Gage
Chapter twenty-seven
I’m awake by six on Saturday morning, so I try to alleviate my nervous energy with a run. I’ve been so busy this summer at camp that I’ve traded my runs and sessions in the weight room for chasing campers around on nature hikes. I’m staying active, but in a different way than my body’s used to.
The burn in my legs and lungs feels good, and I find that I’m calmer when I’m done. I shower and get dressed with time to spare before meeting Olivia for breakfast.
When I see her, she smiles sleepily behind her coffee mug. “You look chipper this morning.”
I grin and sit on the bench next to her. “Chipper?”
“Yeah, you know, animated, bright, alert?” She nudges me with her shoulder.
Chuckling, I nudge her back. “I know what it means. It’s just not a term I hear people say often.”
“Do you want to do the activity I planned, or not?” Olivia huffs, feigning annoyance.
“I definitely do. I swear I’ll be good and keep the teasing to a minimum.” I hold up three fingers side by side. “Scout’s honor.”
She smirks and shakes her head. “You’re not a scout.”
I put on my most earnest expression. “For you, I could be,” I tell her with a straight face.
“Shut up!” Olivia laughs and shoves my chest. “Finish eating so we can go.”
Twenty minutes later, Olivia practically drags me across camp to the craft cabin.
“Are we doing crafts?” I ask. Not my strong suit, but we’ll make it fun.
“Sort of.” Her eyes twinkle as she holds back a smile. “Nina gave me permission to use some of the craft materials for a special project.”
Olivia leads me by the hand through the door of the craft cabin, the screen door screeching and slamming in the way I’ve gotten used to this summer.
She gestures to a table piled with zip-top sandwich bags each filled with a different color.
I squint to look more closely. Little rubber bands that remind me of the ones the orthodontist used to put on my teeth.
My forehead furrows. “We’re going to … adjust our braces?”
Olivia giggles and squeezes my hand. “No! We’re going to make friendship bracelets. For each other.”
My eyes snap to hers, and though she holds the contact, uncertainty flashes across her face. She swallows and presses her lips together in a tight smile.
Am I reading too much into this? Exchanging jewelry—even camp-craft bracelets made out of rubber bands—feels romantic, like a promise. Like a commitment we’ll still see each other after the summer ends.
I play it cool, though. Olivia spooks easily.
I stretch my lips into an easy grin. “Taylor Swift style?”
Her shoulders relax, as if she’s been holding them taut and has now finally released the tension in her muscles. She breathes out a shaky laugh. “Similar, but we’re going to use rubber bands instead of jewelry elastic. We can still use beads though.”
I let go of her hand to rub mine together. “Let’s do it!”
She beams, bolstered by my enthusiasm. “Have you ever made a loom bracelet before?” she asks.
I purse my lips, tilting my head at her.
She laughs. “Well, I don’t know! You could have been up to anything the last five years.”
“I have not been making bracelets out of rubber bands,” I tell her.
Olivia gestures for me to sit down at the table. When I do, she sits next to me and picks through the pile of baggies until she finds what she wants.
“We’re going to make double-band fishtail-patterned bracelets,” she explains. “You choose two or three colors, depending on how you want the final design to look.”
She opens a bag of light blue rubber bands and another bag of a bold yellow color.
She holds up two fingers and stretches a blue band between them, with a twist in the middle.
Then she adds a yellow band, with no twist. She adds a third band, no twist, and then flips the first blue band up somehow so that it bunches in the middle of the other two.
I squint my eyes. “Wait, wait. What did you do?”
Olivia smirks and slides the rubber bands off her fingers. “I’ll show you on your fingers. What colors do you want?”
I consider. “Are these my for-real colors, or to practice?”
She shrugs. “It could be your final bracelet if it goes well.”
“Okay, then. Give me a minute.”
I shift the baggies around on the table to examine my options, and there are a lot of options. Some of the rubber bands are neon, some pastel, and some even have designs on them with multiple colors on one band.
I stop short when I see a baggie filled with the perfect rubber bands. Before I reach for it, though, I shoot a glance at Olivia, who’s watching me.
I divert my hand to a bag of purple bands and then add in a bag of white ones. “This is going to be my practice bracelet,” I tell Olivia. “The real one is going to be a surprise.”
She chuckles. “Okay, weirdo.” She adjusts my hand so that two of my fingers are pointing up.
She walks through the instructions for starting a bracelet again, this time using my fingers to demonstrate.
She leans in close to manipulate the small rubber bands—so close that her shoulder rests against my chest and her hair brushes against my nose.
I inhale quietly and am rewarded with the sharp, minty smell of her shampoo.
“Got it?” Olivia asks, turning her head toward me so that our faces are inches apart.
Oh, right. I was supposed to be paying attention to the bracelet-making instructions. “Umm. Maybe you could show me one more time?”
She sighs, her breath tickling my lips. If I slant forward a bit…
“Gage!” Olivia laughs, angling farther away. “Focus.”
“I am focusing,” I mutter as I bring my hand up to her ponytail and run my fingers through her hair.
She scowls, narrowing her eyes and jutting her bottom lip toward me. “I mean on the bracelet.”
I zero in on her lips. “Mm-hmm,” I say, before closing the distance between us. She’s not frowning anymore as I kiss her in that languid, gentle way I’ve discovered she loves.
Of all the things I’ve learned about Olivia this summer, after knowing her so intently in our growing-up years, I value knowing these privileged details about her the most. I want to know everything about the way her hands wander while she kisses me, from my shoulders to my back and up to my neck and face.
Everything about the soft, uncontrolled sounds she makes when my hand is in her hair.
Everything about how her eyelashes flutter as she closes her eyes and loses herself to me.
We eventually get back on task making the bracelets, and I stay turned away from Olivia so the design I picked for hers will be a surprise.
We work in cozy parallel, on separate projects but together in the space we’re taking up and the air we’re breathing. When I finally get serious, the bracelet is easy to make, even when I add in beads for extra flair.
It doesn’t take long before we’re ready to unveil our creations. Olivia goes first. She pulls the bracelet from behind her back.
“The blue is for your eyes, obviously,” Olivia explains as she points out the features she’s included, “and the yellow reminds me of your sunshiny personality. You always make my day brighter, and the way you’re lighting up my life this summer is something I’ll always be grateful for.”
Her eyes sparkle, but the blush on her cheeks tells me it’s an effort for her to be this vulnerable with me. My heart stretches and crackles in my chest. This woman. Doesn’t she know that I’d rather spend every day reliving my worst-ever at bat than leave her?
No, she doesn’t, a voice in my head whispers, because you’re afraid telling her will push her away.
“And I added your name, of course,” she finishes, indicating the white alphabet beads with black lettering that spell out Gage.
I smirk at the irony and give her a one-armed hug, careful to keep her bracelet hidden behind my back. “Thank you, babe. I love it.”
I hold out my wrist, and she immediately fastens the bracelet around it. “Look at that: a perfect fit.” I grin at her.
Olivia bounces in her seat. “My turn!” she chirps, leaning forward to try to peek behind me.
“Drumroll, please,” I tease. She giggles, and I wait. I clear my throat. “Seriously. I need a drumroll.”
She rolls her eyes but raps her fingers against the table for a makeshift drumroll.
I bring my hand forward with a flourish, the bracelet I made for her lying flat against my palm. I used one color—a deep green flecked with silver glitter. Without a color pattern, the woven design of the rubber bands is more apparent, wrapping over and under each other in beautiful synchronicity.
“I’ve always loved seeing you in green.”
I watch her face closely as she delicately lifts the bracelet from my hand and turns it over in her fingers. Her features are soft, her eyes hooded and unblinking as a slow smile spreads across her lips.
She examines the black alphabet beads with silver lettering. “It says Gage,” she points out, her mouth quirking up and a question in her eyes.
So everyone will know you’re mine, I think. Out loud, I say, “So you’ll always think of me when you wear it.”
I take the bracelet from her and slip it onto her wrist, making sure the plastic clasp is secure. I let my touch linger, caressing the soft skin on her arm.
Finally, I lift my head and look at her. I’m half afraid of what I’ll see, nervous that I’m coming on too strong.
But she’s glowing under my gaze, peering at me with a look of wonder and love that echoes what I feel for her.
It’s almost too much to hope for, too much to expect, but I push her even further. “Come to dinner with us tonight.” My voice is low, infused with a confidence born from reckless, optimistic longing.
Her eyebrows pull together. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude on your family time.”
The way she says it sends a surge of warmth through my chest. A family dinner. Maggie and her husband and two kids are clearly a family, and sometimes I struggle to see where Annie and I fit into that. Sometimes I feel like I’m the one intruding.
But Olivia’s simple acceptance of my place in Maggie’s family, like it’s a given that I belong with them, makes it easier for me to accept it, too.
I lean my forehead against hers. “I’m positive. I always want you to be where I am.”