Boyfriend for the Summer

“Come on girls,” Seph says, with a warmer smile for me this time. “Put the mats away. It’s time for breakfast.”

It takes all the self-control that I have in the world not to reach out and pull her back for a moment, just to talk. And maybe more. But she goes with her campers, and I’m left staring at her walk away, with her ass in those shorts burned into my memory.

I need to find a way to talk to her. Crack that shell that’s grown around her. Because I know that my Seph is still in there. I know it. That girl who stole my heart six years ago is in there. I can see her just beneath the surface, and I need to tell her that she’s still mine.

5

Persephone

Present

Fucking hell, I need to get it together.

I wasn’t thinking that I was going to see Eric this morning, let alone touch him, and now my brain is all out of sorts. How in the hell am I supposed to do this for two months?

He doesn’t seem to be getting the hint that we shouldn’t talk. There’s a reason that Leena wanted us to cut him out, and if she finds out…

The little voice in my head that says but Leena isn’t here, and they’re not together anymore, is getting louder. But I’m not that person. I don’t betray my friends.

I’ve had the argument with myself a bunch of times. That talking to him wouldn’t be the kind of betrayal that it feels like it is—especially since I knew him first. But I’m not sure how to sort out my feelings about it.

I’m not used to the idea of him even being in such close proximity. And the yoga. Holy shit. First, I’m thinking of killing Emily and the other girls in my cabin. Not seriously, but all they see when they look at Eric is a super-hot older guy. They don’t see our history together and how complicated it is.

They probably could see the tension running between us this morning, even though I did my best to keep it simple and professional. But being close to Eric is like breathing fresh air. It’s invigorating, and even just having my hands on his body has me craving more.

It’s not possible. I know it’s not, but I still want it anyway.

The eggs that are sitting in front of me are no longer appealing. They seem like too much and too heavy. Maybe just a piece of fruit or something. I have a little more than an hour before I have to oversee archery, and even though I just did my full yoga routine, I’m too full of energy. I need to burn of the restlessness from this morning’s encounter. And a swim sounds nice.

I can feel eyes on me from across the dining hall—the same eyes that have been on me since he walked in ten minutes ago. Eric is doing his best to hide it, and so am I, but we’ve been stealing glances at each other, and anyone who’s paying attention would probably see it.

Yeah. Definitely not going to eat eggs right now. I sneak one more glance over at Eric and blush when I find his eyes fixed on mine. If he was just looking at me, maybe that would be different. But it’s the way he’s looking at me that’s the thing. His gaze is full of a hunger that I’m afraid to want, but still do. It’s dangerous. It could consume us both and I know that I’m going to have be the one that keeps us both from burning. I can do that.

I scrape my half-eaten eggs into one of the compost bins and hand over the dishes to the kitchen staff. I spot a bunch of apples in a basket. That sounds fine to my stomach right now. Sure. I can eat a bigger lunch if I’m hungry.

Reaching out, I grab an apple, only realizing after I’ve grabbed it that it was holding up a bunch of the other apples, and they tumble onto the floor with a rumbling sound. The entire room goes quiet for a moment as people look and my whole face and chest flushes red.

I don’t look at Eric. I can’t look at him. Not now.

The sound resumes and the campers and counselors go back to their breakfast, too sleepy or too engrossed in their food to laugh or make a big deal out of it.

I pile the apples back into the basket as quickly as I can before fleeing the dining hall. Escape is the only option. On the way out I grab one of the quick pre-made protein shakes from the counselor’s fridge. Even the apple doesn’t sound appetizing right now.

God, I need to be in the water.

It’s barely been an hour since we finished yoga and the temperature is already spiking. I have enough time, if I hurry. It takes me only a few minutes to throw on my bathing suit and camp clothes over it before heading back out. That’s one of the nice things about swimming in the lake—you don’t have to shower chlorinated water out of your hair.