Dead of Summer

“I’ll take this if you take them?” I snag Kinsley’s plate from in front of her, and for good measure, Liza’s, too. The three of us have eaten together all summer, and it’s another reason that Kinsley’s love for our camp nurse hasn’t faded in the slightest. She loves Liza’s dinner conversation.

“We’ll take them,” Liza agrees brightly, smiling up at me. She’s always seemed to actually enjoy being here, and she wants kids. It’s confusing to me, but I’m not here to judge my best friend’s summer love target. “Thanks, Summer.”

Kinsley smiles up at me with her own silent gratitude. “We won’t let Melody kill anyone,” she promises.

“Blessings on your hearth.” My words are solemn as I balance the plates in one hand and snag our empty plastic glasses with the other. Liza starts to protest, but I’m far enough away from the table that I pretend not to hear it. This might have been a bit too much of an armful since I can’t stack the plates well due to their contents. But I’d rather have a few quiet moments to myself washing dishes before I go out to a bunch of kids trying to sword fight with marshmallow-laden sticks.

Though the image of the kids doing just that a few weeks ago brings a grin to my lips, and I push my shoulder into the kitchen door easily, cautiously, just in case there’s someone on the other side.

There isn’t. I open the doors to an empty kitchen, and within a few minutes, the dishes have been scraped clean into the trash before being dumped in the sink. Once there, I turn on the hot water, not minding the liquid scalding my hands as I lather up the plates. I love a searing shower, and this is just a miniature version of that in my mind.

Once the dishes are clean, I head for the door again, and I’m surprised when it opens before I can do that for myself. Thankfully, a jumped step backward saves me from a door to the face, though I’m quick to rush forward automatically when Kayde comes in balancing five dishes and a half dozen cups on his own.

“You’re supposed to make them do this for themselves,” I sigh, grabbing the cups from him so he can focus on the plates. Deftly, I pour the remaining liquid into the sink before dumping them in as well. Kayde only chuckles, the sound like honey and sweetness, as he readjusts his grip on the overburdened dishes.

“They just looked so sad when they were faced with dishes,” he tells me, moving to lay the plates down on the counter beside the industrial sink. When I go to grab one, he shakes his head. “It’s fine. I offered to do it, so I’ll clean up the mess, Summer.” He says my name blandly, and something in me deflates just a little.

But what am I expecting, exactly? For him to whisper my name like it’s something special?

“It’s okay,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I don’t mind helping—” His fingers wrap around my wrist when my hand goes for the plates again, and this time I pause to turn my head enough to look at his face.

There it is again.

It’s like his face can’t quite decide what it wants to do. Or like he’s sending his features mixed emotional messages. The smile that curls on his lips is kind and easy. Though the way his eyes are just slightly narrowed under his long, enviable lashes shows me a different story. There’s something there that forbids disagreement; something that tells me to listen to him instead of doing whatever I want.

“Seriously.” His tone is soft, the warmth seeming unsure there. “I can do it.”

I wonder if he just doesn’t like me very much, and it’s hard for him to pretend otherwise. That thought sobers me up, and I try to extract my hand from his fingers with a shake of my head. “Seriously,” I parrot back at him, making a face. “The faster this is done, the faster you can go make sure Coyote Cabin doesn’t set the record for camp incidents again this month.”

He finally relinquishes his hold on my wrist and moves to clean up as much as he can while I dump half-eaten food into the large trash bin. “Again?” he repeats at last. “I thought you told me my campers were nothing to worry about.”

All I can do is side eye him at that, though I’m sure the small, guilty smile on my lips tells him all he needs to know. “Oops?” I offer at last. “Maybe I feel bad about it and this is me making it up to you.”

“I don’t think you feel bad about it at all, actually.” I swear he’s closer than he had been, and his shoulder rubs lightly against mine; warm under his t-shirt. “Sort of feels like you wanted me to get eaten, actually.”

“I would never.” But my lips twitch in a smile, and I hand him the last couple of scraped-clean plates. “Glad to see they haven’t killed you yet, though. Darcy would be heartbroken.”

Why did I say that? I regret the words the moment they’re out, but I just smile and try to keep the same expression on my face as I pull away from the sink. “Anyway.” God, now I feel awkward. “See you at the fire. Prepare to break up marshmallow sword fights all night.”

He doesn’t say anything. Not at first, while I’m lingering to give him a chance to respond. It isn’t until I’ve almost gone past him that he turns, surprisingly fast, to grab my elbow in his long-fingered grip that’s wet from the sink water.

“Tonight is your night to ‘patrol the camp’ or whatever, right?” he asks, but I shake my head at the question.

“No. It’s Darcy’s night, actually. I’m tomorrow.” There’s satisfaction in his eyes, though it fades quickly. “You want to trade? She’d probably trade you, if you want a different night. It’s not like the order really matters.”

He shakes his head, his fingers still tight on my arm enough that I glance down at his hand in surprise. Kayde’s wrist and hand are just as tan as the rest of him. As if he spends most of his summer nude, sunbathing on a California beach. It makes me wonder if there are any tan lines on him at all, or if?—

No, that’s definitely not a summer camp appropriate thought, and I shut it down before it gets away from me.

“I just wanted to know, is all,” he tells me, cracking a small, genuine smirk of his own. “Anyway.” His grip releases, hand falling to his side. “I’m almost done, so I’ll be out in a few minutes. If you see any of my kids actively killing someone, can you at least dangle something shiny in front of them until I get there?”

“No promises.” I push the door open with one shoulder, then pause.

Why do you care about nighttime walk arounds if you don’t want to swap? The question is thick and heady on my tongue, but I manage to swallow it back, though I’m still standing in place as he dries the dishes.

It takes him a second to notice, and when Kayde looks at me again, his brows raise by increments, I only shake my head. “Nothing,” I say, in answer to his unspoken question. “I'm just overthinking stupid shit. See you in a few.”

“See you,” he agrees, and I see him turn back to the sink before I let the door close behind me, already aiming for the quickest way out of Otter Hall and to the large, blazing campfire outside.