Last Chance Summer - Shannon Klare Page 0,11
out a long sigh, my grumbling stomach confirming my appetite. The small sandwich I’d scarfed between my house and Shreveport’s airport had barely made a dent.
“What if I’m not comfortable going strange places with strange people?” I said.
“I asked myself that exact same question, yet here I am staring at you.”
I mentally flipped him off as he continued walking, his long legs increasing the distance between us. I jogged to catch up, huffing at the humidity clinging to my lungs.
“At the risk of sounding whiny, could you walk any slower?” I said, swatting away a cloud of mosquitoes.
“No,” he said, glancing at me over his shoulder. “There’s too much ground to cover between here and the mess hall. Besides, you aren’t the only one who’s hungry. If you don’t like the pace, I can bring you a sandwich if and when I eventually grab my bags.”
“How long might that be?” I said.
“An hour. Five hours. Who knows? Depends on who I run into and how much time I can spend stalling before Loraine assigns me to showing you around some more.”
“Hey, I already said I didn’t need a tour,” I said, catching up with him. “I don’t really need or want to be a counselor either.”
“Great! Then refuse to do it and let her hook me up with a co-counselor who will actually pull her weight.”
“I’m stronger than I look.”
“I didn’t mean literal weight,” he said, pausing. He surveyed me, his lips pursed.
“You were kidding, right?” he said after a minute.
“Maybe. Maybe not,” I said, walking again.
Ahead, six smaller cabins came into view. Three lined one side of the road while the remaining three lined the other side.
Grant pointed at them. “That’s where we’ll be staying. Cabins one, two, and three are on the left. Four, five, and six are on the right. We’re in two, which means we’re right there in the middle.”
I eyed cabin two, frowning. Like a miniature version of the counselor cabin, this cabin also had a tin roof and wraparound porch. The main difference was two doors on its exterior—one on the right side of the porch and one on the left. A large metal 2 separated them, identifying the building.
“You and your group will be on the right. Me and my group will be on the left,” he said. “Both groups have their own cots, showers, et cetera. They’re basically the exact same floor plans, except I think your side is maybe one or two feet bigger.”
“Nifty.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Back in the day, campers had to sleep on concrete slabs with tarps as a makeshift cover. It was legit camping, but it sucked. Anytime a tornado or other serious storm system rolled through, everyone had to pack up and move to the mess hall.”
“Nothing says safe haven like someone getting sucked into a tornado,” I said.
Grant chuckled, walking toward the set of cabins on the opposite side of the road. Trees were thicker behind them, hiding a dirt path that twined its way through.
“The pool is down that path,” he said, pointing at it. “Maybe a quarter mile or so. Are you lifeguard certified?”
“Nope.”
“CPR certified?”
“Nope.”
“Nature enthusiast?”
“No,” I said, hands on my hips. “I literally hate nature with a burning passion. I mean, I love Earth, but I’m a city girl through and through.”
“Fantastic! That’s exactly what I want to hear when I’m showing my co-counselor around the largest summer camp this side of Lufkin.” He crossed his arms and shook his head. “You do realize you’ll be out here for two months, right? With little to no interaction with anything city related?”
“You know, I do remember Loraine saying something about no Starbucks and no Wi-Fi. Maybe I dreamed that conversation but—”
“At least your personality kind of makes up for your lack of qualifications,” he said.
“You haven’t even seen the best parts,” I said.
He rocked back on his heels, letting out a low whistle. “Attitude.”
“Hungry and annoyed,” I said, shrugging.
“Default setting?”
“Only when my tour guide has decided to keep me from food in favor of flirting with me,” I said. “Which I’m assuming is why you’ve quit walking.”
“I quit walking because I’m one of those guys who has a hard time explaining things to people while simultaneously trying to work out situations in his brain.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Okay,” he said. “Riddle me why your aunt decided to give you a counselor position when she could’ve easily put you in some basic office job.”
“I don’t know. Ask her.”
“I’m asking you,” he said.
“Well, you’re asking the wrong person, because