Not exactly in a position to protest, Camille gives in and allows Isla to lead her away.
I’m left standing a few yards from Ethan, suppressing the ridiculous urge I have to apologize for encroaching on his weekend.
“You were so eager to give up your bunk, now you don’t have anywhere to sleep,” he says with a deep frown.
I force an unaffected shrug. “It doesn’t matter. I know you just want me out of your hair for the weekend. I promise I’ll make myself scarce.”
“That’s not…or rather, I don’t—”
Isla comes up then and hooks her elbow through mine, cutting him off. “Let’s go, Taylor! I have a dress I brought that you’d look amazing in. You’ll have to try it on just to humor me.”
I shake my head, trying to come up with a polite way to tell her to leave me alone, but it’s no use. Ethan’s sister is a force of nature. She drags me all the way to the cabin even as I offer up protests about this weekend, telling her it makes more sense if I hang out by myself, insisting I really don’t want to intrude or make anyone feel awkward.
Camille stays perfectly silent, probably hoping I’ll make good on my promise to disappear. Meanwhile, Isla acts as though she hasn’t heard a single word I’ve said. She just keeps dragging us along like two pieces of luggage she’s hauling through an airport.
As we round the corner and Rose Cabin comes into view, Camille steps away from Isla and frowns.
“This is it?” she asks, visibly disappointed. “When you said cabin, I pictured something bigger.”
“Like what?” Isla asks mockingly. “A resort?”
She shrugs and starts walking toward the steps, more than steady on her feet all of a sudden. It’s a miracle!
Isla and I look toward each other at the exact same moment—thinking the exact same thing—and we both lose it in a fit of laughter.
Still, I force myself to sober up. This is no good. I don’t want to like Isla. It’s an inconvenience to click so well with Ethan’s sister. If anything, my life would be much simpler if she turned sullen and grouchy like her brother. Now there’s a personality I’m accustomed to dealing with.
Isla nods her head toward the cabin and we finish walking up the steps. She pushes open the door and takes off her backpack, dropping it in the corner, out of the way.
“My things are back in the car. I thought one of the guys was going to grab it for me.” Camille frowns, hovering in the doorway, inspecting the space from ceiling to floor as if she’s never seen a piece of architecture like this ever before.
And what’s this charming thing called?
Ah, a log.
“All right, well, we’ll be here when you get back,” Isla says cheerfully, kicking off her sandals and walking over to test out the bottom bunk. The mattress bounces underneath her and she grins.
Camille puffs air out of her nose like a disgruntled bull—a dainty disgruntled bull—and then she’s gone.
Finally.
“Finally!” Isla says, throwing herself back on the mattress.
I suppress a smile. “I take it you and Camille aren’t the best of friends?”
“What gave it away? My snarl or my glare? Truth be told, I wish we’d left her back in Austin, but Liv insisted she come. She’s new to the city and doesn’t have many friends which means we have to try to like her, but between you and me, she’s proving very hard to like. Did you see those shoes?! We’re in the middle of the woods for God’s sake!”
I mash my lips together in an effort to keep my opinions to myself. I don’t feel like it’s my place to gossip about Ethan’s friends. I know he wouldn’t like it.
“So are they dating?” I ask, scratching my wrist then propping my hands on my hips, looking intently at the desk as if hunting for a speck of dirt.
“Who? Jace and Alice?”
“No, uh…Ethan and Camille.”
She jerks back up to a sitting position like someone who’s just been zapped in the chest with defibrillator paddles. Her forehead nearly collides with the bottom of the bunk. “WHAT?! Are you kidding?”
Thank God.
I can’t hide my smile, so I turn away.
“Why would you ever think that?”
“Oh…” I shrug, sounding casual. “Just the way she was holding on to him, and…well, she is beautiful. And delicate, like a china doll.”
“Beautifully annoying. A delicate pain in my ass.”
My smile has turned into a full-fledged grin.
“Besides, she’s not Ethan’s type.”
I whirl around. “What is his type?” My eyes go wide with the realization that I all but shouted the question and I shake my head quickly, stepping back. “No, never mind. Don’t answer that. It’s none of my business.”
She’s the Cheshire Cat with that grin of hers.
“Oh, I’d say spunky brunettes in work boots are more his speed these days.”