joined me on the platform, and the two of us bend over, holding out our hands to Lach.
He takes a running start and leaps, and I grasp his wrist as he grasps mine.
Gabe catches Lach’s other wrist. Together, we get Lachlan up to the platform.
And I get a front-row view of his biceps bulging. The vein in his forearm. The strength of his shoulders.
Okay, damn, quarterback. You’re very sexy.
Gabe heads down, and Lachlan and I are left standing on the platform, fifteen feet up in the air and panting from the exertion of getting our group over.
He’s very close. His broad chest and sweaty curls are right there.
Lachlan gives me a high five, and I smile at him. “Hey, we did it!” I cheer.
“I’m so happy, I could kiss you,” Lachlan whispers.
I do a double take. “Wait, what?”
He winks and goes to the ladder.
Everyone below applauds, while I’m standing up there confused. Finally, I follow Lachlan to the ground. I want to ask him if he was kidding, but that’s a dorky move, because of course he was kidding. Lachlan will flirt with a rock. Everyone knows that.
Bambi claps. “You guys did that in record time! How do you feel?”
“Like we were working together to achieve a goal,” Lachlan says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
Where’d he come from? He drops his arm fast, but I can still feel his warmth.
“Exactly. Okay, get a drink of water, and then it’s time for your next challenge.”
We do as she says, and once everyone has caught their breath, she walks us over to a square wooden platform on the ground, about four feet by four feet. “Your challenge is to get all twenty of you on the square.”
We glance around. “We’re going to have to get cozy,” Lachlan says.
Everyone steps in, and by the time the last few people find spots on the platform, we’re grabbing each other to stay on. Lachlan’s hand is around my waist, and I’m pressed up against his side.
I turn and look at him, and our noses are so close. Oh, shit.
Hard muscles. Football player. Gorgeous lips. Those eyes. Those eyelashes.
I smile and duck my head.
We manage to get everyone on the platform pretty easily, and everyone cheers, then we step off. We hear cheers from elsewhere in the camp where people are doing another challenge or playing a game.
Then the counselor points to a platform that’s much smaller than the first, maybe two feet by two feet. “Okay, now do it again.”
We all look at the tiny speck of wood that we’re supposed to get twenty people on. But we start strategizing about who is going to sit on whose shoulders, who is going to just have the balls of their feet on the edges with people holding their hands, and we arrange ourselves.
It’s a damn tight fit, but we get everyone off the ground and on the platform.
I’m holding hands with Lachlan and a girl, and I don’t want to let go of him.
I have to, eventually.
He flashes me another panty-melting smile. He’s fucking with me. He has to be. There’s no way he wants anything to do with me.
But I can’t avoid him. We’re in all the same scheduled programming.
I have to say, the first day of senior retreat is kind of fun. In arts and crafts, I make a three-string embroidery floss friendship bracelet for Zanita, and because I finish early, I make one for Lachlan, too. Green, brown, and gold, like his eyes.
“Here,” I say when I’m done, thrusting out my hand.
He tilts his head. “What?”
“I made you a bracelet.”
Lachlan’s face brightens, and he beams at me. “No way!” He holds out his wrist, and I tie the bracelet on him next to his fancy watch.
Big mistake. Now it feels like I have some claim on him. Which I most definitely don’t. Spending time with him is making me nostalgic for our childhood friendship.
Lachlan’s been painting a rock silver with acrylic paint, which is kind of funny because the rock was already a sort of sparkly gray granite, but when he’s done, he hands it to me. “It’s yours,” he mutters.
“Thanks!” I chirp. “I’ll use it as a paperweight.”
He nods.
“People always say you’d flirt with a rock,” I say.
Lachlan chuckles. “Nah, only with hot people. Like you.” Then he stands up, winks at me, and walks away.
Wait, what? My body’s suddenly on fire, and I must be blushing.
He’s not flirting with me. Is he?
After arts and crafts, we go horseback riding. I end up on a horse behind Lachlan. I mostly ignore what his ass looks like in a saddle. Mostly.
Lachlan looks over his shoulder and gives me a smile I’ve never seen before. It’s unreserved and bright. “Hey,” he says. “We made a great team earlier.”
“Yeah.” I beam at him. “We did.”
He watches me for a beat too long, until he has to pay attention to where he needs to go.
What the hell is going on with him? Is he just messing with me?
Or does this mean something?
I smile wistfully as I ride my horse down the path.