14. Miller
In the moonlight, her pupils dilate, making her deep brown eyes look almost black.
I lean in, close enough that she would only need to move a few inches for our lips to meet. Close enough that my intentions can’t be misunderstood.
But I wait, needing her to make this move. I’ve been waiting for her to let me in, and this could be our chance. Holding myself still is torture when her lips are this close. A couple of inches is all that separates me from what I’ve been dreaming of since the first day I saw her.
All I want to do is pull her in, crush my lips to hers, and make her mine.
But she needs to make this decision, not me. I can’t take this from her.
Becca’s sharp intake of breath has me closing my eyes, waiting for her lips to meet mine.
But instead of her warm lips, cool air brushes my face.
I open my eyes to find Becca stepping back from me. Her gaze is on the ground, avoiding my eyes as she shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I should go.”
I take a step back too, giving her space. What just happened? “That was—I’m sorry. You don’t have to go. Walk with me?”
I need to salvage this somehow. Maybe I got carried away, tried to move too fast. What did I think, that a few minutes of walking in the moonlight was going to change her entire opinion of me?
Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought. I opened up, showed her the part of me that I keep hidden from the rest of the world. I thought that maybe if she saw that part, she’d understand. That she’d give in to the attraction that’s been growing between us.
It’s obvious, at least to me. Can’t she feel it?
Becca hesitates, indecision written across her features.
My voice is soft, like I’m speaking to a scared animal, because that’s exactly what she reminds me of. A shy creature who’s about to bolt. “I want to know more about you. What made you decide to come up to camp for the summer? What do you do the rest of the year?”
I hold my hand out, palm up. I’m hoping she’ll take it, like a peace offering as I try to transition the conversation to something that’s not as emotionally charged as the moment between us was.
Patience, Miller. Give her time. Give her space.
But instead of taking my hand, she stiffens into that posture I’m getting to know so well, the one where she puts up walls between herself and the rest of the world. Between us.
Her face shutters, all emotions disappearing from view.
“I-I have to go.” She stumbles as she hurries across the sand toward the dining hall.
I watch her, stunned. That seemed like a benign question. I wanted to engage her in small talk, not scare her off.
How did that send her running even faster than my almost kissing her?
Clearly, there’s something I don’t know, and I’m going to make it my mission to find out. Because Becca might think that her blowing me off tonight made me less interested, but all it did was pique my interest even further.
I need to know more. I need to know everything about this girl.
Becca walks quickly past the light of the dining hall, disappearing into the shadowy night. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out as I turn back toward the beach.
Mom
How’s it going? Can’t wait to hear about my future daughter-in-law!
I roll my eyes as I type out a text back. My mom has always offered her unwavering support for anything I say I want to do, no matter how improbable or poorly thought out my goals might be. I tell her I have a crush on a girl? She starts planning the wedding.
Crash and burn this time. There’s something there that I can’t quite figure out with her.
Keep trying. Mama didn’t raise no quitter.
Thanks. You know I will. Jordan still up?
Yeah, I’ll see if he wants to talk.
I wait, and a minute later Mom sends a thumbs-up emoji to indicate that Jordan is up for talking. I make my way back to the swing.
Sitting here to call my mom earlier might have been a little bit of a calculated decision. I was hoping to see Becca, and since I know she loves this spot, I took a gamble and hung out here. But the spot is growing on me for its own merits. It’s the perfect place to sit and relax without distractions.
I settle in against the smooth wood before scrolling to the contact for my mom’s house phone and dialing the number. Even though Mom has had a cell phone for years, she’ll never give up her house phone.
“Hello?” Jordan’s voice comes through the speaker as the call connects.
“Hey, Jordan. It’s me. Thanks for talking on a Sunday.” Jordan loves routine. Sometimes he’ll just refuse to talk if I call on a day other than our usual Tuesday.
“It’s okay. I was playing a video game, but I’m done now.”
“Mario Kart?” That one’s his favorite. Mine, too. It’s an old classic that we discovered when the Nintendo Classic came out and we ended up loving it more than any of the more modern games we had on our other systems.
I used to be able to beat him easily at almost any video game, but it didn’t hurt that I’m seven years older, and that my motor skills were more advanced, since his Down Syndrome delayed some of his skills. He’s gotten better with lots of practice, and now we’re pretty evenly matched.
“Yeah. Do you like camp?” Dishes clank in the background. He must be in the kitchen, maybe cleaning up after dinner. Or getting a snack.
My stomach rumbles at the thought of food. I wonder if the campers would wake up if I dug out some of the snacks I have hidden in the cabin in a bag under my bed. The chips might make a lot of noise, but there are other options in there. Gummy worms might hit the spot.
“I do like it. It’s really fun. Maybe you can come up and visit sometime this summer. I’ll stop by on my way home at least and stay with you guys for a few days so we can hang out. Are you taking care of Mom?” I push off the ground, making the swing sway gently.
“Yeah. We had spaghetti for dinner tonight.” Jordan’s favorite. Even though he lives with Mom primarily because of his disability, he really does take care of her, and he’s damn proud of it. The two of them split the cooking and laundry duties; Jordan does the grocery shopping and Mom does the driving.
Over the years since he’s finished high school, they’ve settled into a steady routine.
“With marinara? My favorite. Hey, how’s work? Did they make you employee of the month again?” That would make it… six times, now, in the four years he’s worked there?
We chat for another twenty minutes about Jordan’s job as a bagger at the grocery store.
I wish everyone could see what I see when I look at Jordan. His hard work and dedication, unwavering loyalty to friends and family, his unbridled optimism. So many people just see his disability.
He had some health challenges when he was young, so it wasn’t always the easiest growing up with him for a brother, but it’s shaped me into who I am in lots of ways.
“Did you do any pranks yet?” Jordan asks, as the subject turns back to camp.
I can imagine his blue eyes shining, mirror images of mine. When we were little, he was the best sidekick for the pranks I’d pull on Mom.
Still my favorite by far: the time Jordan and I tried to switch places and trick Mom into thinking he was me and I was him. It was mostly Jordan’s idea, and we weren’t exactly convincing when he was nine and I was fifteen. The identical blond hair and blue eyes only go so far.
I chuckle. “Not yet. I borrowed a pair of my friend Brett’s boxers. Thinking about putting them on the flagpole. Think that’d be funny?”
He howls with laughter, which gives me my answer. Jordan has always been my target audience for my pranks if he’s not involved in them in the first place. He loves things that are generally funny and harmless at the same time, so that’s always the goal.
“Underwear on a flagpole! That will be funny. Will they say the Pledge of Allegiance to them?”
I smirk at the idea. “The Pledge of Underwear, maybe.”
This sets Jordan off again. When his laughter finally dies down, I pull the phone away from my ear to check the time.
“Hey, Jordan, I have to go. It’s almost curfew. We have to be in our cabins by ten.” It’s a stupid rule, if you ask me. I’m twenty-nine and usually stay out at bars past ten. I don’t need to be told when to be in bed.
But if I get fired over a stupid rule, I’ll lose any chance to win Becca over. I wouldn’t put it past her to block my number. Here at camp, she’s stuck with me.
“Okay. Talk to you later. Love you, Miller!” Jordan hangs up the phone.
I head back toward the Fireflies cabins, making a detour by the flagpole to attach Brett’s boxers to the line and hoist them until they’re flying like a flag at the top. He chose well with the ones he offered up; these have hearts all over them in shades of red and pink. The campers will love them.
Like I said, my pranks are meant to be harmless. I didn’t actually steal Brett’s boxers. Who would do that? I asked him for a pair for exactly this purpose. The campers will think it’s hilarious, and since Brett is in on the joke, no one will get hurt. I’m not an asshole.
The entire funny-guy, easygoing, jokester personality was carefully curated back in the day to give people what they want. And no one wants an asshole.
I use the phone’s flashlight to guide my way through the woods to my cabin. When I reach the bathroom that the Fireflies share, a text message flashes on my screen.
CARD SHARKS
Blake: You survive the first day?
Barely. But it was fun.
Maddox: Told you it’d be too much.
Cam: We talked about this. Don’t be a dick.
Maddox: Right. Sorry. You’ve got this, Miller.
Blake: So, are the campers cool?
Exhausting, but yeah. I get a kick out of them.
Cam: How’s the girl?
I thought we were getting somewhere. We walked on the beach tonight.
Blake: Moonlit walk on the beach? Very romantic.
Yeah, except then she bolted.
Cam: Did you show her your dick?
I’m too confused right now to even address that. But no. I just asked her what she did when she wasn’t at camp. How is that a touchy question?
Cam: Maybe she’s in the Mafia.
Maddox: Witness protection?
Cam: Owns a money-laundering front?
Why would she have the summer off from the money-laundering front?
Blake: Honestly, she’s probably in school.
Cam: Or a teacher. Addie has the summer off.
Maddox: Holly says maybe she got fired from her job.
Why are you reading our texts to Holly?
Maddox: She thinks you guys are hilarious. I don’t understand why.
Does she have any advice?
Maddox: She says to take it slow and take your cues from her, but I think that’s terrible advice. If I backed off when Holly didn’t want to go out with me, we wouldn’t be where we are now. Just keep showing up and talking to her and eventually she’ll give up and marry you, like Holly did with me.
Maddox: This is Holly. Maddox has lost his phone privileges. Just be a nice guy and let her take the lead a little.
Man, she’s got you by the balls.
Maddox: Still Holly.
Should I at least text her?
Cam: Sure.
Blake: Can’t hurt.
Maddox: NO LEAVE HER ALONE WHY DON’T YOU GUYS EVER LISTEN TO ME.
Good luck, Maddox.
Maddox: Holly threw the phone at me and says she hates you all.
Holly might think Becca needs me to leave her alone, but Maddox has a point. He didn’t give up on Holly, even after she tried to date half the city trying to find someone better than him.
Addie lusted after Cam for more than a decade before they finally got together.
So maybe Holly thinks she’s giving good advice, but what I’ve learned from watching my friends is that persistence pays off. I consider this as I tap out a text message to Becca, trying to smooth out whatever damage I did tonight.
BECCA
Hey. Hope I didn’t say something I shouldn’t have or make you uncomfortable. Glad you had a good first day with your campers. Sweet dreams.
When I wake up in the morning to the sound of the camp bell ringing, there’s still no answer.