Dead of Summer

Maybe they’ll accidentally murder Kayde instead. Surely even if they just injure him, I can’t be held at fault for that. After all, I can’t be everywhere or see everything. Though, the fierce protectiveness that bubbles in my chest at the idea of Kayde hurting them surprises me a little, and I find myself glancing over at the counselor who’s currently waiting for the rope course with his boys.

It’s a good chance to study him. Even just for a moment. He isn’t looking at me, as he calls encouragement to the boys already on the course. He’s wearing a black harness over his clothes, and the way he’d handled the straps and buckles make me think he’s definitely done this before, even if his stories about being a counselor somewhere else are fake. Not that I know they are for certain, but…

Well, why would a serial killer actually want to be a summer camp counselor? The only reason he’s here is for murder. He doesn’t give a damn about these kids, and seeing him there, acting like he does, causes my skin to itch and gooseflesh to break out over my arms. Unconsciously I rub at my arms, fingers digging occasionally into my skin as I stare at him, unable to tear my gaze away from his profile.

He really is, unfortunately, gorgeous. The sounds around me seem to fade a little, and the memories from last night flood back to me. How the tile had felt on my knees. How his cum had tasted in my mouth.

If asked, I would say without hesitation how much I’d hated it. That I’d gone back to my cabin and forced myself to vomit to get any trace of Kayde off of me and out of me.

But that’s…not quite the case.

When I blink, I realize Kayde is looking at me. Not straight on, and I wouldn’t notice it if not for the tilt of his chin and the way one of his brows is quirked just so. I doubt anyone else knows his attention is somewhere other than on the obstacle course, and before I can stop myself, I stride over to stand beside him, smiling like anger and fear aren’t swimming to life in my chest.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, still keeping most of his focus on the boys on the course as they finish up. “Is it because you like looking at me, sweetheart?”

“No,” I assure him, hating that I do like how he looks. “I was just thinking, is all.”

“What about?”

My smile becomes absolutely beatific when he meets my eyes, and in the sweetest voice I can muster I say without stopping to think, “About the likelihood of you falling off that course and snapping your neck on the ground.”

He’s quiet for long enough that I worry he’s actually mad. My lips part again to make some kind of apology, to keep him from going on the murder rampage he’d promised that first night if I didn’t agree to this fucked up game.

But he cuts me off with a soft laugh before I can speak, shaking his head as he finally gives me his full attention. “I love it when you surprise me with your backbone, Summer. Most people wouldn’t want to upset me given our”—he looks around dramatically, then back at me—“circumstances. But not you. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He reaches up, glances over my shoulder, then drops his hand to his side. “You’re lucky I’m nice,” he informs me, as the last boy clambers down the ladder. “Darcy’s looking, and if I touch you, she might kill you. Since I don’t want to lose my favorite toy…” he trails off, but I get the point.

“Gosh, but you’re just so wonderful,” I reply, still in that dandy, friendly tone. “Glad you’re looking out for me.”

“I know you are,” he replies, just as sweetly. “Just a word of warning, Summer?”

“If it’s to actually clip my harness to the line, I’ve got that covered?—”

“Don’t start something you don’t want me to finish later. Night isn’t that far away, and I don’t have to be as nice as I was in the shower.” His smile is winning and bright, and he winks at me before striding away, giving his campers his full attention while answering a couple of quick questions.

I just suck in a breath and watch him go, wondering if I’ve made a mistake in how bold I was. But at the same time, knowing that nothing in this world will keep me from opening my mouth when I shouldn’t.

Not even a serial killer, apparently.

With my eyes glued on Coyote cabin, I barely notice when the other side of the clearing, the side with the ground obstacles, is free for my girls. It takes Melody poking my arm, something that makes me squeak in surprise and pain, before I look over to see that she and the other girls are chomping at the bit to get on the course.

“Sorry, sorry,” I sigh, throwing my hands up in surrender. I shoo them onto the course, not that it takes much, and follow behind them across the first obstacle, a series of low posts sticking out of the ground that need to be hopped between.

For me, the distance is minuscule enough that I can take long steps between them without actually hopping. For my girls, who are a good foot shorter, it’s an actual hop. Melody makes it on the first try, though two of the girls return the beginning, red-faced and frustrated even after I remind them it’s not a race.

Though telling my cabin this isn’t a competition is a worthless endeavor when everything is competitive to them. Including making s’mores, somehow. So instead of cautioning them to slow down, I try to prevent any long lasting damage or murder of another cabin as they complete the ground obstacles before pausing in the area before the rope course.

Sure enough, Kayde is just finishing up with his cabin when my eyes find him halfway up a tree, strapped in his harness and coaxing the last boy down the handholds nailed into the trunk. There’s no danger for either of them, with their harnesses clipped and strapped, but even some of the counselors get woozy on the higher obstacles.

I watch as he wraps an arm around the boy, who shakes like a leaf and buries his face in Kayde’s shirt, before the blond counselor slowly works them both down the tree, being careful not to let go of his camper.

It looks so…sweet. He seems helpful like this, when he’s playing at being the counselor he isn’t. Even when they’re on the ground he gives the boy a few seconds to get his bearings before releasing him, prompting him to see they’re on solid ground. Deftly, he unclips the boy’s harness, then his own, before walking him back over to the rest of the cabin, where his friends wait.

Even they’re being supportive, which is something I don’t always see from the boys here at Crestview. And, frankly, sometimes the girls too. My cabin, for all that they’re a united force allied to hunt down any opposition and snuff it out, would probably kick a weak link off of the proverbial island if it came down to that or winning something they’ve decided is a competition.

“It’s not a race.” My eyes land on Melody, the ringleader for Redtail. I’ve been her counselor long enough to know that if I can convince her, I’ll convince everyone of that. Or at least if she’s too intimidated to do something stupid, the others won’t either.

But she hasn’t been intimidated by me since she was nine, and today is no exception. With a grin on her lips and a mock salute in my direction, she clips her harness onto the safety line with practiced ease and barely waits for me to check it before she’s scrambling up onto the first platform, ready to walk the rope bridge to the other side. That’s if she doesn’t just lunge the distance instead.

“I don’t think she’s listening,” another girl, who’s spending her first year at Camp Crestview, whispers as I check her harness.