camp cherry three | hs

six

cannot believe taylor just dropped evermore like that out of nowhere

insanity truly

✩︎

HANA

Eventually, I manage to drag myself out of the relative security of my new cabin and explore the remainder of the camp and, hopefully, visit the nearby town to purchase some more specific, fulfilling groceries; all I've been eating since I arrived three days ago is buttery toast or pasta.

Thankfully, Amy appears to be keeping her distance. I don't see much of her, but when I do occasionally spot her, it's usually travelling from the car park to the main house and back. Harry seems to have finally shaken off his preconceptions of my anxiety regarding working by him and is staying pretty civil - neutral, chatting to me when necessary and seeming a little more open in general.

My first time visiting the newly established store in town is rather confusing; I'd only visited a few times when requiring something that I couldn't get at the smaller one closer to the camp, and they've apparently reorganised their entire layout since then. Focused heavily on the expiration date of the mangoes in my palm, I'm startled by a tall figure accidentally bumping into my shoulder, "oh, I'm sorry."

"No, don't be, it was me not looking," at their full acceptance of responsibility, I glance up, momentarily surprised by their height now that I'm paying attention, "I'm sorry," he repeats, bending down to retrieve the fruit I hadn't even realised I'd dropped.

Flustered, I attempt to help, thankful for his assistance. Holding out my hand, I truly hope I'm not humiliating myself, "Hana."

He smiles, shaking my hand and setting the few mangoes in a separate section of my cart, "Arjun," he hesitates somewhat awkwardly, turning back to me brightly, "sorry if this... unprovoked, but could I get your number?"

Although it takes me a moment to process, I find myself nodding absently in response, "yes, of course," and I retrieve a tattered notebook from my purse, tearing out a page, "oh, do you have a pen?"

I feel a little flushed; this type of thing certainly doesn't happen to me, especially not with men as attractive as Arjun. He fishes a pen out of his pocket keenly, "sorry again for bumping into you."

Jotting down my phone number and name, I fold the slip in half and return it along with his pen, offering a lively smile, "it's okay. It was nice to meet you."

Distracted by glancing down at the paper as I begin walking away in an attempt to remain collected, he stumbles, "yeah, you too! I'll call you!"

Waving with a silent mouth of bye, I hope I'm completely out of his vision when I turn the corner into the next aisle and smack my palm against my forehead, unable to believe that I actually just navigated my way through that. I feel frozen, and the idea of completing my weekly shopping (which is what I'm planning, at least) is entirely forgotten.

Thankfully, I don't run into him again during the rest of my hurried shopping, - that's always the most awkward thing about seeing someone you know in stores, they seem to pop up everywhere - and head home, reasonably happy with my productivity and the fact I'll finally be able to eat something other than basic carbs. Somewhat, I'm glad that Arjun has my number; the power is in his hands if he'd like to continue this potential connection, but he's also the one who has to find the courage to reach out first and decide what type of atmosphere his first message should send.

Considering his bold request earlier, I'm anticipating an equally optimistic approach in his first contact - this is all on the premise he'll actually bother to remember, of course.