Bookishly Ever After (Ever After #1)(82)

“I have no idea. That’s okay, when you’re a big Bollywood star, you can talk about the mean girl back home who threw mud at you. And did this.” With a nudge from my hip, Dev lost his balance on the bank and landed with a splash flat on his butt on the shallow edge of the creek. The wide-eyed, O-mouthed expression on his face as he hit the water made me curl over with even more hiccup-y laughter.

Dev wiped the back of his hand across his face, spreading a streak of mud across his forehead.

“Oh, now that’s grounds for payback.” Instead of getting up, he swiped a leg under my feet and, with a totally non-Marissa-like screech, I was back in the water and practically on his lap. And while his fall only got him a little wet, I managed to splash another layer of silty mud onto myself.

Scooping up a handful of mud and decayed plant-goo, I scooted closer to him and held it up like a baseball. “You did not just do that. You’re supposed to be the nice counselor.” Even though the water was cold, being this close to him made me feel like I was in a sauna.

Dev bumped my shoulder with his so I had to drop my “weapon” just to keep from getting submerged again. “I like this mud-slinging you. You know, sometimes you make yourself unapproachable. You’re always so deep in your own world that it’s hard to break in.”

I looked up at him and, unbidden, one of Kaylie’s lines straight out of Cradled on the Waves popped out of my mouth.

“Am I unapproachable now?” Oh my God, I did not just say that. It was the mud or the sun or this temporary insanity that dragged me into that book moment.

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly and he swiped some mud under my eyes, warrior-style. But his fingers lingered on my cheek. “Not so much.” He tilted his head closer to mine and I froze. This wasn’t like anything I’ve read about or planned. Still, every single molecule in my body took over, anticipating his movement, and I stretched up to meet him. We were a breath away from each other.

“Oh, there you two are. What happened here?” Mr. Hamm’s voice broke the silence and I jumped away from Dev, scrambling ungracefully onto the creek’s bank. Flames of embarrassment rushed over me and I tried wiping my face with my wet and muddy sleeve.

Dev, looking a lot more composed than I felt, stood, wiped his hands on a dry part of his shirt and turned to face the teacher. “I goaded Phoebe into trying the bridge and, um, she fell in a few times. And then I fell in when I tried to help her.”

Mr. Hamm took in both of our appearances and looked like he was trying not to laugh. “I’m used to seeing a few campers get muddy, but this is a first.”

“And a last. I’m not athletic enough for something like this. I’m sticking with archery.” I was finally steady enough to walk back over to them. I gave Dev a sidelong glance. He didn’t seem flustered at all. Maybe I had just imagined the whole moment between us.

“Good idea. How about you go get cleaned up and I’ll get one of the other counselors to help Dev with your table until you get back?” Mr. Hamm frowned at Dev. “You’re not too much of a mess.”

Dev tugged at his polo. The meshaped mud was drying and flaking at the edges. “Sure. I’ll grab a fresh shirt and jeans on the way over.” He nodded at me. “See you in a few, Feebs.”

After the two left, I turned and headed for my cabin and the communal camp showers, turning the last few moments over and over in my head. Maybe all of these books full of fictional romances were starting to get to me. Dev was probably just joking around, like he did with all of his friends.

That still didn’t make the goose bumps on my skin go away, or the ghost of his touch on my cheek. I shuffled my way to the showers. I needed to wash away the memory with the mud. Not even bothering to strip off my muddy clothes or sneakers, I stuck myself under the running water.





48


Lunch was half over by the time I reached the mess hall. I grabbed a hobo hamburger and that watered-down stuff we called bug juice and made my way over to our long table, acutely conscious of how I looked. No spare shoes meant that I had to wear my flip-flops until my sneakers dried, oh-so-fashionable with a pair of striped toe socks. My hair dripped down my back, the drying pieces starting to stand out halo-like around my head. And my shorts stood out in a mess hall full of jeans. Grace would have had a heart attack if she saw me right then.

“And the mudwoman returneth,” Dev said, sliding over to make room for me next to him.

I pretended I didn’t see him move and instead squeezed into a spot next to Bethany Two. I also pretended not to notice the confused look he gave me.

“That stuff took forever to get out of my hair,” I said lightly and then bit into my burger. I was not going to act like this whole situation was awkward. Not if I could help it. The almost-kiss was probably all in my head.

Miranda grimaced at me. “We have to do the bridge this afternoon. And I don’t like mud.”

“Believe me, no one is as clumsy as Phoebe. You’ll be fine.” Dev told her. His hair still had visible patches of mud in spots and I resisted the urge to reach across the table and smooth a stick-y out piece into place.

“I didn’t have anyone to steady the bridge for me on one side. I promise Dev and I will make sure it doesn’t wobble on you,” I said in a reassuring tone. In a fit of forced silliness, I pat my face dramatically. “Besides, mud does wonders for your complexion, you know.”