Bookishly Ever After (22 page)

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Authors: Isabel Bandeira

BOOK: Bookishly Ever After
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A hand touches my shoulder and I whip around, freezing at the sight of a pair of familiar blue-grey eyes set in a healthily colored face.

“Cyril,” I breathe, and my heartbeat is so loud I’m sure it can be heard even through the mirror. “Please, please tell me this is a dream.”

He frowns and I notice for the first time the faint purpling on his cheek. “I tried to stop him before he could trap—”

“So, you’re counseling, too?” Dev’s voice broke through my reading bubble and my head shot up, a mini heart attack happening in my chest. I hadn’t even noticed him next to me. I threw him a confused look and he waved an orange flyer at me. “For camp? You’re carrying one of these.”

I stared at him dumbly for a second, still half in Marissa’s world.

Say something
, my brain prompted and I sputtered out a barely coherent, “Uh-hrmmm.” I slid the ponytail holder off my wrist and shoved it in the book. My brain turned on again and I snapped the cover shut. There was no way I could let him see the absolutely swoon-tastic first kiss
between Marissa and Cyril, made especially hot because of all the insane sexual tension from a book and a half of not touching, and her fear of being trapped. Dev seeing that wouldn’t be embarrassing at all, never. I pulled the book protectively to my chest. Hopefully, the bright new blush Grace forced on me this morning hid my reddening cheeks.

He didn’t seem to notice my momentary breakdown. “That’s great. I wasn’t going to do it, but Em mentioned to Mr. MacKenzie that I was a scout and he talked me into counseling. Something about how a lot of their senior class first choices had to drop out because of some career fair thing and he had to go with a few junior second picks. He didn’t want to leave the counseling to just you and a bunch of delinquents.”

I finally snapped all the way back to the non-book world, bringing with me a little bit of Marissa’s sass. “Great, so he’s still sticking me with a bunch of delinquents.”

We reached Mr. Cooper’s World History classroom and Dev gestured for me to walk in first. I loved this room. It was the only classroom in the school built auditorium-style, with the seats stepping down to Cooper’s desk and the board. When I came here as a freshman, I loved how it made me feel like I was in a college class instead of honors world history.

I stayed one step ahead of Dev in this weird, everexpanding personal space dance I’d been doing since January. I hesitated, then picked a seat in one of the center rows. Dev followed me, dropping into the seat next to mine. I had to keep reminding myself not to read into anything, and that
this was just Dev being his normal, friendly self. He would do the same to Em or any of the other girls in school.

Dev propped his feet up on the back of the seat in front of him. “At least I’m a requested delinquent. Beggars can’t be choosers, bookworm.” I sat my book on the armrest while digging in my bag for a pen, and he picked it up. “What are you reading now?”

Fear shot through me. I tried to pull it out of his hands, but he twisted so I’d practically have to crawl onto his lap to take the book back.


Hiding
. You wouldn’t like it, it’s nothing like the
Sentinel
series.” It wasn’t like I’d never recommend this series to a guy, but my brain kept bouncing back to what I knew was after that bookmark.

Dev flipped over the dust cover-less hardcover and studied the spine. “I dunno, you have pretty good taste in books.” Then, his fingers moved to the edge of the cover. Even without the help of my makeshift bookmark, I knew right to where the book would fall open. When you reread a scene a million times, the permanent crease in the binding is impossible to fix.

I fought to keep my tone light, not like I was trying to stave off imminent disaster. “No, really, this has no action or anything. It’s not your type of book.” I prayed that it would open to another scene, any other scene.

His eyes scanned the page and I fought to keep myself from sinking through the wood laminate of the chair in shame as his lips quirked up into a wide grin.

“No action, huh?” He propped the book up, reading from it in a voice that made me want to move to a different country where the sound couldn’t dance across my skin. “‘His lips whisper along my jawline and I gasp just before they skim my cheek and brush against mine. I melt into his arms, my hands reaching

’” Dev looked up at me, not even bothering to hide his amusement. “Phoebe Martins, I didn’t know you were into,” he searched for the word, “scandalous books.”

Forget landing in his lap—I lunged, but he held me back with one hand while holding the book out of my reach with his other hand. He read for another second, then turned to look at me with smirk.

“Wow. This author needs a thesaurus. She used ‘sigh’ three times in the same paragraph.” He wiggled the book at me while making a tsking sound. “Definitely looks like a lot of ‘action’ to me.”

“Oh, shut up,” I mumbled, this time succeeding in prying my book from his hands and shoving it none-toogently into my bag. “I read
Sentinel Twenty
. That’s no different than the scene between Sentinel and Guide.” I narrowed my eyes at him like Marissa when she convinced Dan to stop the exorcism, but that didn’t make the amused look on his face go away.

“I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a part where Guide pressed against Sentinel, ‘
feeling every inch of him
.’” He said with air quotes. “What do
you
think that means, exactly?”

Damn, he
had
seen that line. I ducked my head and
hoped my hair would swing forward to hide my burning cheeks, but instead ended up pretending I was picking at something on my jeans when it didn’t. “I…” Thankfully, at that moment, Mr. Cooper and a few teachers I didn’t recognize stood up at the front of the room and called for us to quiet down. Saved by the teachers.

“I’m sure all of you know by now that you have been selected to be counselors at the sixth grade camp in a little over a month. This camp offers a wonderful chance to prepare these now fifth graders for their transition to sixth grade and middle school in the fall.” Mr. Cooper looked around the auditorium and I took the time to do the same. Counting Dev and me, there were about twenty of us. Some of the glitterati sat near the front and outdoor club members were parked in a clump near the middle, sharing a bag of what was probably granola. All juniors, and half of them I wouldn’t trust to watch each other, much less groups of eleven year olds. “Thank you all for offering to be role models for five days. We’ve already spoken with all of your teachers to ensure that you will be able to make up the course work from the week you will be missing.” A groan came from some of the people in the lower rows. “All of you knew that was part of the bargain when you signed up, right?”

One of the heads up front looked familiar and, as he turned to say something to the person behind him, I caught Kris’ profile. Dev and my attempts to avoid him combined with the only other swoonworthy guy in the school? This was bad.

Dev leaned onto our shared armrest. “’
Strong hands running down my back,
’” he said out of the corner of his mouth. Damn, the jerk had some sort of photographic memory.

I sunk lower into my seat, sneaking a glance to the front of the classroom. If Kris heard that, I would melt into a puddle of one-hundred-percent mortified goo. “Shh, they’ll hear you. Delinquent.” Our row shook with his silent laughter.

Mr. Cooper ignored the drama playing up in our rows, looking instead at the groaners. “Obviously, you should know that this isn’t an excuse to slack off from school for a week. You will each be responsible for a cabin of about eight to twelve students and will be paired with a cabin of the opposite sex for meals and events. You and your partner counselor will also be asked to run the camp team-building challenges throughout the week and to assist in some of the camp activities based on your skill sets and certifications. For example, Marcus will man the rock climbing wall,” one of the guys up front high-fived another, “and Phoebe,” I froze at my name, “is running the archery field.”

My stomach turned when every head in the room turned to look at me. This had been a majorly bad idea. Dev nudging me with his elbow didn’t help.

“It will be a lot of work, but you can ask anyone who has been a counselor before—it’s a very rewarding experience.” He started going on about what we’d need to bring and then listed all of the middle school teachers who would be “managing” us during the week, closing with, “Remember,
this isn’t a chance to party in the woods. I expect you all to do Pine Central proud.”

Dev elbowed me again and I shot him a death glare. His teeth practically sparkled, like in a toothpaste commercial. “This is going to be so
rewarding
. Like when Cyril buried his hand in the girl’s hair.”

Part of me wanted to laugh. The rest of me wished I was safely in Zhdanova’s class and had never heard of this camp or Dev or
Hiding.

35

Reaching out, I touch Dan’s elbow with the lightest of touches, pretending to be shy. My lips turn up the tiniest amount that I keep inching up as I talk. “Let’s go to the conservatory.” Letting my voice grow softer, I add, “Unless you want to hang out in my room for other reasons?” The tips of his ears turn red and he quickly shakes his head. Success. –
Marissa,
Hidden

“Score! This sleeping bag is rated to negative twenty degrees,” Alec said, holding up a thick, bright red roll, tossing it into my shopping cart, basketball-style. His voice echoed down the sleeping bag aisle of the camping supplies store.

I checked the tag and nearly had a heart attack. “Holy cannoli, and it’s almost five hundred dollars. My dad said he’d cover reasonable costs.” Alec opened his mouth to speak and I cut him off, pulling the bag out of my cart and shoving it back on the shelves. “There is no way this will ever be considered reasonable.”

Em was further down the aisle, squinting at a sales sign. “This one is fifty dollars on clearance.” Much to Alec’s dismay, I maneuvered the cart away from the expensive bags and towards Em. “Oh, and it comes in teal.” She pulled one of the bags off of the shelf and handed it to me.

The bag was definitely a pretty shade of teal with a grey
flannel lining. I dug my fingers into the side of the roll and it was gloriously squishy.

“Sold,” I said, dropping the bag into my shopping cart.

Alec shook his head. “Teal? You’re picking by color? You two would die within seconds on that Survival reality show.”

“But at least I’d die in my favorite color.” He rolled his eyes at me and I laughed. “You know, if you’re so into this stuff, why didn’t you sign up?”

“I like survivalist stuff, not keeping a bunch of snotnosed little kids from killing each other in the woods for a week.”

“They’re ten and eleven. I think they’re probably past the snotty-nose stage at this point,” Em said, grabbing a teal camp pillow and throwing it in the cart. “Okay, sleeping bag done. What’s next on your list?” We exited the aisle and I started heading towards rows that looked like they had even more camp-ish stuff.

Alec stopped us, waving something he picked up off of an end cap. “Damn, a Swedish fire knife. That would be awesome. You have to get it.”

Em snatched it out of his hands and started studying the back of the box. “What does it do?”

“It’s a knife, but it also has a Swedish fire steel inside it. You can cut yourself out of bad situations and start a fire.” Alec took back the box and pet it like it was the One Ring.

I shook my head and kept pushing the cart forward. “I don’t plan on needing to start a fire in the near future.”

We were halfway into the next aisle before I saw him
reluctantly put back the box and jog up alongside us. “What if you got lost in the woods and had to fend for yourself?”

“This is Camp Sundew. Not the Arctic or the Serengeti. I’m pretty sure I won’t get lost.”

He shook his head. “It’s your funeral.”

“C’mon. I’m sure there are matches there. And when will I ever need to start a fire?” I gave Alec a grin. “And me, with a knife? Bad idea. But thanks, oh guru of camping.”

“Somebody called for a camping guru?” A somewhat familiar voice came from behind me.

I turned around slowly, trying not to let any of my surprise show. Kris was leaning against a wall of shelves, carrying one of those camp lanterns. I choked back my initial urge to hide. “Kris?”

He glanced at my friends and full cart. “Getting supplies for camp?”

Something had to be off in the universe—Kris talking to me more than once even though he didn’t have to? Marissa would totally use this as an opportunity to set the stage for future flirting success, like the scene in
Hidden
where she tried to distract Dan away from the mirror. I nodded and fortunately, Alec answered while I tried to reassemble my brain and come up with something coherent.

“Trying to. Someone’s ignoring all of my legit survival advice.”

Okay, Marissa always found some excuse to touch a guy’s arm and then play to his strengths. I reached out and tapped the hand Kris was using to hold the lantern.

“Alec thinks I’m going to get lost. Maybe I should get one of those, too, so I don’t get stuck somewhere at night?” I felt stupid letting my hand linger a little bit longer than necessary, but I counted to two before pulling my hand back. My fingers still tingled slightly from the contact.

“Nah, I’m just getting this because my flashlight sucks when it comes to lighting up the cabin. I’ve been camping in that place a million times. The paths are all well marked. It’s hard to get lost unless you really want to.” He smoothed back his dark hair, confidence practically pouring out of him, looking just like Aedan before a battle.

I looked up at Kris, blinking in what I hoped was a cute way and let a slow smile spread across my face. Marissa would totally let the tiniest bit of breathiness enter her voice at this point. “You’ll have to teach me everything you know when you get the chance. I haven’t been camping in forever.” I copied his stance, trying to do that social mirroring thing Grace had mentioned.

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