Say You Still Love Me(40)

“Nice. She’s Miss Sunoco in my head. And, well . . . yeah.”

Kyle shoves another tub aside. “I know you’re not like Olivia. She goes out of her way to make it sound like her family is rolling in dough and rub people’s noses in it. Meanwhile, here you are, going out of your way to pretend you’re just like the rest of us.”

“I am just like everyone else here!” Except with an enormous trust fund.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking, when I first saw you,” he murmurs as he peeks in a blue tub full of paint bottles and brushes.

“So . . . what were you thinking?” I dare ask, avoiding his gaze as I pry a lid off a green tub to discover knitting needles. My stomach clenches with anticipation of his answer.

Kyle shifts to stand behind me, his body oh so close but not touching me. “Well, I definitely was not thinking that you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“No?” I smile as a warm shiver runs down my spine.

“No way.” He leans in, until his mouth is next to my ear. “And that first night by the campfire, there’s no way I was wondering what it’d be like to kiss you.” His hands settle gently on either side of my waist, as his lips skate over my cheek. “And last night? When I was falling asleep? I definitely wasn’t thinking about you at all.”

My breathing has turned ragged.

Voices carry near the doorway then, reminding us that we’re not alone.

Kyle releases his gentle grip of my body and slides around to face me, but not without a distinctive sigh of frustration. “I’ll take this one out. It’s heavier.”

“I can handle it.” Spiking tennis balls across courts since I was eight has guaranteed me slender but strong arms. To prove my point, I lift the tub. It’s awkward but manageable.

His fingers slide over mine, weaving their way through to grasp the handles, his hands warm and strong. His gaze drops to my mouth, and I hold my breath, hoping he’ll lean in and kiss me. “You’re coming out tonight after lights-out, right? It’s a full moon. We’re going up to the cliff.”

“To jump?”

“Don’t know yet. If it’s bright enough, yeah.”

A tiny thrill swirls inside at his insistence. “If I can get away. Avery said Christa’s going to be a problem.”

“Whatever. You heard Darian at orientation. As long as we’re not being idiots, she doesn’t care.”

I wonder if she’d think jumping off a thirty-foot cliff—at night—would qualify as being an idiot.

“Please?” he whispers, leaning in farther, until his mouth is a mere inch from mine, so close that I sense rather than see his smile, his breath kissing my skin.

He must be able to hear my heart pounding.

Finally . . . finally . . . he presses his lips against mine in a sweet, slow kiss.

“Did you guys see the other tub of paint in here?” Christa’s sudden voice at the doorway makes me jump.

I silently curse her as Kyle takes a step back, weaseling the tub from my grip. “The orange one in the corner.” With a wink my way, he saunters out of the supply room, leaving me light-headed.

“There’s no PDA in front of campers,” Christa scolds.

I grab the last container. “Do you see any campers here?” I throw back over my shoulder as I hurry out, not giving her a chance to get the last word in.




Through the small window beside our bunk, I spy two tall figures trudging along the path. Is one of them Kyle? We agreed to meet by the fork in the path toward the girls’ cabins at ten. That was almost half an hour ago.

He’s probably gone already.

I pull my weary body to a sitting position and pause a moment, to listen to ten little girls, breathing deeply. Kyle was right; tonight was nothing like last night’s horrors. After a full day of sun and heat and excitement, the kids curled into their sleeping bags and didn’t utter a sound. At one point I thought I’d have to carry Izzy from the campfire to bed, her tiny body melting with exhaustion into mine.

Below me, Christa is quiet as well, having finally tucked away her book and shut her flashlight ten minutes ago. I know because I’ve timed it, and it’s been the longest ten minutes of my life.

It’s now or never.

With a stir in my stomach, I ease myself down the ladder and grab my hoodie and my bathing suit from my hook.

“Where are you going?” comes Christa’s rushed whisper the moment my hand touches the door handle.

I stifle my curse. “Restroom,” I lie, and duck out. I’m ten steps away when I hear her footfalls on the gravel pathway behind me.

“You can’t just take off like that and not tell me.”

I roll my eyes before turning to face her. She’s standing just outside the cabin door, arms crossed, pajamas rumpled, her jaw set with hard determination. My guess is she’s been lying in wait, knowing what I was planning and determined to foil it.

“I don’t care if no one likes me because I follow the rules. We’re here to take care of the kids, not get drunk and fool around.”

“Who’s getting drunk? I’m meeting up with Ashley and a few others. I’ll be back soon.” It’s not entirely a lie, as Ashley said she’d come out.

“And what if one of our kids has to go to the bathroom?”