7. Becca
Why won’t he hold still?
Miller planted himself next to me on the bench in M-Hall at the start of the lecture on safety rules, despite my glare, and he won’t stop moving. He’s bouncing his leg, messing with his blond hair that frankly looks like it needs to be cut, doing some weird thing with his hands.
Seriously, just sit still and pay attention.
Yes, I had a preconceived notion of what Mr. What-color-underpants-are-you-wearing would be like.
And lo and behold, looks like I was right.
His easygoing demeanor—too easygoing, if you ask me—and the unkempt blond hair are right in line with what I expected, which was a guy who didn’t take anything seriously.
I may not have pictured the piercing blue eyes, or the way his eyes crinkle at the corners in the most adorable way when he smiles, or the way my body would react to his broad form, but those are hormones. I’m an educated woman. I don’t fall for hormones. I make decisions logically, and I’m picky about who I spend time with.
Miller is not the kind of person that I want to be associated with.
I do my best to focus on the speaker. I’ve heard this talk so many times I could practically give it myself. Camper safety is of the utmost importance. Parents are trusting us with their most prized possessions. It’s important. It’s the same from year to year, so it may not be the most riveting, but I can sit still and pay attention. Unlike some people.
I glare at Miller again to get him to stop fidgeting, but he just gives me a wink.
Oh, no, sir. Do not implicate me in your shenanigans. And why are you latching on to me anyway?
Maybe when we have a break, I can find somewhere else to sit. Camp is where I know what I’m doing. I’m a damn good camp counselor, no matter what else in life I’ve failed at. I don’t need to look like I’m not taking this seriously.
“Okay, we’ll take a five-minute break and then start first aid,” Brett says from the podium.
I stand up so fast Miller’s going to think my seat is on fire. I beeline to Vivien, who is sitting in the back row.
“Want to go to the bathroom?” I blurt out. It was the first place I could think of where I know for sure Miller won’t follow us.
Vivien and Lillian join me in the bathroom, which is more or less pristine despite the twenty or so girls using it this week. Next week at this time, we’ll be fixing clogged toilets on a daily basis.
“How’s Miller?” Vivien asks from the stall next to me.
“Ooh, he’s hot,” Lillian adds. “I love tall guys. And he’s tall. What do you think? Six-three? Four?”
I roll my eyes, even though they can’t see me. “He’s annoying is what he is.”
Vivien laughs. “How? We’re in a lecture. It’s not like he’s talking to you.”
I finish in the stall, then join Lillian at the sinks to wash my hands. “He won’t sit still. It’s distracting.” I have no opinion on his hotness.
Is he attractive? Empirically, yes. But I’m not in the market for a relationship or even a hookup. I’m here for the camp experience: the woods, the campfires, teaching kids how to sail and to appreciate nature. All the things I got from my time as a camper.
Vivien flushes and joins us at the sinks. “Well, I think he’s hot. You should hit that, Becca.”
I roll my eyes again, so they can appreciate just how interested I am in that option. If it even were an option, which is unlikely. Guys like him don’t go for girls like me.
We link arms as we walk back to M-Hall, and I take a moment to appreciate just how amazing this place is. Not just the scent of pine trees, the soft dirt below our feet, and the breeze off the lake. It’s more than that. It’s what I mean when I say the camp experience: the fast friendships that go deep and last long.
I sit in the back with Vivien and Lillian this time, ignoring my natural urge to sit in the front of the class. I scan the benches for Miller but don’t see him until he slides onto the bench next to me.
I bristle. How does he do that? Just appear out of nowhere like some ninja?
“Hey,” he says, sliding a little too close to me.
I’m not entirely sure what he’s doing. Why does he want to sit with me at all? He’s already making friends even faster than I am. Everyone on staff seems to be enamored with Miller, especially after last night’s antics, where he convinced everyone to play flip cup using protein shakes.
I did not participate, in case you’re wondering, but virtually everyone else did. And it turns out that protein shakes, especially those designed as meal replacements, are not meant to be chugged. Shocking, I know.
But he established himself as the life of the party, the big man on campus. Or the big man on camp, as it were. So, any number of people are probably clamoring to sit with him, which makes me wonder, again, why he keeps sitting with me.
“Hi,” I finally force out. I’m not sure what else to add.
Hell, I’m not even sure there’s an actual conversation to be had here, even if I did want to get to know him. He’s like my polar opposite: outgoing, confident, funny. I tend to come out of my shell more here than anywhere else, but it usually takes the campers arriving for me to really get in the groove.
“Excited to learn some first aid?”
I shrug, and I’m saved from having to elaborate by Brett raising his hand at the front of the room to get our attention.
“Okay, this is John Warner, your first aid instructor. I expect you to give him the same respect you give me. More, probably. I’ll see you all at lunch.” Brett steps to the side, and a man who looks like he’s ready to hike the Appalachian Trail, hiking boots and all, takes his place.
John goes through the basics of applying pressure to bleeding wounds and how to splint, then tells us to pair up to practice splinting and making a sling.
I turn to Vivien, but she’s already heading off with Lillian. Traitor. I look around desperately for someone else, anyone else, but everyone is pairing up.
The voice I was hoping to avoid speaks up from behind me. “Looks like it’s you and me.”
I turn around reluctantly. Miller has a smirk on his face, like he planned this.
He probably did fucking plan this. I’m trying to be chill, but I feel like he’s not going to take any of this seriously.
“Come on. Let’s go over here and I’ll splint your arm.” He tugs on my arm.
I have no choice, so I follow him to a spot on the grass. “I’ll splint first. Give me your arm.”
Miller obediently holds his arm out, and I take one of the bandanas that John is passing out and fashion it into a sling. I slide Miller’s arm into it while he watches me with a smile on his face.
“Your arm is too big for this sling,” I say when I can’t fit it into the small bandana. I’ve never had trouble with first aid before. Why does he have such big biceps?
And it’s not hot. It’s not. I don’t care about his stupid arms.
I grab a second bandana from the pile and adjust my sling until his stupidly large arm fits, then tie it around his neck. “There. You’re splinted.”
“I feel better already,” Miller says, grinning wider. It’s almost charming. I’m sure that’s the intent, at least. But he’s nowhere near winning me over. If anything, I’m more annoyed with him than I was earlier today, when he was busy fidgeting in his seat. “What about you? Which arm is broken?”
I offer him my left arm.
He pulls the sling I fashioned off and unties the knots, then looks at the two bandanas, frowning. “Hmm. I think maybe it’ll work better if I…”
I should look away, but somehow, I can’t avert my gaze as he grasps the hem of his grey University of Scranton t-shirt and pulls it up and over his head, revealing toned pecs and abs that no one has a right to have other than models and maybe movie stars.
Jesus. What does this guy do for a living? Work out all day? Unbidden, the image of a shirtless Miller covered in a sheen of sweat and lifting weights comes to mind.
He clears his throat, and I shake away those thoughts and meet his eyes. The expression on his face makes it clear that yeah, he knows exactly how good he looks. It’s cocky as hell, and it pisses me off even more.
“Was that really necessary?” I ask, my words coming out almost in a hiss.
My anger doesn’t seem to faze him. “You have a broken arm. I’m just using what I have at my disposal to help you out,” he drawls as he ties a knot in one corner of the shirt, turning it into an actually very functional sling. Dammit.
He wraps the material around my arm. I refuse to think about how soft the shirt is or how good he smells. Is that his deodorant? Or does he just smell all manly like this by himself?
No. No, I don’t care. Because Miller is using this class as an opportunity to flash his pecs instead of actually learning. I just need to get through this part so I can find another partner for the rest of the day.
“Nice job. Good use of resources,” the instructor says as Miller adjusts the sling.
I hold my breath until Miller takes a step back.
“Thanks. Figured it makes sense to practice with what we might have available in an actual emergency, you know?” Miller flashes that smile again, the one that I can tell gets him out of every possible consequence, and the one that’s starting to get on my nerves. “Plus, I got to show off the goods to Becca, so win-win.”
He winks at the instructor, and no he did not.
John laughs as he moves to the next group. Why does everyone fucking love this guy?
My face heats as I pull the sling off me and shove Miller’s shirt back at him.
“Here. Put this on.”
Miller tucks the shirt in the back pocket of his jeans. “Thanks. It’s getting hot out, don’t you think? You’re looking a little flushed yourself.”
I’m going to murder him. How did he get this job anyway?
* * *
We make it through one more exercise, practicing a pressure dressing to stop bleeding, before we break for lunch.
I catch up with Vivien and Lillian as we all head toward the dining hall. “How could you leave me with him?” I ask under my breath, peering over my shoulder.
Lillian laughs. “Aw, it was cute. And man, those abs. I want to lick them.”
Vivien nods. “Same. Just wait till lifeguard training this afternoon. There’s a guaranteed shirtless Miller.”
If there’s anything the last day and a half has taught me, it’s that Miller enjoys attention. I’m pretty sure he’d take off his shirt for no reason to get attention, and apparently it works on some girls.
Some. Not me, obviously.
I’d actually almost forgotten about lifeguard training. It’s not the full course, just a refresher to make sure we’re all up to speed on things, and we practice the different rescues. You don’t have to even be a lifeguard to come to the training, and you can opt out of it if you don’t work on the waterfront. So I’m crossing my fingers that maybe Miller won’t be there. Since I’m spending another summer in Boating—I do a happy dance in my mind—I have to do it, and I can’t wait.
Lunch is grilled cheese, one of my favorites, and I eat one too many sandwiches before remembering I’ll be in a bathing suit in thirty minutes.
But again, I’m not here to impress anyone. I don’t give a fuck if people see my little food baby.
I take one more half a sandwich and take a huge bite, savoring the taste of the off-brand Kraft singles on white bread. It’s not gourmet, but I’m not sure I’ve ever found a better grilled cheese.
“You want to be my partner for lifeguard training?” Vivien asks.
I’m ready to agree, but this time she’s looking at Andrea, who’s nodding. Lillian appears to be pairing up with Bridget.
My anxiety starts to mount, and I hate that even in my happy place it’s getting to me. I hate being left out, always the one picked last at dodgeball and every other sport on the school yard. It’s not like I was bad at sports, even. I was just the quiet kid that everyone kind of forgot about.
I take a deep breath. I’m not Rebecca right now, queen of nervous energy who’s wound so tight no one wants to hang out. I’m Becca. Relaxed, confident Becca. Or at least I can fake it for now.
“Aw, no one wants to be my partner?” I say with a laugh.
Vivien gives me a side hug. “You feeling left out, chica? I figured you were partnering with Miller again.”
Over my dead body.
“Wasn’t really planning on it,” I say.
She gives me a knowing smile, then looks at something over my shoulder. “I think he was planning on it.”
I follow her gaze. Miller gives me a wink.
Why is he always just… there? Doesn’t the man have anything else to do other than watch me? What’s so goddamn interesting about me, anyway?
“Well, he’s out of luck. I’m going to find someone else.” I look around the dining hall.
There are a ton of people. Someone else will be my partner… right?
But as I check in at a few tables, looking for unpartnered people, it looks like I might be the one out of luck.