Dead of Summer

“You said you weren’t interested. You acted so uninterested in him, like he was beneath you. And now he’s, what, pulling you out of the water when you fall in?”

I hadn’t exactly fallen in, but she’s just trying to needle me into anger. I know her game, and it’s very different from Kayde’s. Plus, about ten times more pathetic. Instead, I just roll my shoulders in a shrug, eyes on the snapping twigs and embers that fizzle out in darkness of the sky above the large campfire.

“I saw you guys at dinner. How close he got to you? And he’s the reason for the stupid fucking Bandaids, right?”

My jaw aches with the desire to tell her she’s my safe word, because there’s nothing that’s more of a turnoff in this world than fucking Darcy. But I lock my teeth against the thought, still refusing to give her any bit of an answer. She’s not worth it, and I refuse to sit here and argue about Kayde.

“You’re pathetic.” Her voice is soft enough that no one else can hear. “Are you just competing with Kinsley? Or is this you staking some kind of claim on any new counselors? He doesn’t love you, you know. Or anything as special as that.” Her tone seethes, and I know my silence bothers her, given how she just keeps going on with her insults. “You’re not special, you know? So I don’t get what Kayde sees in you.”

Footsteps crunching in the grass catch my attention, so I turn my head just enough to see a pair of sneakers heading toward us, and I’ve seen Kayde’s shoes enough to know it’s him. But now I definitely don’t say anything, because if I’m going to have it out with Darcy, I really don’t want it to be about Kayde. Especially where he can hear me.

“If you say so.” I shrug, and from the corner of my eye, I can see her winding up again, with something that will probably hurt way more than anything before this moment. I can’t help it; my shoulders tense, as if I can brace myself against some physical effect of the blow that’s coming.

“That’s kind of mean, don’t you think?” Kayde’s voice is light and mostly friendly, though when Darcy jerks around to stare up at him, her mouth falls open at the sight.

“I—” Darcy jumps to her feet, nearly tripping, and even in the firelight she looks pale. “I wasn’t?—”

“Yeah, sure you weren’t. Except you sort of were, Darcy.” He steps closer, until they’re almost touching, and a thrill of alarm flickers up my spine. I wonder if I should get up until Kayde glances my way for half a second, at best, and his fingers flick at me dismissively.

He’s telling me not to, and I don’t have it in me to disobey. Especially when it comes to Darcy. I doubt he’s going to stab her or throw her into the fire. Not while people are looking, anyway.

“She’s…” Darcy looks down at me, her eyes anything but friendly. “I don’t get it,” she murmurs at last, closing that last bit of distance between them. “You liked me when you first got here. You were all over me that first day, Kayde. What the hell changed?”

Kayde’s smile is much less friendly now. There’s too much of the real him to be safe, and I fidget again where I sit. “What happened?” he taunts, grinning wolfishly so his white teeth are on display. It makes my neck ache in a way that’s not quite bad, and I fight not to run my fingers along the bandages. “Nothing happened, Darcy. You just mistook me being nice for whatever you wanted to see it as. I was never that interested. Especially after I met Summer.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

My stomach flips, trying to escape my body entirely, and my wide eyes are full of the shock I feel when Darcy glares down at me like I’ve done something wrong. Like I’m the one that’s said those words.

“Don’t look at her.” Kayde’s voice cracks like a whip, irritation whispering at the edges. It does the job, and Darcy’s attention rivets back to the blond. “She didn’t do anything, so don’t you fucking look at her and plan what you’ll do when I leave.” His voice is a soft croon, quiet enough that no one other than us can hear him. “This is all on you. I don’t want you because you’re not my type. You’re hurtful and petty. You’re immature.” His words are too soft to feel like real insults, though they make my stomach curl and writhe, even though I’m not the target of them.

I can’t imagine how Darcy feels.

“You’re a jerk,” she whispers, hands shaking as they ball at her sides. “You’re such a fucking jerk, Kayde?—”

“Don’t curse in front of the kids,” he cuts her off, chastising her like a disappointed parent. “Not in a voice they can hear. Come on, Darcy. This isn’t your first summer camp.” The look of disgust and dismissal he gives her is cold, and I can’t imagine being her right now.

But apparently, she can’t imagine taking more of it, either. Darcy hesitates, wavering, and she starts to look at me one more time before a low sound in Kayde’s throat stops her.

“Fine,” she hisses, stepping over the log and creating distance between them. Though she kicks it on the way, nearly knocking me off balance. I recover, just in time to see her storm away, running into a group of boys, eagerly running to Daniel with something like a pool noodle in their hands.

That can’t be a good sign for the talent show tomorrow.

Kayde’s sigh draws my attention back to him, and without hesitation, he drops onto the log beside me, taking over Darcy’s spot. He rubs his face with the heels of his palms, taking his time, before finally turning to look at me with a baleful, almost apologetic grin. “That was pretty dramatic, don’t you think?” he asks in that sweet, harmless voice of his.

“A little more than dramatic,” I point out, tapping my heels on the dirt in front of me as a particularly loud twig snaps in the fire and sparks flutter upward like a bunch of glowing butterflies.

I’ve always loved campfires. And the embers, as long as they aren’t making a break for my face and causing me to dodge all over the place to avoid getting burned.

“You hurt her feelings pretty badly, you know,” I add, dragging my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. That feeling is back; the guilt of not thanking him earlier. Though right now doesn’t seem to be the best time to bring that up. “She’s not going to come out of her cabin until the kids go home after that.”

“She doesn’t deserve for you to feel sorry for her.” Kayde’s words are mild, though I hear the derision in them. “It’s not your fault she couldn’t let it go. I’ve talked to her twice about this. She should’ve gotten the message before tonight.”

“She likes you,” I can’t help but point out. “She’s been swooning for you since you got here.”

“Sucks for her then, huh?” There isn’t an ounce of pity in his voice.