Three: Sorry, I Wasn't Expecting You To Be Hot
When I finally reach Forte Cabin, there are actually beads of sweat on my forehead.
I'm not joking. Seriously, when you're standing under the entrance sign, looking out on the whole camp, the distance doesn't seem so great. But when you're walking it, on your own, with completely inappropriate shoes (note to self: sandals and hiking... not the best mix), and dragging what feels like a two ton case behind you...
I beg to differ.
Luckily, my cabin happens to be one of the first in the block, and doesn't require too much walking to get to. (Well, that's if you don't count the twenty mile trail beforehand...)
I can spot it easily, despite the fact that the banner on the door has been ripped in half and now reads only 'Fort'. Just as I am debating whether to turn round and sprint back home (despite the 150 miles between my current location and our house), my train of thought is interrupted by the sound of a high pitched scream, originating from... guess where?
Forte Cabin.
I love my life.
Seriously, I bet Jenny planned all of this. It's probably some initiation ceremony that they force new counselors through, just to have a laugh at them. It's likely that I'm being filmed right now, recorded on a tape that Jenny and all her camp cronies will joke about in the staff room. It's all Jenny's fault.
Calm down, Bailey. I know I'm just getting pissed about the fact that I've had to switch cabins. Unfortunately, I am the unfortunate sufferer of an extreme case of pessimism, which has only been made worse by the fact I've been stuck with probably the most unruly boys in the entire camp.
Well, let's face it, there's not a lot to be optimistic about right now, is there?
I drag my case up the couple of stairs, stopping in front of the door to allow myself a moment to prepare me mentally for the emotional trauma about to come.
However, you know me, and nothing I ever do goes exactly to plan. Suddenly, the door flies open and before I am even aware of it, I am being bowled over by four small bodies, and ending up sprawled on the wooden floor in a completely uncomfortable and unflattering position.
"What the...?" My voice trails off when my brain furiously reminds me that there are kids around.
The boys, who have recovered from the collision in record time, continue their screaming and jump down onto the grass below, aiming their fully loaded water pistols at each other as they do so. The volume of their voices shoots upwards as a stream of water shoots out of the end of one of the pistols, and collides with the body of another boy.
"Guys! Guys! Cease fire!" Another voice sounds from inside the cabin, as another guy comes rushing out of the door at full sprinting speed. A part of me wonders if it's another of the kids, but the tone sounds too deep for it to belong to one of them.
Unfortunately, it doesn't occur to him that I am still in close contact with the floor, and his foot collides with the side of my body. This, in turn, sends him tripping over, until I feel a weight slam down on my body. Yep – you guessed it. He fell on me.
An unusual sounding groan escapes my lips as the force of him landing on top of me squeezes the air out of my lungs. My head has collided with the floor for a second time, causing a pounding sensation to spread through it.
"Sorry!"
My head jerks to the source of the voice, and the person pulls themselves effortlessly into a standing position, with more grace than I could ever dream of. "I'm sorry – I didn't see you there!"
"It's fine," I say, using the nearby wooden rail to heave myself upwards. "I'm okay."
Aside from the pounding in my head as a result of the impact, that is.
My eyes move upwards and as my gaze locks onto that of the stranger's, I have to stop myself from inhaling sharply. Okay... wow. I was not expecting that.
Because the person in front of me is probably the hottest guy I've ever seen in my life.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. His tone holds an amused underside, and I'm not completely sure why. "I did kind of just fall on you."
"Uh..." I jolt out of my daydream (which may just involve me making out with him) just in time to realize that I am standing there like an idiot. No surprises there, then. "Y-yeah. I'm okay."
Oh my God oh my God oh my God.
Seriously, who is this guy? He is way too attractive to be working at some summer camp for kids. Shouldn't he be working as an Abercrombie and Fitch model, or something? Just one look at him and I am already drowning in his azure colored eyes.
Bailey, get a grip.
I can't believe I'm standing here, having a conversation with the best looking guy I've ever met, and I'm thinking about the pigment of his irises. I've read way too many romance novels.
Although, who could blame me? With such an uninteresting life and absolutely zero experience with the opposite sex whatsoever, romance novels are my calling. I'm not even kidding on that one.
"I'm Blake," the guy says, obviously hinting for me to introduce myself.
"Bailey." I internally congratulate myself on making it through a word without stuttering or saying something stupid. "I'm, uh... the new counselor."
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. I swear I'm having some kind of internal panic attack, if that's even possible. My heart's beating practically one thousand times a minute and the way his slightly amused gaze locks onto mine is only increasing my jitters.
"Oh, great." A smile stretches across his perfectly chiseled features. "Yeah, I've just been watching the kids until you arrived." He nods towards the full blown water fight which is taking place on the lawn in front of the cabin. "Lively bunch, these. They'll keep you occupied."
"Oh, um, yeah..."
"I'm not gonna lie to you, Forte's not one of the best cabins. It's got kind of a reputation, actually. But maybe you'll be the one to turn that around."
"Mm... maybe."
"Is this your first time as a counselor?"
A small nod serves as my response. Wait, how many nods qualifies as normal? Shut up, brain!
"Well, good luck. I've got Rhythm Cabin – it's just across there." His hand waves in a vague direction, leaving me none the wiser to the location he was trying to indicate. He grins at me. "Do you want me to show you the cabin?"
"Sure," I respond, trying my best not to sound overenthusiastic. Even with my lack of experience, I know that acting too eager is a big no-no.
"Cool it off, guys!" he shouts to the boys out the front, who are now all drenched from head to toe, and have resorted to shoving each other. "Stick to the pistols, okay?"
The kids stop what they are doing immediately. How does he get them to do that? Even though I haven't spoken to them yet, it is pretty obvious that they won't be so well-behaved with me. "Okay, Blake..." they mumble, in a way that actually makes them sound kind of cute.
Although I'm sure my opinion will change when I've been dealing with their hyperactivity for six weeks.
Blake motions for me to follow him, and I continue to drag my case inside the cabin. Inside, the place is fairly small, but in a cozy sort of way. The wood paneled walls offer an authentic rustic feel, and there are six beds dotted around the room, all still neatly made. Various cases are dumped on the beds, obviously abandoned in favor of the water fight outside. The walls displays varying group photographs of Forte Cabin throughout the years, and certificates brandishing their past successes. A fan spins on the ceiling, blowing even amounts of cool air through the cabin.
Blake heads towards a door on the opposite site of the room, and I hasten after him. He pushes open the wooden door, which swings open to reveal a smaller room with a plain single bed, dresser and adjoining bathroom. "This is your room," he informs me. "Don't let the boys in here. They'll wreck it."
"Right," I say. "I'll keep that in mind."
I leave my case in the room and follow him back out into the main cabin area. He stops in the middle of the room, glancing around as if inspecting it. "Huh. Not as big as Rhythm." Grinning, he turns to me. "I've been Rhythm's counselor for three years now. And every year we've won the Camp Challenge Cup."
I have no idea what the Camp Challenge Cup is, so I just nod like I understand what the hell he's talking about. He pulls open the door and wanders back out onto the cabin porch, me following closely behind.
"So... maybe I'll see you at dinner," he says coolly, slipping his hands into his jean pockets. Even such a casual action on his behalf makes my heart flutter uncontrollably. Wow, I need to get a grip.
"Yeah," I manage to force out. "At six, right?"
He nods. "They should have pretty good food tonight, seeing as it's the first day of camp. It's kind of like a welcome back tradition, or something."
"Sounds good." I curse myself for not being able to make conversation freely. My short answers resemble a robot, I swear. However, it's kind of hard to concentrate when every time Blake looks at me I feel like I'm neck deep in the pool of dark blue water also known as his eyes.
It is only then that I notice the boys who had previously been using the water pistols are no longer battling each other on the lawn. Where have they got to? I can't help being paranoid that they're going to appear round the corner, spraying me with a stream of cold water that will inevitably make my hair frizzy and my shirt transparent (not a good look, especially in front of the hottest guy I've ever met).
Blake flips his head back, removing a couple of strands of golden blonde hair from his line of sight, in an action that makes me want to melt. "I better get back to my own cabin. My guys will be wondering where I've got to."
"See you later."
"Not if I see you first."
I roll my eyes at his cheesy comeback. I am about to respond when the first syllable of my speech is cut off by the sound of screaming. The cabin door flies open, and one of the boys (whom I suddenly recognize as Jake – oh the joy) runs out of the door, cutting through the distance between Blake and I.
I am about to ask what he is doing, but I am frozen to the spot when I realize what he's wearing on his head – and carrying in his arms.
Yes, Jake has chosen this exact moment to empty the contents of my case.
And is now wearing a pair of my panties on his head.
"Jake!" I shout at him, already feeling the flaming heat rising to my cheeks. I can't even bring myself to look at Blake, for I know that I will die of mortification. I tear down the stairs of the porch and sprint after him. "Give those back!"
"No way!" he screams, quickening his pace. How can an eight year old run so fast? Seriously, I've only been running for about ten seconds and already a painful stitch is forming in my side. As he passes the porch, where an amused looking Blake is standing, he throws an armful of my clothing – undergarments included – onto the decking.
As he tears past the cabin and heads towards the back, I decide that it's not worth following him. Even if I do have to sacrifice a pair of my panties in the process. Trying to calm my flaming cheeks, I turn back to Blake, who is not even bothering to hide the amused smirk spreading across his face.
"I told you they were a handful," he comments casually. "And by the way..." He leans over to the side, grabbing something off the side of the railing, and holding it out to me. "I think this belongs to you."
My pink, spotty (much needed) push up bra.
I snatch it from him immediately, shoving it behind my back as if this will reduce my embarrassment.
Unsurprisingly, it doesn't.
Blake turns to leave, but the smirk is still present on his face. As he starts off down the steps, his head turns and his eyes make contact with mine.
"32B, huh?"
A glimmer of mischief crosses his eyes just as he turns back around and continues walking, without saying another word. I am left standing on the porch of the cabin, welling in my own mortification.