The Player Hater (Accidentally in Love 1)

“So what are our options?”

A hmm sound comes from his throat. “I don’t know, maybe we should Google it.”

Google it? Is he being serious?

I pull my phone out of my back pocket and Google ‘things to do at campgrounds’.

“What does it say?” He’s leaning over now, invading my personal space, smelling woodsy and fresh and really, really good smelling.

“Um….. Read books and magazines.” I hold up my book to show him that was on my list of things to do.

“A romance novel? I wouldn’t have taken you for a romance novel girl.”

“What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean—you seem more like a crime and murder kind of person.”

I have no idea if that’s meant to be a compliment or not, but I’m going with not.

“Gee, thanks.”

Davis isn’t picking up on my sarcasm, and nods. “What else can we do?”

“Besides ask Ben?” I consult the list on my phone. “Read out loud to each other.”

Davis laughs, snatching the book from my hand and flipping it over, so he can peruse the description on the back, reading it out loud. “I would do anything for my best friend. Well. Almost anything. When she begs me to come on a weekend getaway, so I can bond with her new boyfriend, I can’t say no—no matter how badly I want to. After all, who will keep an eye on the guy; he’s your stereotypical, professional football player—emphasis on player—and I don’t trust him with my friend’s heart.”

He bursts into pealing laughter, tears actually forming in his eyes. “What is this crap? It’s killing me.”

I snatch the book back from him, glaring.

“Can you imagine reading that out loud to me?”

“No—you’re very rude.” Nonetheless, my eyes go back to the list. “Crafting, knitting, sewing.” I roll my eyes. “Board games? Puzzles.” Okay, that might not be the worst idea—I could do a board game. I kick ass at Scrabble and Monopoly…

“Does that seriously say ‘Make up stories to tell each other’?”

“I assume they mean around the campfire.”

“This is the worst fucking list, with the worst fucking ideas, I’ve ever seen in my life. Who wrote this, a ten-year-old at sleep-away camp?”

I wish he would stop reading over my shoulder and breathing into my ear.

“What kind of ideas were you going for, Sparky? Cliff diving, cave exploring?”

“Uh—yeah, those are exactly the kind of ideas I was looking for, smart ass. Who wants to sit around and crochet when they could be diving off a cliff?”

“Well you just said it was too cold to swim, so…yeah.” I would literally shit my pants if I had to jump from a cliff into a watery grave, so bless his heart for being a wuss.

“Does that say skipping stones? I did that already.”

That causes me to look up at him. “You did? When?”

“When we first got here, I was bored.”

Huh. Interesting.

“Disc golf, lawn bowling, horseshoes, tennis, badminton.” He glances around. “Why do they have none of those things.”

“We’re supposed to be roughing it.”

“Um, I’m sorry, but that tent Thad is staying in cannot, by any stretch, be considered roughing it.”

“I meant us. They’re doing this to torture us.”

Davis nods. “Sounds accurate. I’ve barely seen either of them and it’s getting on my last nerve.”

“Well we only have one night left, and then we can go back to the real world where there are snacks, Wi-Fi and activities.”

His nose is in my hair as he asks, “What the fuck is spelunking?”

We search for that definition, too. “Spelunking, known as caving, is an increasingly popular sport—you walk, climb or crawl blindly into the darkness with only a headlamp, spiders, and bats for company. The difficulty level and danger, not unlike hiking or rock climbing, varies widely.”

“Dude, that sounds awesome.”

“Really Davis? Does it?” Because to me it sounds like hell on earth and if that’s something he wants to do today, he can do it by his own self, thankyouverymuch.

“Relax, Juliet, I wasn’t suggesting we do it today, I just said it sounded awesome.” He ruffles my hair. “Oh look—the list says we can catalog rocks.”

“No.”

“Bug collecting?”

“Immediately no.”

“Nature gathering, searching for wild berries, nuts and other edible plants.”

“This is the nerdiest list I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” I muse. “Although we could play hide-and-seek. You hide, I’ll seek you…in about five hours.”

“Har har.” He chuckles. “You’d kill me with wild berries, for sure.”

“Oh absolutely!” I grin, enjoying the banter. “Swing in a hammock, watch the breeze blowing the trees that sounds like it would be fun for about thirty seconds.”

“You have no patience.”

“Fine—you go swing in the breeze and watch trees blow.”

“Daydream and let your mind wander,” he reads aloud.

“I already do that, like—every single day.” In fact, if I got paid to let my mind wander, I’d be rich and living in London, having high tea every day and eating bon-bons.