“Where did you come from?” I ask, because when Pete’s around, the thoughts that pop into my head have a nasty habit of slipping right out of my mouth.
“Syracuse, originally,” he says with one of those infuriating grins. “So, anything you need?”
“No,” I answer without bothering to consult Davis.
Pete’s not paying much attention to my partner, either. “We’ve got a fifteen-minute break, then we’ll gear up for the swim.”
Davis and I nod, following our class out of the water. For some reason, Pete’s on my heels as we head to our cubbies for water and snacks.
“I have sunscreen if you need it,” he says, holding out a bottle and tilting it in my direction.
The sun is beating down, so it wouldn’t be a terrible idea to layer on some protection, but there’s no way I’m asking Pete to put his paws on me.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I insist, pretending to be preoccupied with my water bottle. Does this man not realize that I’m avoiding him? Can he not, for one freaking second, play along?
“Are you sure? It sets in about ten minutes and it’s waterproof.”
My steely gaze meets his warm brown eyes. “I’m fine. Thanks.” To punctuate my point, I take one last gulp of water before stowing my bottle, grabbing my camera, and walking toward the water’s edge. A few other students are congregated there, and we help each other into our life jackets. Soon enough, it’s time to wade into the water.
The next hour of my life is magical. The pics I get are worth every pennyThe Howler’sbudget shelled out for mywaterproof equipment. Ten-year-old me is realizing her dreams and twenty-two-year-old me gets to write about it.
After our dolphin adventure, we break for lunch, and then the remainder of our session is spent learning about the marine habitat and how best to protect it. We take some water and kelp samples, and once again, I’m happy to pair up with Davis. Pete’s busy helping other groups, but Davis and I can both read and follow directions, so we’re not nearly as needy as our classmates. And ok, maybe I’m too stubborn to ask for help from Pete, but then again, I don’t really need it.
By the time our samples and reports have been turned in, I’m sandy, sweaty, and probably smelly. While half my class is content to stand around and chat, I’m in dire need of a shower, so I grab my bag and my water bottle, and head back to my dorm. Mandi’s nowhere to be found, but that means I’ll have the room all to myself, so I’m not complaining. Our bathroom is miniscule and our shower is laughably small, but the water is warm and the pressure is decent, so I step inside the tiny stall and peel my swimsuit off. I rinse it thoroughly before draping it on the hook some savvy former student left behind. Tilting my head back, I let the water run through my hair before adding a few squirts of shampoo and going about my shower routine. By the time I’m rinsing out my conditioner, the water is pelting my back and shoulders. By the time I’m done washing my body, my arms are red and angry.
I towel off gently and brace myself to look in the mirror. Shit. My face is pink and a little splotchy, but my arms and shoulders make me look more like a lobster than a human. And based on how sore my back is, I’d bet it’s in roughly the same shape. I slather on a little lotion everywhere my arms can reach, but damn it, moving hurts. AndI’m not entirely sure what soothing qualities my Primrose Valley body cream has. I’m pretty sure its only job is to smell good. And right now, my only job is to lie on my stomach and curse the sun.
5
Pete
“Dude, you cannot set up cameras inside the hockey house. Do you know how creepy and probably illegal that is?” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I brace myself for Ollie’s counter argument as I make my way toward Claire’s dorm.
“It’s not illegal,” my fellow defenseman insists. “At least, I don’t think it is. Maybe we’ll just get some facial recognition software. And anyway, it’s for a good reason. I’m telling you, Norris has his girl here. I’d bet money on it. No one has actually seen her, but there are definite sex noises coming from his room and the bathroom smelled like strawberries this morning.”
“To be fair,” I say, scanning my badge to get into Claire’s building, “there are sex noises coming from a lot of the guys’ rooms. Jacking off is nothing new, Olls.”
“No shit, Cap,” he drawls. “But tell me this, when you jerk it, do you moan in your regular voice and then moan again in a high-pitched, breathy voice?”
“Ok, so he’s probably not alone. But that doesn’t mean you can mount nanny cams throughout the house.”
“I wouldn’t have to resort to these measures if our boy would just come clean. And why is he being so secretive? Why won’t he just introduce us to his girl?”
“Because he wants to keep dating her?” I ask. “We’re a good time, Ollie, but you’ve gotta admit, our crew takes some getting used to. If he’s really into this girl, he might want to lock things down with her before he introduces her to his crazy family, aka us.”
“Errrr,” Ollie imitates a buzzer on a gameshow. “Incorrect. The reason he doesn’t want us to know who he’s with is because we already know her.”
“Uh…we do?”
“Yep. And he definitely should not be dating her.”
“Why’s that?” I ask, taking the stairs two at a time until I reach the fourth floor.
“Because it’s Fallon.”
It takes a minute for Ollie’s words to register, not only because I’m scanning room numbers, but also because what he just said is batshit. “Fallon?”
“Yes, Fallon Zabek. Beloved sister of our other captain and the girl who is totally off-limits to all of us. It has to be her. It has to. The bathroom smelled like strawberries. And one time when I went to The Chapel for dinner, Fallon was there, and Whit made cheesecake for dessert…with strawberries.”
