The last boy—a camper whose name I don’t know—steps up and aims. He does his best, but I can tell that he’s new to this, and his shot goes wide. It hits in the outside circle, and all the girls erupt in cheers. We’re tied.
It’s down to me and Eric now. I look over. “One shot or best of three?”
There’s a chorus of ‘best of three,’ and Eric shrugs as he steps up to the plate. We did plenty of archery together, and he’s definitely good. I have no idea how often he’s been practicing, so I’ll take nothing for granted.
Eric pulls back on his first shot, and I’m distracted by his arms. Nothing but corded muscle is there, flexing as he pulls the string back and aims. I can imagine those arms in a very different context, and I force myself to take a deep breath. I’m not the only one who notices the way his shirt pulls tight over his shoulders. There are definitely whispers around me from the girls. I can’t even blame them.
He fires a little high, and it’s a decent arrow. The second shot—equally as distracting to me— lands to the left of the bullseye. And the last one is right down the middle. The smile he shoots me is full of heat and daring. He wants me to do better. And I’m not going to let him win just for the hell of it.
I step up to the plate and tune out the sounds around me, focusing on nothing but me and the target. I sense the air and the way it’s flowing. The angle of the target and myself. All these things that I’ve been trained to do over the years that happen almost reflexively.
Archery is a paradox. Because in order to hit the bullseye, you can’t aim at it. You have to aim above it and take into account the speed, quality of the air, and the fall of the arrow. I take a deep breath, pull, aim, and release in one smooth motion.
It lands true, and relief pours through me. One down.
The second shot veers a little to the right, but it’s still close. I know it’s the last shot that’s tricky, because I have to avoid the two other arrows. I hold my breath and pick where I want it to land. There’s a tiny breeze, and I adjust, and feel when I need to release the string.
The arrow slices through the air and lands exactly where I want it to: right next to my first arrow. I did it.
The whole group of girls screams and mobs me, because it’s clear who the winner is. My grouping is clearly closer.
The boys look disappointed, but Eric has a grin on his face that’s so wide I think that his face might split open. “Class dismissed,” he says, nodding his head toward the dining hall. “I owe you a coke.”
It’s hotter than hell right now, and after that and having to watch him and those delicious arms, I’m not going to say no. “I need one, and I won’t turn down a free drink.”
The ancient soda machine is right outside the camp director’s office and cabin. I think it was originally placed there way back when because it was one of the first buildings with electricity in the camp. But now it’s more so kids don’t try to shake soda out of it. Most of the campers here are good kids, but you never know.
Following Eric has its advantages. Namely watching his ass in those jeans. Being close to him today. The yoga. The archery. Now. It’s not doing anything good for my self-control. When we reach the machine I have to pretend that I haven’t just been checking him out.
Eric puts in quarters for him and for me and hands me the drink when it spits out of the machine. I lean against the wall of the cabin and he leans against the machine. We’re both panting a little in the heat, but I’m unwilling to move farther away from him. My brain is not cooperating with the need to stay away.
Resisting is exhausting, and being here with him is making me fall back into our old, easy patterns like nothing ever happened. “Is this the same machine?” I ask. It looks like the same one, but that machine was ancient even then, and I would have thought it would be replaced by now.
“It’s the same one, yeah.”
I laugh. “It’s probably as old as we are.”
“Just about,” he sighs, and his whole body seems a little heavier. “Same with the bus. I should replace them. Would if we could, but the camp really can’t afford it right now. If we want to pay our staff, upgrades aren’t in the books right now.”
“Really? Why?”
He shrugs, and gives me a carefree smile that I don’t think is the whole truth. “You know how it is. It’s been a hard couple of years.”
We’re silent for a moment, and this feels a little like it used to. Cicadas sing and the noise of the campers travel to us from the distance. The cold of the soda is good, in the heat—burning even though we’re in the shade.
“I miss this,” Eric says. “Days like this.”
“What do you mean?” I suspect that I already know, but I want to hear him put a voice to it.
“I mean when life was simpler and easier. When there were less things to worry about.”
“Are things that bad?” I ask, studying him.
He turns his body fully toward mine and takes a step closer. “Not right now,” he says softly. “Not with you.”
I can’t say anything, because I’m struggling to breathe. Taking a sip of coke, I pretend that he isn’t affecting me at all. It doesn’t work.
“Seph,” he says, using my nickname even though I told him not to. I can’t imagine him using anything else in this moment. “I’ve never forgotten that summer, you know.”
“Oh?” I look away, and he guides my gaze back to his with a brush of fingers on my cheek.
“It was the best summer of my life.”
My stomach does a flip. His eyes burn into mine, the blue of heat and flame. Using his thumb, he brushes a drop of the soda from my lower lip. A barely there touch that has me shaking, resisting the urge to lean into him. His gaze drops to my lips, and he sucks in a breath.
And then he’s kissing me, and I’m letting him. God, it feels so good to remember how this feels. He pulls back, searching my eyes, looking for me to say no. I can’t.
As many times as Eric Elmore wants to kiss me, I’m going to let him. And he leans in to kiss me again. Harder this time.
8
Eric
Present
The second my lips meet Seph’s the second time, all bets are off. My can of coke is on the ground and I’ll scold myself for littering later. Right now there’s no time, because if I don’t get this woman naked and underneath me I’m going to spontaneously combust. And Seph is right there with me. Her arms twine around my neck and I haul her closer to me, dragging her to the door to my cabin while at the same time unwilling to let go of her or take my lips off hers.
I need to get her inside, or I’m going to fuck her against the wall, and I can’t have the campers seeing that. Somehow, I manage to pull open the door and get us through it, and I slam it closed and press her up against the door, flicking the lock. Seph’s body feels so good against mine. Like the answer to a question that I’ve been asking for years.
It’s crazy how familiar it feels, even though it’s been years. My own body has never forgotten. I groan against her lips, and her fingers claw into my shoulders. We’re trying to consume each other. I press her harder into the door, letting her feel how hard she makes me. And savoring that softness of her that I felt earlier when I pulled her out of the water. Finally giving in fully to that animal attraction that roared yesterday just at the sight of her.