Page 43 of Wildfire
AFTER A WEEK OF SETTLINGin, camp is in full swing and my soccer elective sign-up sheet is almost full. I’m buzzing with excitement.
Following lunch and break time, the campers get to pick how to spend their afternoon by signing up for different counselor-led activities. After having their morning decided for them, the kids have a chance to do things more suited to their personal preferences.
The only thing I’ve ever been good at is getting myself into trouble, but Jenna said I wasn’t allowed to put that down as an option. I thought about doubling up with Emilia to offer dance, but she immediately told me to get my uncoordinated body away from her studio. So I’m teaching soccer because it’s pretty hard for me to screw that up.
It’s near impossible not to have a good understanding of it when you spent your childhood around as many English men as I did. I just need to act confident and the kids will think I’m actually good at it.
I know my nearly full sign-up sheet doesn’t really mean anything, but there’s something soothing about knowing you’re offering an activity they like and are excited about. And I know it’s not about me, it’s about the fact they want to play soccer. But it feels a little about me, and I’m happy they like me enough to choose to spend time learning from me.
Even if I’m about to make it up as I go.
Russ approaches as I’m spacing the colorful markers across the grass. “You need help?”
“You’re supposed to be enjoying your day off.”
Cool and calm. Don’t get distracted by how pretty he is.
“I am enjoying my day off.” His lips tug at the side, dimples appearing. “And I’m excited to learn about soccer.”
He picks up a handful of markers from the stand and begins copying me, placing them on the ground at the right distance for kids to dribble a ball between. I repeatcool and calmin my head as he picks up the agility ladder and begins to spread it next to where I’ve already put the others. I’m making a conscious effort not to fillsilences with nonsense because Russ is a quiet guy and I’m scared he’ll get tired of me, but every quiet second feels like a missed opportunity to open him up a bit.
Plus, when I’m around him, I truly have no idea what’s going to come out of my mouth.
I have nothing of value to say, so I settle for small talk, which some would argue is worse than rambling. “Where’s your lover?”
“She’s asleep in my cabin. It’s too hot for her, but it’s pretty cool down there.”
My head whips up so quickly my neck crunches. “Wait, what?”
Russ stops what he’s doing and there’s a moment where we just stare at each other. He’s trying to understand why I’m confused and I’m trying to work out if he’s really telling me what I think he’s telling me. Jumping to conclusions is silly, but I don’t exactly pride myself on my levelheadedness.
He moves closer, until he’s standing right in front of me, the soft smile from earlier still there. “Rory, I’m talking about Fish. Were you talking about Xander?”
Okay, see? This is a learning experience. “Yeah, I thought… I was trying not to jump… yeah. Yeah, I was talking about Xander.”
He’s trying not to laugh at me, which I appreciate because I’m trying to think of the best hiding place on site; I’ve found tons of great hiding places over the years, he’d never find me. I could live peacefully with the animals, like Snow White.
“He’s having a nap with the dogs. I didn’t change my entire personality and start fucking random women I work with in the middle of the day.”
The way he saysfucking random womenmakes me feel strange; it sounds alien coming from his mouth.
“I thought you might be ready to say fuck the rules. It’s hard work being good all the time.” It’s not that hard now that I’m trying. It took getting drunk and hearing how committed Russ is to keeping thisjob to make me realize I needed to uphold the commitments I made to myself when I got here.
Continuing the same cycle of getting hurt and acting out doesn’t benefit me, and it’s not why I wanted to come back to Honey Acres. This is the longest I’ve stuck to anything that doesn’t involve being petty.
“I’m not there yet, but you’ll be the first to know if I feel like getting into trouble.”
He’s flirting with me. I’m 99 percent—okay, more like 87 percent—sure he’s flirting with me. Where is Emilia when I need her? I need a second opinion. I need to respond with something smart and funny, and more important, something that tells him I am not above having sex in the woods.
I’ve got to stop forgetting about the universe’s intention to mess with me because not even ten seconds later, I spot Clay and Maya walking toward us, followed closely by a crowd of eager soon-to-be soccer players. Maybe it’s not the universe, maybe I just keep forgetting that I’m here to look after the kids and not just to stare at Russ’s massive thighs in his shorts.
Either way, it’s not the second opinion I was looking for.
The class goes by without a hitch, the flirtation percentage certainty reducing every time I think about it. By evening, I’ve survived another round of dining hall chaos, a dance, and making sure everyone gets ready for bed. The day is over and I’m totally exhausted, which significantly reduces my chances of getting into mischief. Emilia went to bed an hour ago after her nightly phone catch-up with Poppy, and I’ve been trying to summon the energy to get out of this very comfortable chair beside the campfire for twenty minutes.
Salmon is snoring on my chest, the heat of the fire is keeping us both warm, and there’s a chance I could just fall asleep instead. My eyes are trying to close and I’m fighting to keep them open, knowing if I fall asleep here, someone will definitely draw on my face.
“Are you asleep?”
