Stealing Third (9 page)

What
the hell?

The
mixed signals coming off Emily is giving me a serious case of whiplash. First
she stares daggers over the campfire at me for flirting with Jenny, and then
she meanders into the woods with that over developed muscle with no brains to
make out in some bizarre ‘seven minutes in heaven’ camp edition.

One
I’ve had to listen to Todd recount for the last hour and a half. Straight.

“Dude,
it was so hot,” Todd says, describing their walk in the woods with vivid
detail. “She was going so crazy I had to stop it—or we could have been arrested
for, like, indecent exposure or something.”

“Lights
out was over an hour ago,” I say, not bothering to hide my aggravation at
having to hear the play by play of Emily and Todd hooking up. “Shut it down.”

“Ah.
Don’t be jealous just because you struck out with Jenny. What can I say? Some
guys are just luckier than others.”

“You
mean some guys just
get
luckier than others,” Andy, who I’m sure has
never gotten lucky in his life, pipes in.

Todd
gives Andy a high five while the rest of the guys laugh. “Nice.”

I
clench my fists and stuff down a retort about just how lucky I got with
little-miss-whiplash not so long ago, but, unlike Todd, I would never
disrespect Emily like that. Or any girl for that matter.

My
anger grows as Todd ignores my call for lights out, continuing with the blow by
blow about having Emily’s legs wrapped around him with her back against a tree,
moaning.

I
grab the pillow from under my head and yank it over my face. Why the hell am I
letting this piss me off so much?

Trying
to tune out the guys, I can’t shake the irritation of having to hear about
their hookup over and over. Especially after admitting during truth or dare I
had wanted to kiss her earlier. She had to knowI was talking about me and her
on the field, right? I mean—

And
then, like the curve ball she beamed me with, it hits me. Why I’m so pissed.
I’ve been played. Like a sport. One she could probably go pro in by the way
she’s been running me around in circles since the day we met, like a pickle
play between first and second base.

Shit.
“She’s a player.”

“Damn
straight, I’m a player,” Todd mouths off, mishearing me from the other room.
“Hate the game, bro. Hate the game.”

That’s
it. I can’t take one more second of Todd. I toss off my covers, slip on my
shoes, and head to the back door of the cabin, hoping some fresh air will knock
the sense back into me.

Who
cares? So, I got played?

It’s
not like I actually liked her-liked her—right? And even if I did, Coach would
kill me before I ever made it past second base anyway.

No.
This is better. Maybe now I can finally stop thinking about her all the damn
time. I can stop thinking about the way her lips tasted, or her skin felt, or
the way she smelled. Sugary sweet.

I
shake my head. Okay. Maybe I like her a little more than I’d like to admit.

Pushing
out the back door into the cool midnight air I take in a deep breath of
something sweet…and familiar. Bubble gum. Big League Chew to be exact. Emily.

I
peer around the edge of the cabin and sure enough, there she is, on her tip
toes trying to peek into the cabin’s side window.

My
jaw clenches. Seriously? Did she not get enough of Todd-the-bod for one night?

Clearing
my throat, she jumps away from the cabin looking panicked, which gives me the
slightest bit of satisfaction considering how brazen she was the first time I
caught her sneaking out.

When
her eyes meet mine they move slowly from startled to sparkling as a smile washes
across her face—making it hard not to smile back, except, I’m not falling for
it. Not again. I refuse to cover for her. Rules are rules and she’s breaking
them.

I
cross my arms, take a deep breath, and level her with as much authority as I
can. “You’re breaking the rules, Emily. Lights out was over an hour ago and
junior counselors are not permitted out after that. I have no choice but to
report you this time,” I say with emphasis, so there’s no confusion I’m on to
her, and no amount of flirting with me is going to save her.

It’s
also a whole lot easier to assert my authority considering I’m not trying to
break into her medical files to check if she’s jailbait or not.

“Report
me?” She raises one perfectly arched eyebrow, challenging me.

“Yes.”
I stand firm as she slinks towards me, exactly the way she did when I caught
her sneaking out the first time. “If you want to see your boyfriend you can
wait until tomorrow. That’s the rules,” I say as she continues to walk closer,
forcing me to take a step back to get some much needed distance from her stare.

She’s
just playing you, I remind myself as my body starts to react to the way her
body moves. “And maybe if you didn’t keep breaking them you wouldn’t find
yourself in trouble so often.”

“You
know what they say about trouble, right?” She closes the last few feet between
us, until she’s standing so close her chest brushes against my crossed arms,
and she has to crane her neck to look up at me, her lips begging for a kiss.

“Wait.
What?” she says suddenly, her eyes no longer smoldering, but genuinely
confused. “What boyfriend?”

Is
she serious? What boyfriend?

“Todd.”

“Todd?”

“Don’t
try to play dumb,” I say, just above a whisper, before moving back into the
shadow of the trees behind the cabin so we both don’t get caught for being out
after lights out.

She
follows until we’re both hidden from the view of the other cabins. “I guess I
wouldn’t blame you for denying it though, considering your boyfriend just spent
over an hour telling everyone in our cabin about how you practically had sex in
the woods. Classy guy.”

“He
what?” Emily shouts so loudly, that without thinking I move in close enough to
feel each angry breath she takes as I press my finger against her lips to quiet
her.

“Shhhhh.”
I glance around us before pulling my finger away from her warm lips. “Keep it
down.”

“But
he’s lying,” she says, this time so soft I strain to hear her. “I swear.”

“Yeah,
well, if he’s lying, then why are you here? Are you trying to get in trouble on
purpose or something?”

Tyler’s
question catches me off guard, since getting in trouble on purpose is all I’ve
been trying to do since I arrived at camp, but right now, that’s not why I’m
here. Unless giving Tyler hell can get me in trouble.

“Well?”
Tyler asks. His breath, minty and cool, rushes over my face, reminding me just
how close we are. “If you’re not here to see Todd, then what are you doing
here?” His jaw is tense and flexes as he stares at me.

I
bite my lip, unsure how to answer now that I’m here and we’re standing so close
I can feel the soft fabric of his Henley brush against my slightly sunburned
skin.

Tired
of all the games we’re playing, I drop my eyes to the ground and fidget with
the frayed hem of my jean shorts. “I…I came to see you,” I admit, trying to
keep an edge of anger in my voice, but it comes out sounding exactly the way I
feel. Vulnerable.

“Why?”
he whispers, angling his head so our foreheads almost touch, the space between
us so small I worry he can hear my heart thudding in my chest.

I
swallow hard. Why
am
I here?

My
mind races with the excuses I used to justify stomping over here—but with his
body so close, and his eyes so intense—flirting with Jenny right in front of my
face, or teasing me on the dock, or his antics on the field when I could have
sworn he was about to kiss me, all seem irrelevant. The truth is—I wanted to
see him.

“I
came to…uh…wait—” I know why I stomped over here to see him, mad, and jealous,
and determined to stop this game we keep playing, but why is he so mad? Because
I’m breaking the rules? Or is it because of something else?

Putting
a hand on my hip, I pull away so I can see his face, hoping I’ll find an answer
there. “Why do you care if I was here to see Todd or not?”

Tyler
blinks, like the question has thrown
him
off guard. He steps backwards
and rakes his hands through his hair, taking with him the heat from his body,
and sending a chill up my arm in its absence. “You should go, Emily.” The
intensity in his stare at war with his words.

“Why?”
I take a step towards him, wanting to feel his body close to mine again,
wishing he’d tell me to stay.

“Emily.”
It’s a plea.

I
press again. “Tell me? Why would you care if I was here to see Todd?”

Tyler
drops his hands to his sides, sucks in a deep breath, and then lets it out in
one quick push of air. “Because the idea of him kissing you, or touching you,
or even being near you infuriates me,” he says so deep, and quiet, it comes out
more like a growl.

My
breath catches as I stare into his eyes—and unlike today on the field—this time
he doesn’t hesitate.

His
hands move to the sides of my face, slide into my hair, and pull me into him so
hard and fast our lips crash against one another, in a fury of hot kisses that
ignites my skin.

There’s
no teasing, or taunting. No games. Just need, and want, and an undeniable fire
burning in both of us.

Without
words, only breathless pants and soft moans being passed between our lips, he
grabs my hips and lifts, allowing me to wrap my legs around his waist as my
hands clutch his broad shoulders.

Spinning
us around in one fluid motion, he presses my back against the thick trunk of an
old oak tree and begins to trail kisses along my neck, across my shoulder, and
back up to my ear.

“Kissing
you, again,” Tyler breathes, scraping the soft skin behind my earlobe with his
teeth. “Is the only thing I’ve thought about since the night we met.”

His
words—and the pressure of his hips pressed hard against me—sends a chill down
my spine that settles low in my belly, pushing me closer to the edge. I clutch
his hair in my hands and tug at it as his tongue continues to tease every nerve
ending along my overheated skin.

“Yo,
Tyler?” A voice cuts through the dark from what sounds like the front of the
cabin, and causes Tyler and me to freeze instantaneously. “Yo, man, you out
here?”

Resting
his forehead against mine, as my breath comes out in labored pants and an
unexploded ache rages, I try not to move despite wanting to. Badly.

The
sound of the screen door squeaking shut, followed by footsteps on the cabin’s
front porch, makes me unwrap my legs from around Tyler’s waist and set my feet
on the ground, causing a branch to break beneath my foot.

“Tyler?”
the kid says again, his voice and footfalls coming closer. “Is that you?”

“Shit,”
Tyler whispers against my lips before kissing me again quickly, his tongue
flicking out and leaving me wanting more when he pulls away. “Later, okay?” he
asks, his eyes a mixture of worry and desire as he waits for my answer.

Nodding,
I rake my fingers into the hair at the back of his head and pull him one last
time to my lips. “Later,” I whisper before releasing my hold, reluctantly.

He
straightens his spine, adjusts himself, and then walks backwards out of the
shadows of the trees, a satisfied smile on his face. A smile, which I imagine,
mirrors the one I must be wearing right now.

Tossing
me a wink, he turns around and disappears behind the side of the cabin.

“Dude,
there you are.” I hear the guy, whose voice I don’t recognize, say to Tyler.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Todd burned his ass trying to light a
fart on fire. I think he might need some medical attention.”

I
throw my hands over my mouth to stop from laughing.

Why
am I not surprised?

Good
thing for Todd, Tyler’s as good a doctor as he is a kisser.

“Rise
and shine, campers,” Walter and Gale, belt out over the camp’s PA system in
cheery unison, our daily morning wake up call.

I
roll over and toss the covers over my head to get one last second of peace and
quiet before the incessant chatter starts up—no doubt about Todd’s epic
ass-flamethrower fail last night—which resulted in a first degree burn, and
worse, Emily and I being interrupted.

It
took all my reserve not to throw it in his face, after finding out he lied
about hooking up with her, that I was actually the one who had Emily’s legs
wrapped around him. And for the record, she doesn’t moan when she’s into it,
she murmurs. Dickhead.

Dragging
the covers off, I catch Emily’s scent still lingering on my skin, and it sends
a jolt of electricity through my body. The feel of her soft skin beneath my
hands and the way she moved against me flashes behind my closed eyelids.

Now
that’s a wake-up call.

After
a quick shower and a handful of ribs on Todd—because how could I not—we filter
down the dirt trail and across the lawn, damp with fresh dew, to the camp’s
cafeteria. The smell of bacon and fresh baked muffins wafts through the early
morning air, and makes my mouth water.

“Hey,
Tyler! Over here,” a girl calls out over the noise of the room. My eyes scan
the rectangular tables packed with campers of all ages in search of the voice
and hope it’s Emily. It’s not. It’s Jenny waving at me excitedly. “Come sit.”

My
shoulders deflate.

After
the awkward walk home last night with Jenny, the last thing I want to do is
give her the wrong impression that I’m into her. Although, I probably should
have thought of that before I started flirting with her at the campfire to make
Emily jealous. Oops.

“Oh,
uh—” I start, but stop short when I see Emily sitting next to her. “Yeah, be
right there.” I smile.

I
let last night drift back to me as I grab breakfast, replaying the way Emily
smiled when I whispered in her ear we would continue what had been interrupted
‘later’—a promise I intend to keep.

Glancing
over my shoulder, I’m surprised by the shy smile she gives me before looking
away and picking at her waffle.

Emily
shy? I would have never guessed she had a shy bone in her body. Her amazing,
sexy, can’t stop thinking about it, body. The body, I realize, I’ll have to
somehow avoid touching if I join their table, despite wanting to do the exact
opposite. That is, unless I want to risk getting caught breaking the
fraternization rule, which I do not.

More
like, cannot.

“Looks
like Emily just can’t get enough,” Todd chimes in over my shoulder like that
smile was meant for him as he fills his tray with two weeks’ worth of food. I
guess it takes a ton of fuel to run his mouth so much.

“Tone
it down,” I respond, trying not to crush the paper milk carton in my hand, but
misshaping it anyway.

“What?
I can’t help that she wants me.” Todd puffs out his chest in the same neon
green tank top he was wearing last night, the words, ‘suns out, guns out’
written across it.

Despite
my annoyance with Todd, an uncontrollable smirk crosses my face, and I can’t
help but gloat a little on the inside.
You’re not the one she wants. Trust
me.

“Ladies,
ladies,” Todd says when we reach the table, holding his tray in one hand while
running his other hand through his crunchy hair and flexing his arm. “The Bod,”
he flops down between Emily and Jenny, “is here.”

Rolling
my eyes, I set my tray down directly across from Emily. “Good morning,” I say
to the table of girls from cabin eight, but I direct my voice to her. “I hope
you all had sweet dreams.”

Emily
glances up with a pink flush on her cheeks and smiles, before sniffing the air
dramatically. “Can you,” sniff, sniff, “smell that?” she asks the table, her
question being met with a few odd stares, including mine. I inhale deeply and
smell maple syrup and bacon.

“You
mean breakfast?” I ask jokingly, opening my milk.

She
smiles slyly. “No, not breakfast. It’s more like…burnt hair.” 

I
nearly spit out the mouth full of milk I’m gulping down as I try not to bust
out laughing. Burnt hair?

“What?
I…I don’t smell anything,” Todd stutters, whipping his head around the table.

“I
don’t know, man, I think I smell it, too,” I say, messing with him, which earns
me a full blown smile from Emily that I return with a wink.

“You
know what? It’s probably my sweatshirt,” Jenny chimes in, batting her eyelashes
at me. “It’s the one I wore to the campfire last night. It smells a little like
smoke, well that, and your cologne.”

My
cologne? But how? I furrow my brows as she buries her nose into the sweatshirt
before it dawns on me. She’s sniffing the spot where my arm had been slung over
her shoulder last night in my pursuit to prove to Emily that two could play the
jealousy game.

My
eyes dart from Jenny to Emily and then back again uncomfortably, expecting
Emily to kick me in the shins any second—which I totally deserve for flirting
with Jenny just to make her jealous—but Emily does nothing but shoot me a smug
look. A silent, ‘Ha! Good luck with that.’ Double oops.

“Good
morning, campers. May I have your attention?” Walter says into a microphone on
a small stage at the front of the room. He raises his hand. “Please, please,
quiet down.”

The
chatter stops slowly until only a few whispered conversations or bursts of
laughter can be heard around the large room.

“That’s
great, thank you, everyone,” he says, lowering his hand, and then walking to
the side of the stage where a gold cord that opens the velvet red curtains that
hang behind him is. “I wanted to take this opportunity to tell you how great
this session is going so far,” his enthusiastic voice booms through the sound
system, “and I think this just might be the best group of campers we have ever
had!”

A
handful of campers, including Todd, hoot and holler, but I can barely pay
attention to anything with what I hope is Emily’s foot under the table running
up and down my leg.

I
cough, dropping my napkin to the ground to sneak a peek. Please don’t be Jenny.
Please don’t be Jenny. Nonchalantly I reach down, snatch up my napkin, and peer
under the table. I release the breath I’m holding. It’s Emily. Playing footsie.

I
sit upright and shoot her a quick smile, before readjusting in my seat so I can
play, too. I slip off my flip-flop and straighten my knee to run my foot up her
smooth silky leg, but I’m met with a rough, hairy one instead.

“Dude.
Are you playing footsie with me?  I mean, I know I’m irresistible, but I had no
idea you wanted to get all up on this, too,” Todd says to me, since I’m the
only one on this side of the table close enough to touch him.

This
time, Emily is the one who nearly chokes on her milk. She turns to face away
from the table as a sputter of frothy white liquid flies out of her mouth and
hits Todd in the face.

Wiping
the milk off with a swipe of the back of his hand, and looking indignant, I can’t
contain my laughter and neither can the rest of our table.

“Shhhh,
over there,” Walter says, pointing at us cracking up, causing the whole room to
glance our direction. I try to stop laughing, but I can’t and neither can
Emily. We continue, silently this time, causing my shoulders to shake and my
stomach muscles to hurt.

Walter
clears his throat. “As I was saying, I think this just might be the best set of
campers we have ever had at Camp Champ,” his voice grows louder, “and that is
why I’m positive this is going to be the best Color War we have ever had!” he
shouts, yanking the gold cord to open the red curtains, and revealing a huge
sign that breaks down the cabins into team colors.

The
room erupts with cheers as campers start to run around and hug or high five
each other, chanting their respective team’s color, each trying to drown out
the other’s voice. In big block letters I see my cabin is team red and Emily’s
cabin is white.

“You’re
going down, White,” I taunt Emily as her cabin and mine start to trade
friendly, but competitive jabs.

“In
your dreams, Slugger,” she teases, picking up a ripe red strawberry from her
plate and tossing it in my direction, which I catch easily.

Keeping
my eyes locked with hers, I dip the strawberry into the fluffy white whipped
cream piled high on my waffles until it’s completely covered in the sweet
topping—my thought process clear—at least to her.

She
steps away from the table, but only after grabbing the spoon from the jar of
raspberry jam, and aiming the sticky catapult in my direction. “You wouldn’t
dare.”

“Are
you sure about that?” I say, raising my eyebrows, because at this point, I’m
not even sure. Considering how many rules I’ve already broken when it comes to
Emily, what’s one more? And probably the least of my offensives. “You know what
they say, right?” I ask and then without another thought, or any more time for
Emily to reload the dripping jam on her spoon, I gently toss the whipped cream
covered berry, hitting her directly in the middle of her forehead. “All is fair
in love and war.”

Her
eyes go wide, before her smile goes wider. “Oh, it’s on,” she says right before
launching the dollop of jam through the air and nailing me in the face.

“Food
fight!” Todd yells at the top of his lungs. His voice echoes off all four walls
of the cafeteria as another spoonful of something wet and sticky, maple syrup I
think, splats against my neck and drips down my shirt.

“Oh,
it’s on, all right.” I scoop up a handful of soft butter from a dish in the
middle of the table and let it fly.