Dead of Summer

“I’ve noticed. She made sure to bring up all of what she thinks are your bad qualities. Told me a cute little rumor about you and Daniel, too. Then insinuated you’re in love with Kinsley and jealous of Liza.”

The snort I give is undignified at best, and at worst, I’m surprised I don’t choke on it. “What did you say? Did you assure her you’re unattached? That she still has a chance? For her to keep trying, and that I’m not a threat?—”

“I told her I didn’t appreciate her talking about you like that.” He cuts me off smoothly, and I feel his gaze on me, though I don’t look up. “I told her if that’s all she wanted, then she could fuck right off. That if she can’t keep your name out of her mouth, then she can run it to someone who gives a damn.”

He…did?

I finally peek up at him through my bangs, and sure enough, Kayde is staring down at me with a heated, confusing expression that I can’t read. I shift uncomfortably, pulling at the blanket, and realize I have no idea what to say.

“You didn’t have to,” I mumble finally, hoping the darkness hides the heat spreading over my cheeks. “She’s just being Darcy.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t like it. I don’t care if she’s just being herself.” His fingers tug playfully on the blanket as well, and he shifts just a little closer to me, so our arms brush whenever I move.

“…Thanks.” It feels wrong to leave it unsaid, though the word is dragged from my throat like unwilling prey.

“Anytime, sweetheart.” He checks around us, then leans down and playfully nips the tip of my ear, pulling a yelp from my throat. “Meet me here in two hours,” Kayde purrs, still close enough that I can feel his breath against my skin. “We’re doing something a little different tonight.”

Before I can ask what he means, or why in the world we’re meeting by the campfire, he’s gone; following his campers back to Coyote Cabin at a jog. I hear his fading voice reminding them they’re just showering, not going on a picnic in the shower house, so no, they don’t need snacks.

But all I can do is stare at his retreating figure and wish he wasn’t so good at confusing the hell out of me at every turn.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Two hours pass both incredibly quickly, and agonizingly slow. It shouldn’t be possible for both those things to occur at once, but somehow it happens. I shower while time ticks by, the water warming me up and sinking deep into my muscles to finally chase away the cold from the river.

I’m tired, though I shouldn’t be. I haven’t done more today than any other day, except for my accidental and unfortunate dunk in the river. But by the time the hour rolls around for me to meet Kayde, I find I’m yawning less, and the chill is back in my bones in a way that I don’t think I can chase off with a shower or blankets.

Instead of my usual camp counselor tee and shorts, I opt instead for leggings, sneakers, and a long-sleeved henley that I push up to my elbows automatically. It’s probably too warm for all of this, especially given it’s mid July in Tennessee. But something in me craves the warmth, even if it’s too much, too hot, or too oppressive.

Because it’s also strangely comforting to be this warm, like I can convince my brain the chill isn’t real and this night won’t be that big of a deal. I’m just too tired to play Kayde’s game tonight, and the river’s lasting chill isn’t going to make that any better.

At the embers of the campfire I sink down onto one of the large logs, head in my hands and a low sigh leaving my lips. This far away from the cabins, the camp is devoid of any human noise. Instead I can hear the crickets and the frogs near the lake when I close my eyes.

I’ve always loved how things feel out here.

The log shifts just slightly, and I open my eyes to slits to see the figure beside me, sitting with one knee drawn up and the other stretched out to the empty fire pit.

Tonight, Kayde hasn’t bothered to put up his hair. It hangs in damp ringlets to his shoulders, still managing to shine like gold in the dim light from the further away buildings. I can’t see the warm honey of his eyes, but I can see him gazing towards the fire, as if remembering the blaze from earlier.

“Hi,” I greet, hating that I can hear the tiredness in my voice even with that one word. “Long time no see. You enjoying the night air too?” The usual edge of sarcasm and taunting is absent, and I pretend that I don’t see the way he turns just enough to look at me, just enough to survey my face if he wants to.

I know he’s staring at me, though I don’t know what he’s looking for.

“Yeah,” Kayde murmurs at last, shifting just a touch closer to me so our legs press together at the thigh. “It really is nice here. And a nice night. You look cold.” The accusation is casual, inoffensive, and light-hearted coming from him.

“I am cold.” Hesitating before I reply, and I speak quietly like it is a secret. “I’ve been cold all damn day. It’s ridiculous.”

He scoffs softly at that and gets to his feet with one hand outstretched toward me. “We have a bit of a walk, so it might warm you up.”

I frown, nose scrunched in disgust as I get to my feet without his help. “I really hate exercise,” I gripe, eyes on his face. “Where are we going? Up a tree? It would be a shame if you fell out of it and, like, died or something.”

“Thought you’d be a little more grateful to me after today.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and for the first time I notice he’s not dressed like a camp counselor either, though I have no idea why. There’s also a backpack over his shoulder, though it’s empty enough that it sits flush against his body, which made it harder for me to notice.

My steps drag as worry flickers through my chest. He doesn’t look like Kayde the Camp Counselor tonight.

He looks much more like Kayde the Ax Murderer.

Kayde only notices when the distance between us yawns wider, becoming feet instead of inches as I reluctantly follow him into the thicker trees. I can’t run away from him. I can’t tell him no. But I sure as hell don’t have to march happily along to what I’m terrified is going to be my doom.