1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Sunlight reflecting off the lake water was bright enough to light up an entire room, like the sun was trying to push its way through the window. At least that was how Prince viewed it when the fiery ball in the sky so rudely woke him up that first morning at the camp.

He groaned and slammed his flat pillow over his face, and when that didn't work, he pulled up the scratchy blanket Prince suspected they'd gotten straight from a prison yard sale.

"Hey, vato , get up. We gotta lot of work to do before the kids get here."

The voice belonged to Silvio Chavez, one of his cabin mates at the Camp of Desperation, or Camp Downtrodden, or whatever the hell it was called. "Fuck off," he tried to cry from beneath the bedding, but it came out muffled. So much for sounding tough.

Not that he ever really sounded tough. Even his name was soft, pretentious, and flowery. Literally, flowery.

Prince Hyland Rose was his name, one he hated. He'd considered changing it since he turned eighteen. His father would lose his mane of silver locks if he did, though. That Prince's mother had named him held a lot of power over the situation.

"Seriously, vato , you're gonna get assigned to the latrines if you're late. Them things been sitting all winter. Nasty."

Latrines were bathrooms and Prince Hyland Rose would sooner eat a McDonald's hamburger than clean a bathroom. Throwing the pillow to the bottom of his bunk, he groaned before he realized he was alone. All the other counselors were already up and gone, which meant he'd be last to the meeting, and he'd likely get latrine duty, anyway.

He got up and rushed to dress, remembering the jeans he'd brought along for the rough surroundings. After he pulled them over his ass, he blanched at the feeling of the denim. He wasn't a denim person.

The camp had its own T-shirts made especially for the counselors, emblazoned with the actual name of the camp across the maroon polyester/cotton blend in bright neon green. Camp Sunnyside. Well, that they got right. It was sunny.

He ran out after getting on his loafers and hurried down the few steps before he ran on the trail the wrong way. He only realized he was heading in the wrong direction when he kept passing cabins that were yet to be filled with poor kids, foster kids, and all the other kids from cities that never seen the country. Frankly, Prince could not understand why they'd want to.

He'd gotten a tour of the place the previous afternoon. It was rustic. All the buildings were made to look like log cabins, but the interiors of the buildings were walled with planks of wood, some painted, most not. The electric bulbs hung down without covers, and the furniture was old. The one thing he could say of the place, though, it was clean. He'd fully expected mold to be growing everywhere and rats roaming the walls, but so far, he hadn't seen that.

Hating himself a little for being so snobbish, he ran a little faster, determined not to have everything. That was short-lived once he got his breakfast.

When he finally got into the dining hall, what Silvio had called the mess hall, which was more à propos, he saw the camp leader, Harry Granville get on the short stage.

"Welcome, camp counselors," he cried out with such fervor his bloated, ruddy face jiggled. "Welcome to our tenth year! We are a packed camp this year with campers arriving from all over the state! It promises to be our best year yet."

He gestured to the woman next to him, a woman around thirty with very short black hair and a warm smile and a no-nonsense stare. "I'm Sabrina Landon, second in command around here. Welcome to our returning counselors and those who are joining us for the first time. We've got a lot to do before the campers arrive on Friday. Your work assignments are already posted and will be switched daily until we are officially open. That way, no one gets stuck on dining or latrine duty more than others."

Prince glanced over at Silvio, who was looking right at him. Silvio gave him a wink and then pointed to the stage as if to tell Prince to pay attention. Prince didn't know how to take that, but he turned his attention back to Sabrina.

"Now, we have plenty of food and supplies here, but we will get a new delivery on Thursday. That day, everyone should be by the dining hall to help unload. As it is, it's likely to take a couple hours, so no one gets out of that. Other than that, we'll be going over safety procedures, checking everyone for their first aid certification, and going over individual cabin assignments. I'll call you all in separately for first aid and cabin assignments, but the safety procedures will begin an hour before the last meal this evening at five. Remember, you'll sleep in a counselor cabin only until the kids get here. Then you'll stay with them, but you may keep your belongings in the counselor cabins. The kids tend to be a little nosy."

Harry stepped back in front and cheered, "And the most important thing! Having fun!"

Sabrina didn't seem to share in that sentiment and whispered harshly in his ear, causing his already red face to brighten.

Once she stepped back again, he said, "Safety first, then fun! Always safety first!"

Everyone smiled and wanted to laugh but restrained. Prince didn't even smile. He was miserable already.

As he got in line after the meeting to check his assignment, he shrunk in on himself some. It wasn't like Prince was shy or meek normally, but he was in a place where he didn't know a soul. The cabin he shared with Silvio and a couple of the others was his new home and his cabin mates had told him their names and shook his hand. That was about it.

The thing was, he shouldn't be at the camp. He wasn't poor and didn't need a freebie camp for the underprivileged and he certainly didn't need the job. The trust in his name would free up on his twenty-first birthday. No, the summer of drudgery was all about the fact he was flunking out of college.

Prince ran a hand through his chestnut hair, the same deep, shining color as his mother. The mother that died the moment he was born. He knew about her, though, read her diaries, saw her portrait, a beauty queen with brains too, the one that his father had loved more than anyone on earth. Prince, yeah, his name was the one she'd wanted for him. To her, he was her little prince, even before he was born. Prince's father, Leonard Rose, granted one of her dying wishes in giving him the name she'd chosen. He'd have done anything for her. Now he was whipped on another much younger woman, Tory, his wife of five years.

As he stepped up to the bulletin board with the work assignments, he was relieved to see he'd be helping set up the craft cabin. That sounded the least disgusting of the bunch.

He started for the line that had begun when breakfast was being dished up in trays, again, like he'd imagined prison would be, and thought about the professor that had sent him to the camp.

Professor Gadsden had set him down in his office just two weeks previously and told him he was in some trouble with the dean. Prince had flunked three classes. Prince had never flunked a class in his life, but college held nothing for him. He loved computers, but his father had insisted he go into business. One day, he was to run the family business, which was computer software. No, he wasn't allowed to do the actual work on the software; he was just supposed to run the company that hired people to make the software for them. It was infuriating.

His father would lose his normal cool and calm if he flunked, and Gadsden knew that. So, he told Prince he'd talked his other professors into giving him a makeup final for all three classes if he worked at the camp that summer. How the hell could he say no?

When he got to the front of the line, he was given a serving spoonful of what he only guessed to be scrambled eggs, a formed patty of hash browns, and another sloppy spoonful of applesauce. He picked up a barely buttered piece of toast at the end along with utensils.

Silvio waved him over to the table where he sat, and Prince was skeptical, but he went to it and sat across from Silvio. "Hey. Sorry about getting you up that way, but they will fuck with you if you are always late."

"It's…it's fine, I guess."

Another man set next to Silvio and reached a hand over their trays. "I'm Anton."

He took it, though he harshly judged Anton's lack of etiquette. "Prince."

Anton laughed a little before Silvio said, "It's really his name."

"Oh! Oh, cool. Like that singer from the eighties or whatever?"

Before Prince could deny that was where his mother had gotten the name, Silvio scolded his friend. "Anton, whether or not he's named after Prince, he wasn't some singer from the eighties. He was a rock god!"

"Rock god? How old are you, man?"

"I like music, all kinds of music from all decades. Don't judge."

The eggs were terrible and bland and the hash browns cold in the center, so he pushed his tray away to munch on a corner of his toast.

"So, were you?" Anton asked.

"Was I what?" Prince responded, setting the toast back on the tray.

"Were you named after the…sorry, rock god ?"

Silvio snorted a laugh, but Prince only smiled tiredly. It wasn't like it was the first time he'd been asked that question. "No, it wasn't from that. My mom was…I don't know, a romantic, I guess you'd say."

"Ah, I see. Well, cool name regardless."

"What's a cool name, gentlemen?" A man behind Prince asked, but before Prince could turn to match the voice to a face, the guy was sitting next to him. "Silvio, so good to see you're back."

"Yeah, Toby, it's great. Aren't you the CEO of some company or something by now? Still slumming?"

"Yeah, it's my way to give back," he said as he placed his hand over his chest in mock sincerity before his head spun to Prince. "I'm Toby Blake, and you are?"

"Prince Rose," he said while inwardly cringing. The name usually brought jeers or laughter, but not from Toby Blake.

"Rose…interesting. Your father isn't Leonard Rose, by any chance, is it?"

How he could know that Prince was at a loss, as were his two new companions, Silvio and Anton, by the way their jaws hung.

"Yes, he is."

"So, you and I have things in common, like we're not . Common that is. I'm here to pad my resume, and I'm assuming you are as well. You're what, twenty? You're about to apply for grad schools, right?"

Not if he didn't bring up his grades, but generally speaking, he was. "I haven't picked one yet."

"I'm going to Wharton in the fall. They've had my place set for years now."

La-di-da , Prince thought. His father could buy Wharton and toss Toby out on his ass, but he wouldn't say that. "Good school," he said simply.

"Oh, well, I see some friends at the other table. If you gentlemen will excuse me?" Toby asked politely as he stood and picked up his tray, heading two tables down from the three.

"What the fuck is up with Ivy Leech?"

It was Prince's turn to snort a laugh. "Ivy Leech?"

"Anton's little pet name for Toby. He's…well, maybe we should just let you judge for yourself."

It didn't take long for Prince to do just that. When Toby sat at the table with his buddies, laughter came like a boom that had all the other tables full of counselors turning to see what the laughter was from.

"Prince," they all heard Toby say to them in the jeer Prince had expected and the laughter roared again.

"Ah, and there you go," Silvio said, then started in on his food.

"He's talking about me? Why?"

Anton explained, "Toby is an insecure asshole. You being you, likely with as much or more money than him, he's jealous so he'll likely try to make your time here miserable. I think his mother didn't hug him enough or something."

"Anton, shit," Silvio hissed, then lowered his eyes to his tray.

Prince understood that Silvio was worried the comment about a mother's hugs would bother him. He'd never had a mother or a hug from her, so he didn't know if he was missing something important. In fact, hugs weren't exactly a common thing for him. "It's okay, Silvio. It happened when I was born, so it's not like I knew her."

"Don't tell Toby that," Anton warned. "You'd think something like that would be out of bounds, but not with guys like him."

To change the subject, Prince asked, "When to we get our electronics back?"

The camp had collected all phones, tablets, and computers to give the counselors a chance to be unplugged for their time there. "You get it back on your days off. Never while you are watching the kids," Silvio explained. "One kid almost drowned one day while the counselor was busy texting his girlfriend."

Anton quipped, "How Friday the 13 th is that?"

"That you know, but Prince was just a singer?"

Getting them back on subject, Prince pushed, "Only on our days off? What if there is, I don't know, an emergency?"

"There are landlines and walkies," Anton said, laughing a little as he took a bite of eggs.

After rolling his eyes, Prince started to rise from the table. "I'm going to get to the craft cabin. Where is it?"

"On the other end of the camp, just down from the boathouse."

"Thanks. See you guys at lunch?"

Silvio was chewing but gave Prince a thumbs up and Anton nodded before Prince turned and went to the huge trashcans by the door. Wanting to throw the tray and all in the big metal can, he saw there was a stack of trays on a table behind it. He let the rest of his food slide off into the can with all the rest of the discarded food and stacked the tray, already dreading dining hall duty. The thought of cleaning them made him want to wretch.

The lake was really beautiful, but he'd much rather recline on a nice lounge chair on the shore while sipping wine and checking his Insta. How anyone liked camping, he'd never understand. Dirt, bugs and wild animals were not his idea of a good time.

And then he saw someone that had him rethinking his stance on camping. Just as he neared the craft cabin with wooden letters painted to announce just that across the side of it, he saw a man fishing maybe thirty feet from where he stood, gaping.

Shirtless, tattooed and so hot, Prince felt a trickle of sweat rolling down his temple.

Casting out the line, then reeling it taut, the man's dark hair shone in the light that came off the lake. He had on sunglasses, like he was driving a Ferrari on the highway of the Amalfi Coast. Yes, that dark olive skin covering the perfectly muscled form, Prince was sure he was of Italian descent, or at least Greek. The summers he'd spent in both places were the most memorable of his childhood because his budding gayness had awakened staring at men just like the one on that lake shore.

He could have screamed as a girl's voice interrupted his drooling. "Are you Prince? I hope I'm saying that right."

Tearing his eyes from the vision down shore, Prince saw an awkward girl standing near the steps of the cabin. "I'm Prince. It's pronounced like it looks, yeah."

"Oh! Oh, good," she said as she hurried over to him, her hand out the entire way from the stairs to him. "I'm Caroline."

"Nice to make your acquaintance," he said as he shook her hand.

"So glad it's you. I mean, I know I don't know you, but you're not," she started, then lowered her voice. "You're not Toby and his friends." She realized she didn't know if Prince was indeed on the list of said friends, so she backtracked. "I mean, if you are his friend, that's just great, but…"

"I'm definitely not his friend," Prince said, assuring she was off the hook for the comment.

Relief flooded her visibly, and she shook his hand again. Her nose wrinkled as she laughed and said, "Thank goodness. He's not a very nice person."

"No, he's not."

She was cute, terribly thin and boyish looking. Her hair was even shorter than Sabrina's, but purple. "Come on, let's get the crayons sorted."

"Sounds good," he said, suddenly glad he'd come. As much as he loved being rich and all that came with it, he was pretty low on people he genuinely liked to be around, and so far, he'd met a few he could tolerate. With one more glance over at the perfectly beautiful man on the shore, who was probably so straight, Prince could get punched just for leering, he followed Caroline into the cabin.