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She gives me another quick hug, then sashays out the door. I check my own cell one more time, but still nothing.
Standing, I decide to hit the restroom before heading home. I toss my cup into the trash and make my way down the narrow hallway to the lone bathroom. Knocking, I try the door, but it’s locked.
“Just a sec,” a voice calls out and I slump back against the wall, waiting. I stare at the bulletin board directly in front of me, taking up most of the wall space. A flyer for summer camp’s pinned to the board next to another advertising a new dog-walking service. A poster for the local art show next week hangs in the corner and next to it is a bright yellow sheet of paper.
Love to read? Have book recs you want to share? Come join the team at the library! We’re looking for part-time help this summer at the Thunder Creek branch. Position available immediately.
A fringe of identical phone numbers hangs off the ad, begging to be pulled.
What the hell. I’ve been sitting around my dad’s house moping for far too long. I do love the library–reading’s totally my jam–and there aren’t a ton of job prospectsavailable within a fifty-mile radius. Maybe this is exactly the type of thing I need right now. Low-stress but fulfilling and also kind of fun. Plus, I’m not exactly dying to leave Thunder Creek, given the current Cam situation. Gracelyn got that part right, at least.
Tearing off a sunshiney rectangle with the number to the local library, I shove the paper in my pocket.
CHAPTER 8
CAM
Ihaven’t been to a bonfire out at the lake in years, probably since the summer after graduation. When Sloane asked me to go with her tonight, my gut response was ‘Pass.’ The last thing I want to do is go hang out with my old buddies and shoot the breeze, answering a million and one questions about my career that’s teetering on the line. But she looked so hopeful and enthusiastic about the damn thing, I didn’t have it in me to let her down.
So now we’re bumping along the red dirt road that leads to the lake in my Rover, rust-colored dust swirling in tiny cyclones even though I’m barely hitting twenty miles per hour. Sloane’s window is rolled down, one arm slung out the window, and she’s singing at the top of her lungs to some shitty pop song I’ve never heard. If it were anyone else, I would veto the terrible music selection, but she’s so cute sitting in the passenger seat with her head thrown back, not a care in the world.
I wonder what that’s like, not caring. The only time Iever have that sensation is right after a win. The rest of the time, I’m wound tight with anxiety, like one of those rubber band balls people keep on their desks. Worry wrapped around worry, pressure and tension holding everything together.
Not Sloane.
Her face is relaxed, fingers tapping on her thigh to the quick beat of the song. Her hair’s blowing in the breeze, dark strands flying around her tanned, bare shoulders. She glances over at me, the corners of her pink lips tipping into a slow smile.
“What?” she asks, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.
“Nothing. I was just thinking about the last time I was out here. Had to be the summer after graduation.”
“Probably. The night Nick swam across the lake naked?”
I chuckle, picturing my buddy Nick’s ghost-white ass bobbing in the dark water.
“Then Brayden shouted at him about gators and he totally freaked.” Sloane shakes her head. “That was a dick move. Nick almost had a panic attack. I don’t think the guy’s been back in the lake since.”
“I mean, Brayden probably wasn’t wrong. I’m sure there are gators in the lake. Not the brightest idea to swim across at midnight buck naked. Especially drunk.”
“Yeah, we were dumb kids back then.” Sloane’s gaze drifts out the window as the water comes into view, golden rays of the sunset shimmering on the flat surface of the lake.
I pull the Rover up next to a black pickup and throw the vehicle into park, joining the neat line of cars—at least twenty so far and counting.
The knot of anxiety in my gut tightens as I take in the gathering crowd and I inhale a deep breath.
I can do this.
So what if I got cut. I’m between teams right now, waiting to hear back on the next great opportunity.
What that opportunity will be and where it will take place, I’m not sure, but that’s the line I’m running with all night.
“Hey, you okay?” Sloane squeezes my forearm and I relax my grip on the wheel, focus on the touch of her delicate fingers against my skin.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I inhale, long and slow, then exhale a tiny bit of anxiety.
Thump, thump, thump.
The entire vehicle shakes and I scowl, glancing out the windshield at Nick’s sunburned face pressed against the glass. He’s grinning at us, screwing up his mouth and sticking out his tongue. Classic Nick. Clearly hasn’t matured much in the last decade.
