Olivia
Chapter twenty-three
Ihope you come to find out that what you want is me.
The memory of Gage’s words are a heavy brick in my stomach, causing me to pick at my breakfast the next morning. I’m not entirely sure he meant for me to hear him, but I did, before I fell asleep with his arms around me.
Oh, Gage, I think. Wanting you is not the problem. Wanting you has never been the problem.
The problem is that I’m playing fast and loose with both our hearts. The problem is that I should end things now before the feelings get any more real.
I’ll break my own heart. That’s fine. The pain will be worth it for any of Gage’s time, touches, and kisses now. But if he’s falling for me somehow—against his better judgment, surely—how can I hurt him when I have to walk away for his own good?
After eating—or not eating, in my case—the free breakfast at the hotel, we pile into Brynn’s car to drive back to Camp Prairie Star.
Considering their rendezvous last night, I expect Brynn and Matt to be all over each other this morning, but there’s even more tension between them than between me and Gage, and not the good kind of tension.
Maybe last night didn’t go well? Either way, Matt folds himself into the back seat with Gage, leaving the front passenger seat for me.
Gage and I didn’t have a chance to talk this morning. We overslept and then rushed to get ready to go before breakfast. Apparently, we won’t have the chance to talk at all on this drive back to camp either.
Nobody talks on the drive. The entire two-and-a-half-hour trip is awkwardly silent except for Matt’s light snoring from the back seat. From time to time, I glance back at Gage, but he’s always facing away from me, toward the window. I can’t tell if his eyes are open or closed.
I’m sure he thinks I’m mad at him, but I’m not. If I’m mad at anyone, it’s at myself. Mostly I’m scared. I’m afraid I’ve gotten myself into something my heart won’t survive, and worse, that I’ll bring Gage down with me.
We finally make it back to camp, and we all grab our bags from the trunk and head in our separate directions to prepare for the campers’ arrival in a couple of hours.
I start down the path to my cabin, relieved to put off any type of conversation with Gage. But it’s short-lived.
“Olivia,” Gage calls behind me, pulling on my hand.
I stop walking and face him.
“Are you okay? You’ve been really quiet this morning. Are you still mad at me from last night? I didn’t have anything to do with getting kicked out of my room, I swear.”
“No, I know. I’m not mad. I’m … thinking.”
Gage tilts his head. “About what?”
“About whether this”—I motion between us—“is a good idea after all.”
Gage’s eyes widen slightly. “Why wouldn’t it be? I shouldn’t have pressured you last night. This can be whatever you want it to be.”
I sigh and shake my head. “I just…” I trail off, watching carefully for his reaction. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
I don’t want you to get hurt.
“Hey,” he says softly, “I get that.”
Then, he smirks. “But are you really saying that you want to watch all of this”—he gestures up and down his body—“this summer and not be able to touch?”
I roll my eyes, frustrated that he’s not taking the conversation seriously. “Ugh, Gage, come on.” Although, the man makes a good point. “We have so much history,” I continue. “Can you really say you can keep feelings out of this?”
He shifts his eyes to the ground and shrugs. “I mean, yeah. You?”
My head and my heart scream No! It’s already too late. I’m as gone for Gage as I was in high school. But if the alternative is not having him at all, am I willing to give this up and still see him every day? Especially when he insists he won’t catch feelings?
“Yeah,” I answer, inspecting my fingernails so I don’t have to look at him while I lie.
“Okay then, problem solved.” Gage nods. “I've got to go get ready for my campers to arrive, but I'll see you later, yeah?”
“Yeah, of course. See you later.”
He turns around and ambles toward his cabin, while I’m left reeling from our interaction.
I rub the side of my fist against my forehead. I feel so jumbled up inside.
On the one hand, it hurts to hear Gage say that he can keep feelings out of a physical relationship with me, because how? But on the other hand, isn’t that what I want? Isn’t that what I’m insisting on?
The chaos of another week of wrangling campers keeps me occupied long enough that my uncertainty about my fling with Gage rearranges into missing him.
I see him throughout the week, of course, but as usual it’s brief glimpses across the campfire or in passing while he’s leading a group of rowdy ten-year-old boys.
I’m impatient to spend time with him, to relax against his chest, and joke with him. I’m greedy for the opportunity to hear more of his deepest thoughts and feelings.
Finally, it’s Skit Night on Friday before the parents take their kids home. None of the groups asked me to perform with them this week—which is fine with me—so I’m sitting in the back enjoying the show.
Gage’s group of boys stand to deliver their skit, the junior counselor Jayden with them. I dart my eyes around for Gage, but I don’t see him. Maybe he wasn’t invited to perform this week either.
The skit starts with one boy loudly reading from his notes about how there once was a camp counselor with a case of the “sadsies.” When he says “sadsies” all the other kids make exaggerated pout faces and loud wailing noises.
Then Gage walks on “stage” with a similarly over-the-top pout, his puppy dog eyes wide and pitiful.
“The counselor was so sad that all the kids called him Mr. Sadsie, which made him even sadder. And nobody knew why he was sad because he wouldn’t tell and maybe he didn’t really remember anyway.”
Again, the rest of the boys pout and wail, adding emphasis to the action like a Greek chorus.
“Then one day Mr. Sadsie decided to go on a quest to see if anyone knew why he was so sad.”
Gage starts wandering among the rows of spectators, his face still reflecting that melodramatic sad expression.
“Mr. Sadsie saw lots of people and wanted to talk to them to find out why he was so sad.”
Gage sits down next to various people in the audience, leaning toward them with his sad face. They laugh or smile uncomfortably until Gage moves on.
“But no one would ask him what’s wrong.”
Impossibly, Gage’s face turns even sadder, and he hangs his head.
“He decides to try one more time.”
My pulse speeds up when Gage makes a beeline for the back of the audience. He stops at the end of my row, which is mostly empty, and sits on the bench. He slides slowly down the bench until he’s right next to me.
With everyone in the audience watching us to see what will happen next, he drops his head on my shoulder and sighs loudly.
Maybe I will be performing today, although I don’t know what role I’m supposed to play.
Gage lifts his head again, sidles even closer to me, and then lays his head back on my shoulder. He sighs dramatically.
“Ask me what’s wrong,” Gage instructs quietly out of the corner of his mouth.
“Oh! Um, okay.” Then loudly, I ask, “What’s wrong, good sir?”
The narrator continues. “Finally, someone wants to hear about Mr. Sadsie’s problems, and all of a sudden he remembers!"
“Now I remember!” Gage says emphatically. “I’m feeling so sad because I’m not really a camp counselor at all. I’m a prince, and I was supposed to marry a princess, but I can’t find her anymore. Fair maiden!” He addresses me. “Will you be my princess so I can be happy again?”
Gage gives me a subtle nod, so I know how to answer. “Um, of course I will, stranger I’ve never met before. What could go wrong?”
The audience laughs.
“Nice ad-libbing,” Gage whispers.
“That day, Mr. Sadsie became Prince Happy, and his frown turned upside down,” the narrator finishes while Gage switches his expression to a wide, toothy grin.
The boys making up the chorus cheer wildly, matching Gage’s ecstatic face.
“The end.”
Everyone claps, and the kids take a bow before going back to their seats. Gage stays in the spot next to me, still scooted over as close to me as he can be.
“That was weird,” I whisper to Gage once the next group of campers take the stage. “What was supposed to be the point of that skit?”
Gage chuckles. “No idea. It came from the brains of a bunch of ten-year-old boys. We’re lucky it wasn’t weirder.
You should have heard all the unhinged ideas I nixed.
Not to mention the fart jokes.” He’s quiet for a moment.
“They said I was acting sad all week, and that was the inspiration for the skit.”
I frown. “Were you?” I ask. “Sad all week?”
Gage slides his eyes over to look at me. “Maybe a little.”
“Why?”
“I missed you.” He twists his face back into the exaggerated Mr. Sadsie expression.
I chuckle. “We saw each other around. There was no need to miss me,” I say, even though I felt exactly the same way, like I couldn’t wait to be in the same room with him without hundreds of kids surrounding us.
This week was no different from the seven others we’ve spent with the campers so far this summer, as far as needing to keep our distance from each other, but it felt different.
I felt unsettled after our falling out last weekend, not sure where we stood, even after the brief conversation we had when we got back to camp on Sunday.
“Are we hanging out again this weekend?” Gage asks, his eyes reflecting the same vague anxiety I’ve been feeling all week.
My eyes water, and I blink back the tears before I answer. “Yes, please.”
His relief is palpable in the way he relaxes his shoulders and slides an arm around my waist. “Okay, good. I have something I need to talk to you about.” I tense. “Not about anything we talked about last weekend,” he says quickly. “Not really. But it is time sensitive.”
I relax against him again. “It’s been kind of a stressful week,” I say. “Can we talk tomorrow? Maybe while canoeing?”
He kisses the top of my head. “Yeah, that sounds good. What do you want to do tonight, then?”
I tilt my face toward him and grin. “Not talk.”
I need the uncomplicated surge of gratification that comes with losing myself in Gage and his kisses. I’m self-aware enough to recognize that I’m using our physical relationship as a distraction from focusing on the emotional connection, but I can’t bring myself to care at the moment.
Gage returns my smile, pulling me closer to him on the bench. “As you wish, my princess.”