Page 26 of Forever is the Sweetest Con
“Ahem.”
Sue-Ellen is standing over us, one eyebrow raised. “Sorry to interrupt,” she says, shooting daggers at me, “but I was just hoping, Isa, that we could finish our conversation from earlier?”
Fucking Sue-Ellen. I lean in close and gently nip his earlobe. He sucks in a sharp breath. “And we can continuethislater,” I whisper. I stand, theatrically smoothing down my hair and fixing my clothes, so there’s no doubt in Sue-Ellen’s mind what we’ve been up to. “He’s all yours.” I feel her scowl at my back as I walk away.
In the darkness of the beach path, I’m unsure of my footing, making me feel even more drunk than I actually am. I pause, willing my eyes to adjust to the dim light, and that’s when I hear a voice in the woods.
“We can’t adjust the production schedule again,” the voice says. It’s a man’s voice. Familiar.
I squint, trying to find the source of the voice, and through the trees I can pick out his shape. The swoop of hair, the pointy goatee, the skinny jeans. The glow of a cell phone.
Tyler.
I hold my breath, craning my neck to hear more.
“The network won’t…exhausted all fundraising options…Natasha said she…”
What? What did Natasha say? I take a step closer, and as I do, my foot lands on a stick, cracking it in half. The sound rings out like a shot, and Tyler’s head snaps up. “Who’s there?” he calls.
I duck. Shit.
“Hello?” he calls again. After a moment of silence, the low mumble of his voice resumes. I crab-walk for a few feet, and then I burst into a sprint the rest of the way.
I don’t know why I don’t want him to see me. It’s not like I was doing anything wrong. I could have just apologized for the interruption and carried on. But he so obviously didn’t want to be seen, and I didn’t want to ruin his illusion of privacy.
Or maybe it’s just the punch.
Chapter Eleven
The ringing of the bell comes too early the next morning.
“Qué coño?” Isa groans, rubbing his eyes. I peek at him through squinted eyes. He climbed in with me the night before, like it was a given, but we kept things pretty PG. I’d lose the entire Bible Belt if I put out on the first night.
Even rumpled from sleep, Isa is gorgeous. He throws an arm back over me and snuggles in close. “I don’t feel so good,” he mumbles.
Me neither. There is a rancid taste in my mouth, and my head feels like it’s being cleaved in half.
““What time is it?” Harmony asks, her voice cracking.
“Too early,” moans Damian from under a pillow.
“Morning everyone.” The light in the bunkhouse darkens as Kei’s frame fills the door. “I made breakfast, if anyone is hungry.”
What’s with this guy? He was hitting the punch as hard as anyone else—no one is that nice. Then again, he hasn’t exposed me as the liar that I am. Maybe I shouldn’t hold his poor taste in footwear against him.
“Bro, you’re a legend,” Giovanni says, swinging his legs over the side of his top bunk and hopping down.
We dress quickly, loop our mics around our necks, and head for the Mess Hall. The smell of bacon and butter hits me before I even get to the door. Inside, along the back counter, there are plates piled high withstacks of golden pancakes, bacon and sausages, and bowls of berries, whipped cream, and maple syrup.
“Letter K! Letter K!” Damian starts the chant and we all join in as we fill our plates, hoping to feed our hangovers into submission. Kei’s cheeks redden, and he smiles at the floor.
“Good morning, campers!” Gabby calls from behind a large box she’s carrying. “Girls on one side and boys on the other, please!” Gabby sets the box down on the counter, and watches over us like a mother hen as we shift, directing all of the girls to squeeze in at one table. “Cheers to Kei for preparing this amazing breakfast,” she says, pulling a bottle from the box and holding it aloft.
“To Kei!” we all respond, clinking our plastic glasses of juice over the middle of the table. I glance over at Kei. His eyes meet mine, and he smiles. I raise my glass in his direction.
“Just don’t fill up, because I have thesedelicioussmoothies from our sponsor, Protein Period. I want to see you drinking them, and talking about how amazing they are, and how they have forty grams of protein per serving, okay?” Gabby hands a bottle to each of us. “Also, we need you to be spilling the tea on your relationships! Harmony, you lead that conversation for the girls, and Damian, you do it for the guys, okay? Let’s have another amazing day at Camp Couple-Up!”
After a feeble round of cheering, I tuck into my breakfast. The pancakes are delicious, crispy around the edges and fluffy on the inside. And baconandsausages? What am I, a queen or something?
