Sailor Proof (Shore Leave 1)

“I know.” Derrick squeezed my upper arm. “And I think you will.”

My gaze returned to Derrick, and he met my eyes, an unexpected seriousness there, as if he actually understood what I was trying to accomplish here. Having someone in my corner made my chest tight. Wanting to convey how much the support meant to me, I leaned in so I could—

“Load up, hikers!”

Poof. The moment evaporated in a flurry of activity, the soft kiss I’d intended another casualty of Euler family enthusiasm.

“This waterfall better be worth it,” I grumbled as I followed Derrick and the others to the ancient camp bus. At least I got to sit next to Derrick. Maybe this wouldn’t be terrible.

“Who wants a song?” my mom chirped once the bus was underway. On second thought, maybe it would be exactly as interminable as I feared. Sure enough, Mom’s attention landed on me. “Arthur! Maybe you could teach the kids the words to that bear song we used to do when you kids were little.”

“I don’t know—”

“Go on.” Derrick nudged me. “I wanna see this.”

“Okay.” I did it because Derrick was watching, and he was possibly the only person here who laughed with me, not at me. Making him smile at the antics of the kids and me was worth any temporary humiliation on my part. I was good at all the old camp songs, even if they weren’t to my musical taste at all, and I taught the kids a couple more before we arrived at the trailhead.

The trail took us deep into the rain forest on a soft, boggy trail lined with lots of moss-covered evergreen trees and assorted ferns and other greenery. It was another sunny day, but the forest was dense enough to be dark and cool. Wooden guardrails rimmed the more difficult sections of trail and also gave the kids ample opportunity to attempt to climb to their doom. Eventually, though, we reached the first waterfall with everyone in the hiking party still intact.

“Wow.” Derrick’s low whistle at the narrow but towering waterfall made heat unfurl in my gut. Of course, everything the guy did that morning reminded me of sex, whether it was breathing hard on a steeper section of trail or making happy noises at some pretty sight. “Now, that’s worth the trip.”

He gestured at the waterfall as the rest of the family snapped pictures.

“It’s pretty, but I’d still rather be working on my wish list of things to try,” I whispered.

“If we were alone, I’d drag you behind that waterfall and—”

“Whee!” Some of the kids raced between us, taking advantage of the lull in action to play tag.

“Better be careful.” Derrick stopped one of the smaller girls before she could duck under the guardrail. “Don’t want to slip off the trail. You’ll end up all muddy.”

“I don’t mind!” She squished her feet in the soft earth on the side of the trail, and I had to laugh as all the nearby kids did the same thing.

“Better watch it. You’re giving them big ideas.”

“Probably.” There was a softness around Derrick’s smile that I’d never seen before. And then he went and grabbed my hand while I was still trying to figure him out.

“Hey, what’s that?” I glanced down at our linked hands.

He shrugged, but a faint pink stain spread across his chiseled cheekbones. “It’s called being an attentive boyfriend.”

“Ah.” I didn’t pull my hand away, but I also didn’t like the weird flippy sensation in my stomach. I was no longer sure what was real and what was an act. When we were alone, every look and touch felt important, as real as life could be, but then we’d end up around the others again, and I’d lose my ability to judge. And what was worse was that I’d asked for this, begged for it. If Derrick was an amazing fake boyfriend, it was all my doing.

I couldn’t change the rules on him now, so there was nothing to do but squeeze his hand, try to enjoy the sweetness of the gesture.

He was still looking at me a little funny, that softness around his eyes lingering along with his blush. “Arthur—”

“Group picture time!”

I groaned because chances were high that I’d never find out what he’d been about to say. Another missed moment in the name of family togetherness. But if he could be a good sport, so could I. Following him over to the tree where my mom stood, I squashed in alongside Calder and Oliver.

“Everyone squish!” Aunt Sandy demanded as she waved her professional-grade camera at us. “Closer!”

“Arthur, dude, you’re on my foot,” Calder complained as I dutifully shuffled inward.

“Quit whining.”

“Boys!” Turning her head, my mom gave a sharp bark in our direction before returning to smile sweetly for Sandy.

“He started it!” Calder and I said at the same moment, like we were little again. We both laughed, but it was absurd how a few days together peeled back the years and exposed old rivalries.