10 Weeks (18 page)

But his hand shouldn’t be there because of Nate.

Hell. Is this what it’s like to have a conscience? Because I’m about done. Nate is a thousand miles away, and I didn’t even mean to start dating him anyway.

“So…I…”

“Wanna get high and fool around?” I ask.

“Um… I don’t… I mean. I had to quit.” He scratches hi
s head full of bland brown hair
and won’t meet my eyes.

“You had to quit?” I snort. “Why?”

“Got caught. I had to beg to let them take me back to be a counselor this year, but I need to go in for UA tests pretty often if I’m gonna stick around. It’s that I’ve come here for so many years, they were still willing to give me a chance.”

“Well, fuck, Jerry.”

“I’m cool wi
th the fool around part, though.
” He tries to tease, but has to take another big swallow.

He reminds me of that geeky guy who did the voice of the kid in
How To Train Your Dragon—
me comparing him to a cartoon is probably a dead giveaway that I should not have invited him out here. He’s not really worth fooling around with if I’m not high. So much for distraction.

“There you are!”
Kay-Kay
busts out the back door.
“Our team is up for darts.”

Just in time.

Jerry’s got crushing disappointment on his face, but I’m not nearly drunk enough to throw him a bone. Kay-Kay drags me inside and orders us both another beer. I ask for a shot with mine and ignore the question in Kay-Kay’s face.

A beer and two more shots later and I’m numb in the perfect way. A guy at the dart board’s been eyeing me for the last few minutes and his hotness almost makes me forget Nate. He slides behind me and asks if I want to pick out songs on the juke box with him.

It’s a backwoods bar. Of course it has a juke box.

I stand in front of him, scanning the songs, and feel his hardness brush up against my ass. Yes. This might be the perfect distraction from Nate.

“Can I get you another shot?” he whispers, and then turns me around so he’s leaning over me, his sort of disgusting breath in my face.

I close my eyes and prepare for his kiss, but instead feel an elbow in my side.

“
Sam, we’re rolling
.”
Kay-Kay
sounds so serious,
but I’m not ready to go yet. I’m just getting started with my distraction.

“No way. We’re just getting to know each other.”

Kay Kay narrows her eyes. “Matt, right?”

“Yeah.” He smiles a fairly gorgeous smile. “Yeah. I’ll give her a ride home.”

I stumble a couple times, not realizing how much I’ve had to drink. I’m fuzzier than I thought. “He’ll give me a ride home.”

Kay Kay says something else, but all I hear is herpes.

Oh. Matt. The STD guy. Crap. Maybe numbing wasn’t the best call tonight. Thank Christ for my friends. Kay-Kay
has a radar for when I’m about to make an ass out of myself.

I leap from
Matt
and practically throw myself on
Kay-Kay and Jody
. “Thanks,” I whisper.

Kay-Kay
pats my back. “I don’t think we got nearly drunk enough tonight. Maybe our
next night off
, huh?” She glances behind us as w
e head inside. “And not fucking Matt
. God. Have some standards.”

I feel a twinge of guilt or anger, but it fades fast because she’s right. Now I feel a little stupid, which really isn’t going to help me forget about the Nate situation.

I grab Jody, who has stopped at the bar on our way out,
and she jumps as she tears her gaze away from Liam—the delicious new addition to the bartending staff at the Little Minnow. Wonder how much Mr. Irish will make in tips shoved down the front of his pants by horny girls this summer?

He glances our way as we head for the door, and I’m thinking quite a lot. Maybe even a few from me.

But as Jody’s cheeks pink when she breaks her gaze from his, I know I’ll be leaving Liam alone.
That’s one rule I don’t break.

Chapter Twenty-nine

I’m hoarse from yelling instructions and calling out names and shoving girls in cabins. I need a smoke break before I brave the night with new kids. I swear our short week before campers arrived was longer last year. This year sped by in a haze of a few more drunken nights at the Little Minnow,
Kay-Kay
stealing too-long glances at Alex, and Jody blushing at every fucking thing I say.

The back side of the shed near
Kay-Kay
’s targets was a good spot last year, so I wander
in
that direction. As soon as I step around the corner, I nearly run into a string-bean of a Latina girl with a lazy expression and a cigarette in her mouth.

“Give me that.” I snatch it from her, and I’m just about to toss it to the ground when I realize she’s just barely started. “And the rest, too.” I hold out my hand and she sighs, pulling the pack from her shorts.

“Now…” Now what? “Go back to your cabin.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me who I am?” She rests her hands on her hips.

“Who are you?” God I suck at this ‘being the authority’ stuff they lectured us on last week.

“Paloma Valdez. And you’re welcome to call my parents, but they
already pulled a few strings.
I’m here all summer instead of just one session, so I’m guessing nothing will happen, and I won’t be sent home.”

“Thanks for the smokes, Paloma. Go find your cabin.” I lean against the shed and dare her to argue.

She doesn’t.

As soon as she’s gone, I give the pack a shake. Nice. Almost full. That’s good. I’m already running low. Being on the run has made me twitchy. I take a long drag and try
to mentally prepare for a
night with kids. They really should not have hired me for this gig.

After a morning of beginning cheerleading—involving mostly poms and elementary age squealing, I’m about out of cheer.

And I was looking forward to advance dance, but the girls who take dance during the school year are the worst to teach. I start by making sure they can all do the moves in the routine I’ll teach them, and instead of just doing the spin I showed them, they add an extra turn, or a kick at the end, just to make sure I know how incredibly skilled they are. Please. Almost all of these girls will
end up as over-manicured house
wives in ten years, and unless they marry rich enough for personal trainers and gym memberships, they’ll be twice the size they are now after popping out a couple of kids.

Who the fuck would want that?

The thought of Nate pinpricks at my chest again, because he’ll want that. Nate will definitely want the whole thing—picket fence, garden, nice house, quiet street—all things that make me want to run screaming. Which I guess I did.

One of the girls interrupts me as I explain what we’re doing next because I’m adding some ballroom moves into our routine this year.

“I was always taught that you should start with both feet flat on the ground, not on your toes.” Pink girl scowls. I don’t know their names yet, so for now, they’re the color I imagine them to be.

“In dancing, you are almost always on your toes.” I stare and dare her to contradict me.

“Fine.” Her eyes widen slightly, and I continue to stare, still daring her to roll them. She doesn’t.

Just when I think I might die of boredom in teaching these girls the basic steps of the cha-cha, the
bell ring
s to signal the end of the day.

The older girls never ask if they’re excused, just take off.

Fine with me. The heat and exhaustion from the day catch up to me, and I flop on the grass to stare at the sky. The
intense sun
is ridiculous, and I keep hoping
for a day in the water. I’d even brave minnow nips of my girl parts
for a break.

“Did you ever think of going to college?” Nate’s hands are on my hips and he’s dancing behind me, the studio mirrors reflecting back our movements.

“Yeah. But not right away,” he answers and nuzzles my ear. My heart beat quickens. “I sort of wanted to see how far dancing could take me before my body gave out on me and I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Feeling the strong smoothness of his movements guiding mine, I don’t think his body will ever give out on him.

“Huh. Yeah. I can see that.”

“What about you?”

I shake my head. “That ship kind of sailed. Not really my scene anyway. I’m hardly academically inclined.”

Nate turns me around and looks at me intently. “I think you could do anything you wanted.”

“Don’t do that,” I whisper.

“Do what, baby?”

“Don’t make me better than I am.”

“Sam? You have a sec?” Alex asks.

“Sure.” I sit up and tug my tank back down so it hits the top of my shorts. Almost.

“Uh…” He looks suddenly uncertain.

“Spit it out, Alex. Get a complaint against me or something?” I ask as I fish in my oversized
bag
for a piece of gum.

I run into two bottles of sleep aid before I find the Orbit.

“I know you teach dance, and that you need to wear clothes that you can move in…” He shifts his weight a few times, which really isn’t like him.

“But,” I prompt.

“But it’s a half step above a bathing suit. I’ve got
Kay-Kay
running around without a bra and wearing propaganda T-shirts, you wearing nothing, and Jody who works the girls so hard they nearly collapse at the end of their swim time.”

“You noticed
Kay-Kay
’s lack of bra?” I figure this is the easiest way to get him to walk away.

True to form he looks flustered for a half-second before attempting to make his point a second time. “If you have shorts with another inch or two, that would be great.” But he doesn’t bother making eye contact.

“I’ll ask
Kay-Kay
to wear a bra, if you really want me to talk to her about her boobs.” I even manage to not smile.

Alex sighs before wiping his forehead and moving away. “We’re probably going to do a water day tomorrow. Remember that this isn’t a topless beach.”

One for Alex.

“Yes sir!” I shout as he moves away. I don’t even mean for it to come out disrespectful, but it probably does. Force of habit.

Dinner’s being served, but I’m in no mood to eat. Being away from my apartment, and everything, and every
one
that entails isn’t as freeing as I thought it would be.

As I needed it to be.

And instead of leaving my phone in my bag where it belongs, I torture myself and pull up Nate’s texts.

Really, I should pull my toenails out because it would be less painful. I start at the top anyway. Again.

Sam, where are you? We were going to rehearse tonight. I’m starting to get worried. You’re never running this late.

Funny you should ask, Nate. Because at that point in time I was packing a few bags and throwing them in the car before you made it back to our building and knocked on my door.

Sam. I’m
really getting worried
.

I was pulling out of my parking space…

Okay. I’m officially starting to freak out. You’re not at home. You’re not at the studio. Your car is gone. Please just send me a text to tell me you’re okay.

And this is when I should have sent him a text. I should have just said—
I need space. You should forget about me
. But I didn’t. Because I’m sick and twisted enough to love that he’s worried about me. That he’s freaking out when I wasn’t where I said I’d be, even though he should have thought—
F
laky Sam. Not surprised she didn’t show
.

The thing is,
I haven’t been able to be flaky Sam. Not around him. I haven’t wanted to be. He was a good dance partner. The best. If I’d stuck around, we’d have really gone places. The lump in my throat has gotten too big to swallow.

Why did he have to push things? Why couldn’t he have been gay like every other ballroom dancing partner I’ve ever had.
Why
?

Sam. I’m at your apartment. It’s after midnight. The cops won’t do anything. My heart’s pounding at the thought of you being somewhere and needing my help. God, I love you.

And that right there is the reason I left. Him telling me he loved me was sort of a dead giveaway that he didn’t know me the way he said he did. So, even after that text I’m horrible enough
to have
waited hours before sending him one pathetic line.