I once again look at Emilia, mainly searching for confirmation that we’re both experiencing the same thing and I’m not having a weird hallucination. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows are nearly touching she’s frowning so hard.
I decide to be the nominated speaker for the both of us. Clearing my throat, I look back at Xander. “Uh, okay?”
“I don’t know what sordid and creative sexual wizardry Callaghan has promised you to throw the game, but I need you to forget about it. My reputation is on the line here and I need you to be a team player.”
“Rory is very popular with the Titans basketball team, Xan. You don’t have anything to worry about,” Emilia says, stepping just out of my reach when I try to punch her in the arm. “She loves being a team player.”
“Shut up,” I hiss at her. “Xander, I can’t lie. I have zero idea what you’re talking about. I’m not throwing anything, there’s no promises of witchcraft and or wizardry that I’m aware of and, sweetie, I really don’t think it’s that serious. The tournament is supposed to be a bit of fun.”
Somehow—and I truly believe that Xander is probably the one who started it—we’ve ended up involved in a staff basketball tournament this evening. Teams were picked at random using colored pieces of paper in a hat and, much to his absolute delight, Russ is on a team with Clay, while Emilia and I are with Xander and some of the lifeguards. Poor Maya has never played basketball in her life but says she doesn’t care because all the people on her team are tall and, in her book, that automatically makes them good.
“Russ told me you’d agreed to help them cheat.”
That little sneak. “Russ is just getting under your skin, buddy. That’s what you guys do when you play right? Shit talk each other. I haven’t even talked to him properly since this morning.”
My favorite thing is when Russ stops by my cabin on the way back from his morning run before people are up. I sit on his knee or beside him, depending on how sweaty and gross he is, and we watch the sun rise. I’m always half asleep, but I’d definitely remember making a diabolical plan to betray Xander.
“You know you could have just said don’t cheat, right?” Emilia says, looking at her watch. “Could have saved us so much time.”
“If there’s sexual wizardry on offer, I might cheat, Xander. I’m just being honest with you, it is very likely that I’ll be influenced. I don’t even know what it entails, but I know that I want to be a part of it. I’m sure you can respect the difficult position I’m in.”
“I can’t and won’t. I’m not losing to Clay because you’re horny, Aurora,” Xander says sternly.
“If we lose to Clay, it’s because I have to play basketball when I have no hand-eye coordination.” I’m super lazy when it’s on the Brown Bears’ schedule because I just let Xander or Clay take charge. “You need to relax. It’s not going to count against you next season, y’know.”
Xander and Clay both worked here last year, but in different groups, so they weren’t strangers when they were grouped together this year. But last month, on one of the rare occasions I checked my phone, I saw Ryan had text to tell me he signed with LA Rockets.
The guys overheard me tell Emilia and it started a conversation about the NBA. Which then started a further conversation about how Xander and Clay know Ryan because they’ve played against him and, just to add another level, the pair play against each other.
I’ve heard them make subtle digs at each other sometimes, but I’ve brushed it off as guy-nonsense. What I didn’t realize is Stanford and Berkeley are bitter athletic rivals and, apparently, that expands to informal-just-for-fun summer camp basketball.
Ridiculous.
“I’ve seen you play paint-dodgeball. I know there’s nothing wrong with your hand-eye coordination, you Judas.”
“Serious question,” Emilia says, picking up the water bottles we put down when Xander insisted we stopped for an important discussion. “Why are you the way you are?”
He doesn’t answer her, instead opting to explain all the rules of basketball to us while we journey to the water machines and back. By the time we make it back to our group, I’m surprised the kids haven’t passed out from dehydration.
I hand Russ’s bottle to him as his eyebrow quirks. “What took you so long?”
He puts the bottles to his lips, taking a big drink. When his mouth is full, I say my two new favorite words to him. “Sexual. Wizardry.” The water partially sprays out of his mouth, the rest causes him to choke. He bashes his palm against his chest, covering his mouth with his forearm until he eventually stops spluttering. “Need me to put you in the recovery position, Callaghan?”
His eyes are watering and his face is pink, but it doesn’t stop him from beginning to laugh. “I couldn’t help it.”
“I feel like you could definitely help it.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t understand,” he says quietly. “He was being so annoying. He asked me if I was excited to play a real sport. He’s normally so laid back, but competition makes him vicious and I have to live with him.”
“Oh, no.” I pout playfully. “Did the nasty man who chases men for a ball insult you? A man who also chases men for a ball, but on ice?”
“I know you’re just trying to mock me right now, but let me say, you’re really fucking cute when you pout at me like that. But I’m going to need you to confirm for me that you know that there isn’t a ball in hockey. I mean, I’m the goalie, so I don’t technically chase anyone, but if we could start with the ball thing first that’d be great.”
He’s staring at me and, given the fact his face hasn’t recovered from the choking, it’s pretty intense. Just past him I can see some of the boys starting to get into the rock climbing harnesses and they’re definitely not the right ones. “Boys,” I yell, looking past Russ, “not those ones! Let me help.”
Stepping around a still perplexed Russ, I head in the direction of my campers, only getting halfway there before I hear Russ shouting me. “Ror! I just need to hear you say you know it’s not a ball! Just once!”
“Sorry, Callaghan! I don’t negotiate with my competition!” I yell back over my shoulder, smiling to myself when I see Xander immediately start to stomp in Russ’s direction.
There’s a reason I’ve always liked basketball players, but rarely attended basketball games: they’re boring.
Someone—probably Xander—organized the tournament schedule and, at this point, I can’t remember how many games we’ve played. I have no idea if we’re winning or not and although my legs are sore, it’s mainly from running up and down the court while Xander hogs the ball and scores all our points.
The kids are having a blast, cheering and shouting enthusiastically throughout every game, but I have definitely lost interest. I want a hot chocolate. I want to watch a movie. I want to hold a dog while Russ’s hand rests on my thigh under a blanket.
Basically, I’m ready to get my evening back on its regular schedule.
“What if we just refuse to play?” Emilia says, stretching beside me.
“He doesn’t actually need us, so I don’t think that’d work.”
“Protest?”
“Pointless.”
“Fire?”
“Extreme,” I sigh. “I already thought of that one.”
“You know if we went on vacation like I suggested, we could have avoided this,” she says.
“I know,” I say, sighing even more dramatically than the last time. “I already thought of that too.”
The only perk to this whole circus is that Russ is pretty good at basketball and every time he demonstrates that skill, Clay and Xander look really confused and it’s very satisfying to witness. When we play it with the Brown Bears—of course, I say we lightly since I don’t do anything—Russ is concentrating on making sure the kids are all having fun.