Aurora leans back, putting some distance between our bodies so she can look at my face, but keeping her feet crossed at the bottom of my back. “It could be a shark.”
I can’t help but snort. “It’s not a shark. We’re in freshwater. We’re also in California.”
“Bull sharks are diadromous, they can survive in freshwater.” My eyebrow quirks. “What? I watch shark week.”
“If it’s a bull shark, sorry to be the one to tell you, but you’re screwed.”
She grins as her hands link at the nape of my neck. “If it’s a bull shark, we’re both screwed because I’m dragging you with me. You’re bigger, you’ll taste better.”
“Trust me, you taste incredible.”
I stun us both. I didn’t mean to say it out loud. Her eyes flick to my lips, then back to my eyes and her breathing slows. “Oh,” is the only thing she says and that response is enough to pray it is a shark and it’s about to save me from myself.
Chapter Thirteen
AURORA
Two years away had made me forget how much I truly love Honey Acres.
After completing our week of training with minimal further incident or embarrassment, our campers arrived a few days ago, full of excitement and trepidation, but mainly sugar, and I feel like my feet haven’t touched the ground since.
I’ve traveled to so many different places with Formula One, experienced some of the best the world has to offer, and this dot on a map in the middle of nowhere in California is my favorite place on Earth.
It makes me feel so content, watching the people I’ve gotten to know become comfort counselors for kids, some of whom are away from home for the first time. It’s only been a few days, but I finally feel like I’m doing something with purpose. I’ve been so tired and busy it hasn’t occurred to me to check my cellphone and after Russ and I finally cleared the air, I spend my brainpower thinking about how to make things the most fun and not overthinking.
I’ve already replaced Emilia with two new best friends, Freya and Sadia, two eight-year-olds in our group, because they said they liked my freckles and I’m really tall. It’s nicer than Emilia has ever been to me, so she’s out. She totally understood when I told her and confirmed she’s also replaced me with Tammy, a nine-year-old fellow ballerina, who, in the few days she’s been here, has not attempted to hurdle the ballet barre.
Xander and Russ watched Emilia and I argue playfully for five minutes, heads moving between us like they were watching a tennis match until Xander finally wrapped an arm around Russ and declared he’d never replace him.
Russ has been the most relaxed I’ve seen him in the past few days. He’s amazing with each and every kid in our group, knowing exactly what to say or do to get them involved or bring them out of their shell. I’m careful not to stare in awe too much because kids at this age notice absolutely everything and the last thing I need is to be hounded about whether he’s my boyfriend.
There are twenty campers, aged eight to ten, in our Brown Bears group and, what I apparently didn’t consider before asking for this age group, is eight-to ten-year-olds are really fucking nosey. It’s tricky territory for me, a chronic over-sharer desperate for any kind of acceptance she can get, but I’ve managed to keep my mouth closed so far. Plus, Russ has no intention of being my boyfriend given his love of rule keeping. Not that I want him to be my boyfriend, but an only semi-celibate summer would be nice.
Only eight and a bit more weeks to go.
The kids are currently having an hour break after lunch to keep them out of the sun at the hottest time of the day and give them a chance to wind down after a morning of horse riding, archery and volleyball. Making my way across the camp, I immediately spot Russ and Emilia watching something near the Brown Bears’ cabin.
“What’re you doing?” I ask as I approach the two of them. I’m immediately greeted with shushing. Russ points toward a shaded area beside the cabin, where several of our campers appear to be coordinating a routine of sorts. Blocking the sun from my eyes with my hand, we watch in silence for two minutes before I’m asking again. “What’re you doing?”
“We’ve been trying to work out what they’re doing for five minutes,” Emilia clarifies. “But we can’t work out if they’re playing together or they’re plotting to take over a small country.”
“Maybe it’s a ritual.” Russ offers, shrugging when I glare at him, confused.
“You two should not be left in charge of children. They’re clearly practicing for the end of summer talent show. They must have been here before. Smart to get a head start. We should have done that.”
“Sorry, back up,” Russ says, stepping in front of me to stare down from all of his six-foot-five, eyebrows pinched together. “Why should we have done that?”
I lower my hand. “My favorite thing about you is you’re big enough to block out the sun.”
Emilia shuffles closer to me, standing in the shade Russ creates. “Oh, you really are.”
“Aurora, why did you say we should have been practicing? Practicing what exactly?”
“Did Xander not tell you about the talent show? Everyone has to do something, including the counselors. They’ll announce it on Sunday most likely, that’s what they used to do when I was here.”
I’ve never seen him so distressed and I’ve just spent a week watching him awkwardly stumble his way through compulsory sharing about himself. His jaw is tight as he chews the inside of his cheek and I struggle to stay focused on his concern as my mind begins to wander to the image of him dancing on a stage.
“Are you gonna throw up?” Emilia asks, taking a step away from us.
“I have no talent,” he says.
I want to tell him that’s not true, since I’ve personally witnessed what he can do with his mouth, but that is counterproductive to our fledgling friendship.
“I’m sure you do,” I offer. “What about hockey?”
“I can’t play hockey at a talent show. Can I cheer you on from the audience? It’s better for everyone if I’m not involved.”
“No, you have to do it. I love the talent show. I look forward to it all summer. The kids do too.”
He sighs, tilting his head back to the sky before looking at me again. “It’s really important to you?”
I nod. “I was tutored when I was younger because we traveled with my dad’s job. I didn’t have school plays and talent shows. This was the only chance I had and it made me feel less lonely.”
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Promise?” I ask, holding out my pinky. “You have to come to all the rehearsals.”
He links his with mine. “Promise.”
“That was Aurora’s really wholesome way of emotionally blackmailing you into participating, Russ, and you fell for it,” Emilia says. “Have you considered showing hockey through the medium of contemporary dance?”
“You’re the goalie, right?” His distress switches to surprise and he nods. “I’ll throw stuff at you and you can block it. There. Talent.”
Dragging a hand through his hair, it travels to the back of his neck, digging his fingers into his skin to ease out tension. “Why does this feel like you just want to throw stuff at me?”
“You know her so well,” Emilia jokes, turning her back to us to watch the kids dancing around again.
Russ smiles, the dimples of his cheeks making me lose my train of thought until he speaks again. “Maybe that’s my talent.”
“You don’t need to feel nervous,” I say quietly so only he can hear me.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
After a week of settling in, camp is in full swing and my soccer elective sign-up sheet is almost full. I’m buzzing with excitement.