I grit my teeth as Renee breaks down the afternoon for me. She wants me to work with Ali and the kids because Britney, Ali’s original helper, isn’t feeling well. I’m staring at Renee like she’s crazy. I can’t work with Ali. I can’t be around her for more than twenty seconds. Boom. Just like that, I’ve slipped away. I can hear Renee blabbing on about something, but I’m too busy talking to Mr. Frost. His words are eloquent and vivid, and I can tune out everything and visualize his words. He’s very calming.
“So, it’ll only be for a few hours in the afternoon, just until we break for dinner. And maybe help with the concert tonight. Just keep the kids in line and make sure they pay attention to Ali. You know how they get if they think they can take advantage, and you know how sweet Ali is.”
I want to puke right now. I have to rewind the conversation several times before I can process it. Renee is patiently waiting for my answer.
“Why can’t Val do it?” I whine. I can’t believe I’m a successful thirty-year-old woman. I sound like a twelve-year-old. Renee looks at me like a tantrum-throwing child, and I immediately stop my rant. Instead, I roll my eyes and head toward the gazebo where Ali is with the campers. I can already hear her guitar and I’m gritting my teeth, anxious for any reason to get me out of this predicament. I try my best to look calm and cool and stroll up the steps. Ali looks at me and smiles. Some of the kids wave to me. Sometimes I can be such an ass.
Ali’s great with the kids. She’s so patient, especially with the young ones. Do she and her partner have kids or does she have any nieces and nephews? Judging by how comfortable she is with them, I’m going with yeah. Right now she’s showing Matthew, a ten-year-old, how to properly strum a guitar. She’s asked him to help her during the concert, and within a few short hours, Matthew has gone from quiet kid to camp rock star. I’m smiling at his beautiful transformation.
Ali winks at me. It’s amazing how I can be angry and happy at her at the same time. What is that? I want to be mad at her for being flirty, her girlfriend probably patiently waiting at home for her return, but I just can’t. Maybe I’m reading too much into her winks and I just haven’t been around nice people for the last several years. I shouldn’t assume that she’s flirting.
“Maybe Miss Bethany would like to sing with us.”
I’m already shaking my head before I even process the entire conversation. I’m still building fences with Mr. Frost, and I’m thankful he’s keeping my mind off Ali and our close proximity. Singing with her is an absolute no. All of the kids start pleading and begging, and I wave them off and shoot Ali an unpleasant look. She catches my drift because she focuses their attention back on her. She strums her guitar and nods to Matthew to join her. I cringe at my rudeness and am surprised she’s still polite. The kids start singing an oldie camp song and I can’t help but smile. It’s an awful song and they sound dreadful, but they’re all smiles and seem to be having fun.
Ali is their only saving grace; her voice is strong and soothing. After hushing Mr. Frost, I close my eyes for a moment and focus on her voice alone. It really is nice. It’s smooth and fiery like a shot of brandy. After they finish their song, I open my eyes to find Ali staring at me. The look she sends jolts me. I sit up straight and look at the kids. They’re looking at me expectantly. Once again, I’m wracking my brain trying to figure out who just asked me what. I get nothing, so I apologize to everybody and wait for somebody to ask me the question again.
“How did we sound, Miss Beth?” one of the smalls asks me. We refer to any child under the age of nine as a small. I smile because they sounded horrible, but I nod and praise them as if they’re all angels singing perfectly on key. Ali smiles at me knowingly and I can’t help but smile back. She has enchanted these children, and I’m questioning why I’m here to help her. I’m definitely not needed.
“Do you have a song suggestion for us, Miss Bethany? It’s been a while since I’ve been at camp, and I can’t remember all the songs.” Ali is smiling, but I can tell she’s pulled back from me. I’m sure it’s from my indifference to her.
“Well, how about something that’s on the radio? Does it have to be a camp song?” That gets the kids excited. They’re shouting out songs they know, and Ali’s trying to calm them down. I step up and walk over to her, facing the kids and waving my hands to get their attention. “Okay, okay. Let’s do one at a time. We need to make sure Miss Ali can play the song, too.”
I’m standing about two feet from Ali, and her nearness is affecting me again. She looks great today. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun, and the sleeves of her thin plaid shirt are rolled up past her elbows, showing off the corded muscles of her forearms. Her shirt is unbuttoned and she’s wearing a simple, white tank top that clings to her curves in all the right places. I haven’t forgotten the magnificent body under her clothes. She’s wearing jeans and has to be hot, but Christ, her long legs look fantastic in tight denim, and I’m selfishly glad she’s wearing them. Yeah, I could spend days just on her legs alone.
“Beth?” I look up at Ali. Shit. Did she catch me staring at her again? I want to melt away right here on stage. “The kids are thinking of a Miley Cyrus song. What do you think about that?”
“Can they learn the song by dinner?” I look at my watch. We only have about four hours to practice. We decide on an older Miley Cyrus song, God help me, because most of the kids know it. Ali runs back to the main cabin to print sheets of music while I give the kids a quick bathroom and expel-your-energy break. Her guitar is resting on her chair under the gazebo and I can’t help but touch it. Does Ali have a name for it? I can see some wear and a few scratches, but it’s beautiful, and I know she makes incredible music with it.
“You can pick her up if you want.” Ali sneaks up behind me. I pull my hand back. I’m sure I have the guiltiest look right now.
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. She scans my face, focusing on my lips, then back up to my eyes. My body tingles at her nearness and I take a step back.
“Do you play?”
What’s she talking about? I decide to play it safe and assume she means the guitar. She leans past me and picks it up. I get a whiff of her hair and I have to bite back the appreciative groan on my tongue, threatening to embarrass me.
“Oh, no. I can’t play any instruments or sing,” I say.
“It’s pretty easy. I can give you a quick lesson.” She smiles at me. This time it’s genuine. I shake my head no, but she continues. “There are only six strings. It can’t be hard, right? Six. That’s it.” She strums a few chords and I almost melt right in front of her.
I’ve never been this close to her playing. I take a step back to put distance between us and hope she doesn’t see my goose bumps. Right now, I’m not at Camp Jacomo. I’m in a sunroom alone with Ali and she’s playing for me. Perhaps we just had a light lunch and she’s relaxing by playing a few new verses of a song she’s working on. I’m doing that slip-away thing and a part of me wants to just let it happen, but the sane part holds me down and tells me to focus.
“I have very little rhythm.” I’m surprised I can put a sentence together around her.
“Nah, I don’t believe that. Everybody has rhythm. You just need to find it or find somebody who can bring it out in you.”
We’re both completely quiet and staring at one another. The wheels are spinning in my mind. I don’t want to misinterpret her, but holy crap that was suggestive. Maybe she is just trying to be supportive about me dating again based on the conversation in the truck.
Our moment, if that’s what it is, is ruined when the kids race back into the gazebo, excited to start singing again. I slip away, pretending to count heads when really I just need distance. They line up accordingly and Ali gets their attention by strumming her guitar.
Surprisingly, the kids sound good. Better than before. Maybe they just hate the silly camp songs, and I don’t blame them. We end up with three songs for the bonfire tonight. I’m sure Ali would love to have them sing more, but we’re limited on time. Since it’s a talent show of sorts, other campers are going to show off whatever they want. Our concert will be last thing and the kids are excited to close it down. I just hope we don’t run late because the smalls won’t last.
Ali encourages the kids to create a group name so she can properly introduce them onstage. They immediately put their heads together and finally come up with the name Jacomo Jammers. They race off to the arts-and-craft area to make posters before the show.
“I think that went well,” Ali says as we fold the chairs and stack them. I smile at her.
“You’re good with kids. Do you have any?” I can’t believe I just asked her that.
“Not yet, but I have a niece. This is so much easier than dealing with her. Something about family, you know?”
I don’t know since I’m an only child. I nod because I don’t know what else to say. Her response intrigues me. I wonder if she and her girlfriend are trying. Her children will be beautiful. We finish up, and I stand there not really knowing my role now that Ali’s done with the kids. She grabs her guitar.
“It’s not too late for that lesson,” she says.
“Thanks, but I have to hit the kitchen and help with dinner,” I lie. I’m sure Renee has covered my shift, but I need to get away from Ali. I don’t want another awkward scene where I read too much into the situation.
*
The bonfire night is always a good time. We roast hot dogs and marshmallows, and blast music so the kids can dance around until the talent show starts. Tonight I’m watching it from a distance. I fake a stomachache after dinner. I feel bad for missing out on the concert, but I need to get away for a bit. I know the more time I spend around Ali, the likelier I am to forget she’s in a relationship. I don’t need to do anything stupid so I hide in my cabin. I’m a coward. I have my laptop open, fingers on the keys, but I don’t feel like writing. I don’t feel like watching TV or reading or anything. I’m not tired so the only thing I do is think. Of course, Ali’s on my mind. Why am I so intrigued by Ali Hart? Why her and not other women the past three years?
Truthfully, I’ve never felt this attracted to another woman before. I’m sure this isn’t my sexual peak because I haven’t had sex in forever. Does she also sense this attraction or is it just me? I sigh in frustration. I’m not getting anywhere. I shouldn’t even be thinking about this because she has a girlfriend. I just feel so alive around her and a part of me is angry for that. I need to let this go. I need to find a way to get her out of my head. I want to give in and just have a quick fantasy where we have hot, sweaty sex, but I have a hard enough time being around her. If I start daydreaming about that now, I’ll have to fake pneumonia and stay in my cabin until this weekend. I’ll wait until she leaves before I give in to that temptation.