Chapter Eleven

eleven

Hillary

Sunday afternoon, Dot, Jessie, Zoey, and I are outside the dining hall, waving as the last bus of campers pulls away. I had no idea it was possible to be this exhilarated and exhausted at the same time. And we get to do it all over again tomorrow with a brand-new group.

But first, family dinner.

It was Cooper's idea to turn our weekly staff meeting into a weekly staff dinner. It's an opportunity to talk about what went well over the last week and what needs improving for the weeks ahead. Selfishly, I'm excited to have one meal where I know I'll have a place to sit and people to eat with.

Dot and Jessie are already at a table when I walk into the dining hall, their heads bent together. Looking at them, I feel a pang of jealousy. I should be grateful that my relationship with Jessie has moved from professional to friendly. I know trust isn't elastic; when it's broken, it doesn't just snap back into place. Especially for someone like Jessie, whose childhood was a constant reminder that letting people in gives them the power to let you down.

But I'm nothing if not relentless. And now that she's opened the door to a conversation, I'm optimistic about saving our friendship. Jessie told me about Mary Valentine's offer for her to use any profits as bonuses for her staff. There's no better way to get back in Jessie's good graces than helping her help them—I have a feeling she's more worried about the pending unemployment of Dot and Mr. Billy than her own.

"Something smells good," I say as I approach the table.

Cooper walks out of the kitchen just in time to hear the compliment. His apron is emblazoned with the words hot stuff , surrounded by little bottles of Tabasco sauce, and he has several platters balanced on each of his arms. He describes each dish as he sets them down: kale Caesar salad, bruschetta with roasted Brussels sprouts and ricotta with a balsamic glaze, and the main dish, freshly made pappardelle with homemade pesto and garlic-roasted prawns. His plating looks more gourmet than family style, and I wish I had my phone to take a picture.

Once everyone has helped themselves—Mr. Billy, Zoey, and Zac having joined us—Jessie pulls a tiny notebook and pen out of her fanny pack.

"To borrow one of Lola's traditions, I thought we could each share a rose and a thorn from this past week," she says. "Dot, want to start?"

"Tons of roses," Dot says. "The biggest was having so much love and light back at the camp. And the thorn…those campers got pretty cranky once their booze ran out."

Everyone laughs.

"I've already called to double the weekly wine order," Jessie says, looking at me. "Hillary had an idea to have additional bottles on hand to sell."

"We could also stock the canteen with beer and liquor," I say, sitting up a little straighter.

"And condoms," Dot adds, and Jessie scribbles that in her notebook. "Apparently sneaking out of the cabins at night is still en vogue…and since we can't stop 'em, we might as well make sure they're protected! I found quite a few wrappers by the lake."

"Litter!" Mr. Billy grunts, and we all know his thorn.

"I have a lot of other ideas, too," I say, before we get sidetracked. "If Zac and Zoey are willing, people could pay extra for private sailing lessons."

"I'm game," Zac says.

"And maybe Cooper could offer a cooking demonstration." I see him nodding out of the corner of my eye, which gives me the confidence to continue. "We could have special event mixers, like speed dating for singles. And you could charge a premium for couples to upgrade to a private room if there are any empty cabins that session. I'd be happy to look at your PNL, because it might be worth it to invest in a queen bed, or at least a better mattress for—"

"Let's get back to the roses and thorns," Jessie says, sucking the wind out of my sails. "Zoey?"

Zoey gives me a sympathetic smile before turning toward Jessie. "Being back here is such a big rose, and so is sharing it with my love." She makes eyes at Zac, and I can practically see the electricity zinging between them. "The thorn was all the grown men being such babies about treading water. Zacky?"

"The food is my biggest rose—it's incredible, mate," Zac says, looking at Cooper, who seems genuinely touched. Zoey playfully elbows her husband, and he quickly adds, "And of course, spending all day on the water with my wife—that's worth a dozen roses."

"Much better," Zoey says, cuddling into his side.

"And the thorn?" Jessie asks.

Zac scratches his chin. "Three of the canoes are leaking. Nothing I can't fix with a little sealant, but it'll take some time."

"Noted," Jessie says. "How about you, Coop?"

My stomach tightens. I'm up next. There's a special place in hell for whoever invented icebreakers. Give me a good pro and con list and I'll go to town. But as soon as you call them roses and thorns and expect me to be charming or clever, my mind goes blank.

"My rose is having the freedom to create a new menu every night," Cooper says. "And my thorn…so many dietary restrictions."

Jessie scribbles in her notebook. "Dot started outreach for the next few weeks, so we can plan ahead."

"That'll help," Cooper says. "But it breaks my heart to serve people bland food."

"Their loss," Zac says, going for seconds on the pasta.

"And you, Hill?" Jessie asks.

"Well," I say, stalling. My rose had been coming up with so many ideas to help Jessie increase the camp's profitability, but I'm not going there now. "Everyone's said my roses—the people, the food, the nostalgia…but if I had to add something, it's that I—I didn't expect people to be so excited about arts and crafts. Almost every session has been full. And the thorn…"

I'm not brave enough to admit the truth—how lonely it is being here without the comfort of Jessie's friendship, the anxiety I feel walking into the bustling dining hall every night and not knowing where to sit.

"I guess the thorn is that I'll have to restock supplies sooner than expected."

Jessie jots that down, then says, "There's a Walmart in town. Cooper, aren't you going tomorrow? Hill, you should go with him and get what you need."

Forty-five minutes to town and back in the car with Cooper? I'm so boring, I'll probably put him to sleep. I'm about to politely decline when he says, "Yeah, you should come. I'm leaving around seven thirty."

"Okay, sure," I say, and that's settled.

"This next group of campers are in their early forties," Jessie says, closing her notebook, "and our special activity for the week is the scavenger hunt."

"Wait, boss," Dot says. "You didn't share yours."

Jessie looks wistful, her mouth turning down at the corners. She fiddles with one of her braids, then clears her throat and says, "My rose is you all being here, helping keep the magic of camp alive for one more year. And my thorn…"

Before she can answer, the door to the dining hall opens, and a man walks in. I recognize him as the reclusive writer who booked a cabin for the whole summer—I only saw him briefly one night during training week. He stops abruptly and glares at us, as if we're the ones intruding.

"We're having our staff meeting," Jessie replies, her voice flat.

"We've got plenty of food if you're hungry," Cooper says, extending the invitation that Jessie didn't.

The man looks at Jessie, as if waiting for her permission. She sighs, giving the slightest nod, and he takes a seat across from her.

"Has everyone met Luke?" Cooper asks. "Our resident novelist."

My eyes go wide. I didn't realize the novelist was Luke , the hot counselor everyone had a crush on when we were CITs.

Everyone including Jessie.

He's older now, but he's got the same smoldering blue eyes and movie-star looks that made him the topic of many late-night conversations in our cabin.

Cooper gets up to grab another plate, but I'm watching the wordless interaction between Jessie and Luke. She's angled her body away from him, aimlessly flipping through her notebook. Luke's also avoiding eye contact, looking down at his food, but every so often he sneaks a glance at Jessie.

I wonder if something happened between them this week—or if this is a remnant of the way Luke treated Jessie that summer he was a jerk to her for no reason.

Whatever it is, I'm sure she'll tell Dot all about it.

—

The next morning, I get to the dining hall five minutes early. Cooper's already there, leaning against his red SUV, waiting for me.

"Morning," he says, reaching for the handle of the passenger door at the same time I do. Our fingers brush, and I pull mine back as if the contact stung me.

Way to already make things weird, Hillary.

"Thanks," I say, buckling my seat belt as he closes the door and walks around to the other side.

"Made you a breakfast sandwich for the road," he says, handing me a foil-wrapped package that's warm to the touch.

I salivate in anticipation, unwrapping the egg-and-cheese bagel. I stop just before taking a bite. "Aren't you eating, too?"

Cooper shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the narrow road winding through the trees just beyond the camp. "I had a kale smoothie earlier," he says.

"Yech," I accidentally say.

"Hey." Cooper laughs. "Don't yuck my yum."

"I've got plenty of yums you can yuck," I tell him. "Have you ever tried gefilte fish?"

Cooper pulls a face. "Only once."

"Put some horseradish on it, and mmm! It's my favorite part of Passover."

"I thought it might be hiding the matzah…" Cooper lifts his eyebrows and flashes me his winning smile, which has no doubt dropped panties all over Boston and the surrounding tristate area.

Before I can think of a response, my phone bursts to life, vibrating with two weeks' worth of notifications. Apparently, we're far enough from camp to have service.

"Whoa," Cooper says, looking down at the alerts filling my screen. "A lot of people must be missing you."

"It's mostly business," I say dismissively. I have an auto-reply on, but I should probably check in occasionally in case there's anything urgent. "And a guy," I add, when a text from Aaron pops up.

"A guy?" Cooper asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

"It's…complicated."

According to the timing on the notification, Aaron sent the text three days after I got to camp. I wonder if the dating waters aren't as warm and welcoming as he thought. Maybe he's had a change of heart and wants to put an end to this silly break.

I tap the message.

Aaron: Hey, what's your Netflix password?

"Actually," I say with a resigned sigh, "It's not that complicated."

"Must have been a good text," Cooper says. "Or a bad one?"

I glance over. He's focused on the road ahead, and something about sitting side by side and the lack of eye contact makes it easier to open up. So I give him the highlights of my relationship with Aaron, from my dad setting us up all the way to what I'm now thinking of as his indecent proposal.

"?‘We were on a break!'?" Cooper exclaims when I've finished. "Sorry, Friends reference."

"Oh, I got it," I say, laughing. It feels good to talk about what happened, and even better to laugh about it. "Although I'm not sure if I'm Ross or Rachel in this scenario."

"You're too good-looking to be Ross," Cooper says, and my neck flushes with heat, thinking back to the way he looked at me that first day outside the showers.

"Well, either way, Aaron's back in Chicago, treating this summer like it's one big fling, and I'm here."

"Hey, you can have a summer fling, too," Cooper says.

"I could, but I won't."

"Why not?"

I sigh, struggling to find the words without knocking Cooper's own disregard for the rules or making myself sound too lame. "I guess you could say I'm not fun enough for something like that."

"Says who?"

"A lot of people."

"That guy?" Cooper gestures toward my phone.

"He may have said something about my lacking in the fun department." Cooper scoffs and I hurry to add, "But it's okay. I mean, who would I even have a fling with? The campers are off-limits, Zac is very happily married, and Mr. Billy is so ancient…"

"How about that cute chef with all the sexy aprons?"

An awkward laugh bursts out of me. It's the worst possible response, but I've never been good at flirting.

That's what this is, right? I mean, the man just implied he'd like to sleep with me. But maybe he was joking. He was probably joking.

I turn to look at him at the exact same moment he turns to look at me. My breath catches. Cooper holds my stare, and it's almost like we're playing chicken—until the car veers and he looks straight ahead, keeping his eyes on the road.

"What exactly are you suggesting?" I ask, trying desperately to hide my shock.

"It was an offer, not a suggestion," he says, his voice casual, like he does this every day. Which he might, based on that blonde in the kitchen. "If you're looking for a summer fling, I could be into that."

"Wouldn't that get in the way of your romancing the campers?" I ask.

Cooper lets out a curt laugh, but there's not much humor behind it. For a moment, I wonder if I've offended him. But he just says, "See? You'd be doing me a favor—curbing the temptation to break the rules."

My cheeks flush and I wonder if this is part of some elaborate prank.

"Are you being serious?" I ask.

"Very," he says. "I mean, we already kissed once, right?"

So he does remember.

"And I already saw your boob."

I cover my face with my hands at the memory. "You only saw part of my boob."

He winces apologetically. "Hate to break it to you, but I'm a good six inches taller than you. And that towel had some significant…gaping at the top."

My mouth falls open. "So because you saw one boob you think you might as well see everything ?"

Do I want him to see everything?

"No pressure or anything," Cooper says. "Just throwing it out there."

My heart is pounding. I can't believe I'm even considering this. I am not a "fling" person. I've never had a "fling." I approach romantic relationships the same way I approach everything in life—cautiously and with a plan. A casual fling would throw all that out the window.

But it would also prove Aaron wrong.

"I'll think about it," I say, knowing I won't be able to think of anything else for the near future.

—

Our first stop in "town" is the Walmart Supercenter, which has craft supplies for me and food supplies for Cooper. Not to mention alcohol and sex supplies for the campers.

We exchange numbers in case we can't find each other once we've filled our respective carts. I locate all the craft supplies I need—everything from yarn and embroidery floss to tie-dye materials, pipe cleaners, and construction paper—plus all the comforts of home I need for my room, since camp is so remote, Amazon doesn't even deliver there. I pick out a fan, new sheets, two pillows (one decorative), a soft blanket, two towels, and, most importantly, a robe.

When I'm done, I find Cooper in the cereal aisle, chewing his lip as he studies the nutritional labels on two family-sized boxes of cereal. The sight of him sends a rush of heat through my entire body.

If you're looking for a summer fling, I could be into that.

"Hey!" I say, forcing a friendly smile as I roll my cart up beside his. "Find everything you need?"

"And then some. How about you?" Cooper sounds completely chill, whereas I'm still freaking out about his proposition. Could I actually have a summer fling? Me? With Cooper?

"Same, I think." I look down at my list of supplies and realize there's only one thing left. The last thing I want to shop for with Cooper.

You're an adult , I tell myself. Stop being so pathetic.

"What aisle do you think the condoms are in? For the campers?" I add so he doesn't get the wrong idea.

Even if we did have a fling, it's not like I'd jump into bed with him. I've only slept with four people in my entire life, and I was in a committed relationship with each of them. But maybe we could…make out or something?

"I'm pretty sure they're in the sexual health aisle," Cooper says, with the knowing look of someone who regularly buys condoms.

I make an "ick" face, imagining any derivative of the word "sex" on an aisle sign at Walmart.

"Kidding," he says. "But let's go look."

We find them in Aisle 17, Family Planning. The selection is overwhelming—although thanks to my latex allergy, my personal options are limited.

"Which ones should we get?" I ask Cooper, since he's the one with a penis. The thought of that—his penis! Which he just offered to let me get to know!—makes me squirm.

"Hmm," he says, studying the selection. "My gut says the glow-in-the-dark ones. Cuts down on the chance of losing it in the bushes."

A laugh bubbles out of me. The package he's pointing to is right next to the flavored ones. Feeling emboldened, I grab packs of both and throw them in the cart. "Think anyone will need the jumbo size?"

"Maybe just one pack," Cooper says, winking. My stomach flips. "And we should get some that are ribbed for her pleasure."

My cheeks grow hot at the thought of Cooper considering my pleasure. I flash back to the sounds of Zoey and Zac in the room next to mine. I wonder if Cooper has heard them, too.

"None for his pleasure?" I say in an attempt to flirt back.

"Uh…the ultra-thin ones are for his pleasure," Cooper says, his eyes twinkling as he slides the packs off the rack. "Think we need anything else?"

I hesitate, eyeing the latex-free packages. "Maybe some of these," I say, not meeting his eye as I toss them in the cart. Just in case.

—

An hour later, we're finally back on the road to camp.

"That poor checkout lady was so confused by our haul," I say, shaking my head. "And when you said we worked at a camp!"

Cooper laughs. "Hey, the crafts could be for the kids, and the condoms for the counselors."

"If that's what it was like being a counselor, then I really regret my decision not to come back."

"That's what the whole falling-out with Jessie was over, right?"

The tiny hairs on my arms stand at attention. "Did she say something to you?"

"No, no," Cooper says. "I just put the pieces together."

I exhale a sigh of relief. "Yeah, well, that's exactly what happened. It was her dream for us to be counselors together."

"But it wasn't yours?"

I twirl my hair around my finger, feeling a twinge of guilt, even after all these years. "I wanted us to be best friends forever, like we were at camp, but when it came to my future, I was chasing a different dream."

"Did you end up getting it?"

"Some of it," I say, thinking about Aaron and the one item I won't be checking off my list anytime soon. The more distance I get from that last conversation, the more certain I am that I deserve a man who doesn't need a summerlong "break" from me to bang whomever he wants. A man who reaches out to ask how I'm doing, not for my Netflix password.

My attempt at a smile falls flat, and I lean back, looking out the window. The trees pass by in a blur. Time feels like that sometimes, like it's moving so fast that things lose their shape; like you've lost your sense of reality. Then when it all slows down, you look up and don't know where you are or how you even got there.

"How about you?" I ask Cooper, desperate to get out of my head. "What's your dream?"

"For a hot minute, I was living it. Running a kitchen at a top restaurant in Boston."

"What happened?" I ask.

Cooper drums his fingers on the steering wheel, as if he's debating how much to share. After a moment, he says, "A local magazine did a feature on the hottest up-and-coming chefs in Boston, and I was one of them."

"Ooh," I say, intrigued. If I had girlfriends, the kind I'd call to dish about our love lives, I could tell them my summer fling was one of the hottest chefs in Boston.

Except I don't have girlfriends, and Cooper's not a chef in Boston anymore. Plus, I haven't made a decision about this potential fling.

"Don't be too impressed," he says. "It was more about the restaurant than me. But it came with a lot of attention. Too much attention. Things were great for a while, but then they got messy, and…"

His voice trails off. A somber expression settles on his face—the first time I've seen him with something other than a smile or a smirk. I get the sense there's more to this story, and I'm about to ask what else happened when he clears his throat and shrugs.

"Anyway—I'm here now. And I'm happy to have a break while I figure out what's next."

A comfortable silence settles between us then, and he continues to drum his hands on the wheel. The tendons pulsing under his skin remind me of piano strings moving during a classical concerto. My mind drifts to all the incredible things his hands can do in the kitchen, and I wonder if I can loosen up enough to see what they can do in the bedroom, too. If I can be brave enough.

Fun enough.

"There's more where that came from, right?" Cooper asks, and I startle.

"Sorry," I tell him. "I was somewhere else."

Cooper turns, his smile stretching so wide I almost wonder if he knows what I was thinking.

"What'd you say?" I ask.

"I was saying how much I liked those ideas of yours. For the camp. And the way you were talking, I assume there's more?"

"A lot more," I admit. "I want to help Jessie, and I think I could, but I don't think she's ready for me to be that honest."

"You should always be honest," Cooper says, his voice sharp. "The truth may hurt, but the not-truth can end up hurting even more."

I nod, sensing the pain beneath Cooper's words. Whose lies hurt him? I wonder.

"I especially liked your idea about the new mattresses," he says in a gentler tone. He gives me a flirty wink, and just like that, I'm thinking about the fling again. I appreciate that he's not pushing me to make a decision. But it would be fun. To be the kind of person who had flings.

Just for the summer.