Olivia
Chapter thirteen
The campers start arriving at noon on Sunday. Unlike the cabin counselors who have to help all the kids in their cabin get situated, my main job today is to provide the campers with an overview of activities during the welcome meeting.
I also have a meeting with the rest of the activities team to share out the schedule for the week.
My roommate, Nina, is the craft counselor, Jake is the nature counselor, and Nina’s boyfriend, Rocky, is the lifeguard.
Each cabin of kids will have swimming time, supervised by Rocky and me, every day, as well as rotating options for hikes, crafts, and boating.
I drop the color-coded schedule off with each of the cabin counselors as part of my morning responsibilities. I linger a little at Gage’s cabin, checking things out. I haven’t seen inside one of the kids’ cabins yet.
It’s a nice set up. There are seven sets of bunk beds, meaning each cabin can fit twelve kids and two counselors—though Gage tells me they try to keep it to eight campers—and a gang-style bathroom with three showers and three toilet stalls.
I can tell Gage is busy, but after spending so much time with him this past week, it feels natural to have him close by. I end up lingering under the guise of helping him by making sure the bathroom has enough soap and toilet paper and checking the mattresses on each bunk.
But, when he’s distracted, I surreptitiously check out his personal space.
He’s set up on the top bunk, with his junior counselor, Jayden, on the bottom.
Gage’s bed is neatly made, with the edges of his blue sheets and lightweight blanket tucked under the mattress.
His pillow still has a visible imprint from his head, and I have to fight the impulse to crawl into his bunk and lay my head in the divot.
He has a few pictures taped to the wall next to his bunk.
There’s one of him and Annie at his college graduation, his smile wide and his fist above Annie’s head, threatening her with a noogie.
Another one of his parents, sitting on the front-porch swing of their house in Austin.
One of a pretty brunette woman and a tall man with dark hair, two kids in front of them. This must be Maggie and her family.
The last picture is Gage surrounded by a group of friends.
I look at each face but don’t recognize a single one.
It’s a weird realization that I don’t know his friends anymore.
I don’t really know what he’s been up to the last five years or what his life is like.
He was such a big part of mine for so long, and I literally walked away.
“Find anything interesting?” Gage’s voice teases from behind me, startling me from my thoughts.
I turn and hop down from where I’ve been standing on the edge of Jayden’s bunk, embarrassed to be caught. “Just looking at the pictures.”
He leans against the wall, arms folded and a cocky smile on his face. “Okay.”
I take a step toward him and push on his chest. “Oh, whatever. I have to say, though, I’m impressed your stuff is so neat.”
Gage pats the side of the mattress. “Hospital corners. It’s an occupational hazard of having a doctor for a mom.”
“Remember this isn’t a military camp. Your kids don’t have to make their beds every morning.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Uh, of course they do.”
“Right, okay. So you’re going to be the counselor nobody likes. Got it.”
Gage takes a step closer to me, a devilish look on his face. “No. Everyone will love me. I’m irresistible.”
A truer statement has never been spoken. I’m 90 percent sure that the slang term rizz was created especially to describe Gage Carter’s special brand of charisma. Everything about him, from his eyes to his caretaking instincts to his magnetic personality, draws me in.
But he can’t know that.
“You wish.” I scoff and brush past him toward the door. “I have more schedules to deliver.” I lift a hand as I leave the cabin, not bothering to turn around. “Catch you later!”
I hear him chuckling as the door shuts behind me.
I think I underestimated the level of chaos that exists when one hundred excited eight-to-fourteen-year-olds are all together in a room.
This mess hall is loud. Fortunately, this is where Linda’s inability to use a microphone comes in handy. As usual, when she picks it up, the screech echoes through the room, and it signals the kids to be quiet.
“Welcome to Camp Prairie Star!” Linda whoops.
The returning staff and campers respond to her greeting by stomping their feet and shouting. The newbies soon catch on, and it’s absolute pandemonium.
Troy—the assistant director and Linda’s son—lets out an earsplitting whistle, and the crowd quiets again.
“We’re excited for a great week of fun, friendship, and challenging ourselves to reach higher. You’ve already met your counselors and cabinmates. They’re your group for the week as you go through the various activities we have in store for you. Olivia, come on up and tell us more.”
I do a double take when I realize she called me Olivia. I shake it off and walk up front, taking the microphone from Linda.
I go through my whole spiel about the activity schedule and all the fun things we have planned. Then I hand the microphone back to Linda and step out of the way again.
Nina nudges me. “I love the color codes on the schedule you made,” she whispers. “It’s so nice when something boring can become beautiful.”
The compliment hits me right in the feels. “Thanks,” I murmur, warmth spreading through my chest.
As I look out at the group, my eyes find Gage without even meaning to.
He meets my gaze and mouths “Good job,” flashing me a thumbs-up.
I know he’s referring to my stint at the microphone—there’s no way he heard Nina’s comment—but his praise stacks right on top of hers to fortify my bruised confidence.
See, now, something that simple from Gage shouldn’t light up my insides like a floodlight. I have to get these reactions under control if I’m going to work with Gage and be friends with him this summer.
After the welcome meeting with the campers, I need a breather before dinner and the opening campfire.
I walk out onto the main dock, this one larger than the dock by the swimming area where Gage and I looked at the stars that first night.
When I’m all the way at the end, I inhale the fresh air and take in the beautiful lake view in front of me.
It’s interesting how genetics work, even within families. My sisters both loved school—at least the academic parts, if not always the social—and went on to get graduate degrees and work in academic jobs.
I couldn’t be more different.
Though I hated it, I did okay in school, especially once my dyslexia was identified and I started receiving support and accommodations. I did okay enough to go on to graduate college. But I would never get a master’s or doctorate like my sisters.
Their jobs involve working inside a library or a lab, cooped up all day. I don’t know how they do it. Outdoors is where I feel most alive, most like myself. If my body isn’t moving, I get restless. If I don’t start my morning with a run, everything feels off the rest of the day.
It’s probably why I’m so unsettled today. I overslept and nearly missed breakfast, so instead of starting my morning with movement, I started my morning a little stressed out. I can probably get in a quick run in between dinner and the opening campfire tonight, and then I’m sure I’ll feel better.
I’ll feel less like I’m falling back under Gage’s spell, and more like I can exercise some self-control and keep us in the friendship zone.
Leaving the serenity of the dock, I duck into the boathouse on my way past, triple checking that everything looks in order for the campers tomorrow.
The boathouse is a wooden structure built onto the main dock. It’s not much larger than a walk-in closet but works to hold the life jackets and paddles campers need to take the boats on the water. The canoes and kayaks themselves are lined up on the shore on either side of the dock.
My phone vibrates, and I glance at the screen to see Annie video calling me.
“Hey!” I answer, holding my phone in front of me as I walk back to my cabin. On the screen, Annie stands in her bedroom, discarded clothes visible in the background piled on her bed. “What’s going on?”
“I have a date tonight, and I need your opinion on outfits.”
“Ooh, a date! Who’s the guy?” Focusing on my best friend’s love life for a few minutes sounds like a great distraction.
Annie and her long-term boyfriend broke up in February. I wasn’t a big fan of Spencer, but it’s shaken Annie’s confidence enough that she’s dated very little since. I’m glad she’s going on a date, and that she seems excited about it.
Even over the phone, I see Annie’s blush. “Someone I met at the office. Tanner.”
I frown. “Coworker or client?”
Annie is the office manager at a midsize law firm that specializes in divorces, though ironically her real passion is writing romance novels. If her date is a client, it most likely means he’s soon-to-be or recently divorced.
“Neither. We had to hire a cybersecurity company to come in and evaluate our online security for the website and intranet. Tanner was one of the consultants.”
A breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh, that’s great. Cybersecurity consultant sounds like a cool job.”
Annie props a hand on her hip. “Delaney,” she says in a warning voice.
“What?” I smirk at her. One of my running jokes about Spencer is that he has the most boring job on the planet.
He’s an actuary and was always talking about “loss reserving” and “stochastic modeling.” Actually, I’m sure risk assessment can be a very interesting job; it was the man himself who was duller than a drawer of manila file folders.
“Spencer was not boring. He was reliable and steady.”
I reach my cabin and push open the creaky screen door. “He wasn’t right for you. A guy doesn’t have to be boring to be reliable.”
Annie, with her hand still on her hip, narrows her eyes. “Oh and you know this from all your successful long-term relationships?”
Okay, fair. But still, rude to bring it up. The truth is I’ve never liked a guy enough to have a serious relationship with him. Well, other than Gage, that is. I always kind of told myself that I’d take a relationship seriously when I found a guy I liked more than Gage. It hasn’t happened.
I groan. “Let me see the outfits. After that crack, you’ll be lucky if I don’t pick the ugliest one.”
The first week of camp speeds by. Weirdly, the kids and even other staff keep calling me Olivia, even though I definitely introduce myself as Delaney. I correct each person the first few times, but it becomes so frequent that I start letting it go. I don’t know where they’re getting it from.
Monday is all about helping the kids get comfortable with being at camp. I walk each group through how to safely use the boats and help Rocky squirt a half-vinegar, half–rubbing alcohol solution from a baby bottle into the kids’ ears to prevent swimmer’s ear when they get out of the lake.
Tuesday, I make my rounds to check on Nina in the craft cabin in between water sports groups. She has a group of eight-year-old girls making friendship bracelets with tiny rubber bands and beads in a rainbow of colors.
Wednesday is “wacky Wednesday,” and the kids and staff are encouraged to wear our craziest outfit combinations as we eat breakfast for dinner and make up new, chaotic rules for the games we play.
Thursday is color wars day. The campers are divided into two teams: purple and green.
They compete in a series of challenges, earning points for their team to see who the final winner will be.
There’s tug-of-war and water Olympics, which I’m in charge of and includes a fire brigade relay and water balloon toss.
In the afternoon, there’s a massive game of capture the flag that includes the cabin counselors, where the winning team has a chance to double their point total from the morning’s events.
Friday is the final day of camp, culminating in Skit Night, where the campers’ families arrive for a bonfire and show.
The kids sing camp songs and perform the skits they’ve written about their week at camp while stuffing themselves with s’mores.
Skit Night wraps up around six, and the kids check out and leave with their families to go home.
And through it all, I really only see Gage in passing, like when he brings his campers to the lake for swimming or boating.
At first, it’s a relief. I’m grateful for the space so I can get my head straight and go through all the reasons Gage and I being together is a bad idea. Reasons that are really hard to remember when I’m with him.
But after a few days, I begin living for the glimpses of him I get across the mess hall.
When I know it’s time for his campers to have free swim in the lake or go out in the canoes, I notice I’m on edge, jittery until I see him marching toward me, black Longhorns cap on backward as he leads the way for his kids.
When he greets me with that sunshiny smile, I like to imagine there’s a little something extra in his expression reserved for me.
And when his hand brushes mine softly, maybe it’s intentional and sends the same shiver across his skin as it does mine.
Like he’s also spent the day looking forward to this small interaction.
Like it’s the highlight of his day, like it is for me.