Sexy. Smart. Secretive.: A Novella

  Sexy. Smart. Secretive.

  A Novella

  By

  Nadia M. Joliet

  Copyright © 2014 by Nadia M. Joliet

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to nadiamjoliet@gmail.com.

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  Sunday evening, June 8

  Things I know about James:

  - Sexy

  - Smart

  - Secretive

  There’s something about him I can’t quite put my finger on. Something about the way he smiles — it makes me light up on the inside, makes me think that even if I were having a really bad day, suddenly everything would be better. But behind that smile, there’s something else. What is it? It’s like he’s hiding something, or protecting himself from something.

  I want to know his secret. But I have less than a week to figure it out.

  Monday morning, June 9

  It’s been a busy few days. It’s strange working at a place like this, but here I am: my first week as a “camp counselor” at Camp Salvaje, my first real job outside of campus. The whole idea of a summer camp for adults is strange, I suppose, though in a good way — except for one thing. I can’t quite get over being a counselor to people who are almost all older than I am. Otherwise, it’s just like any other summer camp — we go kayaking, swimming, hiking, do crafts, eat at long tables in a hot mess hall, and sleep in permanent tents with wooden frames out in nature. The only difference is everyone’s age.

  And in some ways, it feels like growing up all over again. I’m the only new counselor out of eight of us, which is kind of weird. Orientation was last week, and I met my very first group of campers yesterday evening. There are fifteen in my group, including a few couples, several older female friends, and a few people who came by themselves.

  Like James. He’s 23 — two years older than I am — with sleek, shiny light brown hair that looks golden in the light, and eyes that caught my attention the moment I saw him. They’re green with little flecks of amber, and I can’t stop staring at them — but I’m trying! This is work, after all, even if just for the summer, and the first rule Ms. M, my boss, told us at orientation was DO NOT GET ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED WITH THE CAMPERS.

  But I can look, right?

  When the campers first arrived last night and I saw him, I was hoping he would be in my group — yet I was so nervous when he was. We met, and it felt like an electric shock when James shook my hand. Then he said to me, “Ella. You look like someone I used to know.” He had this sort of faraway look in his eyes that I want to understand but don’t. I loved how he said my name. Most people forget it the moment I introduce myself.

  I asked him, “Who?” but he just shook his head like he was shaking himself back into reality, and then Ms. M called us all back together to talk about how things would go for the campers this week.

  We had an ice cream social after that, which gave the campers a chance to get to know each other and us counselors. My group was pretty nice, though I didn’t always know what to say to them. I mean, I’m new here too! I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t even feel like a real adult, much less someone who can guide adults through a week in a new place. They kept me pretty busy with questions and conversation, though. I told them all about how I’m going into my senior year at UC Santa Cruz, how I’m studying anthropology, how I have a younger brother, and how yes, I miss my friends from school, but I’m excited to be here and feel lucky to have been chosen to be a counselor here.

  Part of that isn’t quite true, though. I would miss my friends from school if I felt like I had any. But what was the point of staying in Santa Cruz for the summer if I had no one to spend time with? It might seem odd for someone shy like me to decide to be a counselor, where I have to interact with people every day, all the time, but it seemed better than staying there. Besides, it’s beautiful out here.

  My “campers” told me about their kids, their jobs (this is supposed to be a work-free zone, but I didn’t feel comfortable telling them they couldn’t talk about what it), and about how they keep feeling the need to check their phones, which aren’t allowed here.

  It’s hard for me to get used to too. I mean, why do you think I’m keeping a journal for the first time in years? I’m not sure how else to occupy the time I’d otherwise spend obsessively checking my email, playing games, and generally wasting time.

  I told them about how all the counselors have walkie-talkies instead of cell phones, just in case something bad happens and we need to get in touch with Ms. M, who can call 911 if there’s an emergency — even though that seems unnecessarily complicated to me. I didn’t tell them, though, about the paralyzing fear I feel when I imagine having to deal with an emergency out here, having to take charge and make decisions, how I don’t know if I’ll make the right ones in the heat of the moment.

  I couldn’t stop looking at James during the ice cream social. He stayed quiet and withdrawn most of the night, didn’t talk to people much. But it was my job to get to know my campers, so I asked him some questions — purely in the interest of being a good counselor, of course. He’s from San Diego, and it turns out he went to UC Santa Cruz too! He studied biology and has worked in a lab researching the effect of various microbes on the human immune system since he graduated. I was impressed. I never did very well in biology, but have a lot of respect for people who conduct research.

  Then I asked him why he decided to come here to camp, and he didn’t respond at first. He looked faraway, and his face swirled with quick-moving emotions before he refocused and said, “I just like it here. I came here last year too.”

  I took my cue and didn’t ask anything else, but I was very curious what that meant.

  I’m trying so hard not to have a crush on him.

  So far, it seems that I’m failing.

  Monday evening, June 9

  First full day of camp! This morning I had my first group activity with the campers. After breakfast in the mess hall, we divided up into our groups and mine went kayaking. I used to love kayaking when I was younger, but aside from counselor orientation it had been a few years since I’d been, so I was really excited. We all went down to the dock and got on our life jackets, and I had to do a safety demonstration and explain how to paddle. I just pretended like I knew what I was doing, and I think everyone bought it! A few people had been kayaking lots, but for others it was a first.

  After that, we divided into pairs, and — get this — James was the only one who didn’t have a partner! Everyone had either come with someone else or had made friends with the others who came alone, and they all paired off easily. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised since he keeps to himself mostly. Anyway, it was fine by me because it meant he and I got to go out together. I was elated!

  Everyone carried their kayaks down the little hill from where they stay chained to a bike rack, and two by two I helped them get in and push off. Finally it was my turn. I steadied the kayak while James got in the front, and I got in back to steer. It’s not a huge lake, so we didn’t have to stay together or anything — I could almost see everyone from where I was.

  We took off, and James pointed to what looked like an inlet in the lake off on the other side. “What’s over there?” he
asked.

  “I have no idea,” I told him. I didn’t want to admit that this was only my second time on this lake, and that the first time, during orientation last week, I’d been too busy practicing CPR and rescues to notice the actual geography of the lake.

  “Let’s go check it out,” he said, flashing me a smile over his shoulder that made me feel weak. His green eyes sparkled, and all I could do was nod.

  We paddled over to the other side of the lake, and I tried my best to keep an eye on everyone else to make sure they weren’t having any trouble, while also unable to take my eyes off of James's back. I’d been hoping he’d take his T-shirt off for kayaking, but he didn’t. His back made a perfect V, wide at the shoulders and narrowing at the waist, tall and lean. The shirt tag at the back of his neck was sticking out, and over and over I imagined tucking it gently back in, brushing his skin with my fingers as I did. How soft and hot his skin would feel.

  As we approached the bend, which opened up into a barely-moving creek, another kayak appeared — a couple was leaving the area. Mike and Helen, I reminded myself. I was trying hard to remember my campers’ names. They smiled at us. “Beautiful in here!” Mike called.

  My first thought was that we should stay out of this creek, keep to the lake, but for some reason seeing that Mike and Helen had gone in made me feel like it was okay. Logically, I knew I was the one in charge, but I still looked to others to figure out what was okay and what wasn’t. Lined with evergreen trees, the creek narrowed to probably 20 feet across and just a few feet deep and perfectly clear. Looking down, I could see the outlines of smooth pebbles against the bottom.

  “Look, a fish!” I called to James, and he whipped around to see it with the biggest smile I’ve seen on him yet. We glanced at each other and I think we both felt like we were sharing something special. Who knows. At least I felt that way.

  It was harder to paddle up the creek than it had been in the lake because we were going against the current, but there wasn’t much of a current. Then, as the creek narrowed, I saw a small wooden platform at the edge of the water. “What do you think that’s for?” I asked James, pointing at it.

  “If you don’t know, I sure don’t know,” he said. “People don’t come swimming out here?”

  “Not that I know of,” I said. I must remember to ask Ms. M about that.

  It looked like there was a path leading away from the platform, but it was a bit overgrown, like it hadn’t been used in a few years. The water got shallower and rockier at that point, so we knew it was time to turn around. We were only about 50 feet off the main part of the lake, but it felt very secluded out there. I could see a couple of kayaks on the lake in the distance, but doubted they could see us.

  I knew that I needed to get back out onto the lake in case anyone needed me. But on a whim, quickly before my brain could object, I said, “Want to go for a quick swim before we go back?”

  He smiled at me with that beautiful smile, and before I could say anything more he had slid out of the kayak with a splash, leaving the boat rocking. He emerged from the water looking radiant and held the kayak still for me. I paused for a moment, not sure if I should take my shirt off or whether being in my bikini was beyond what was appropriate for a counselor and camper who were alone together, and then awkwardly maneuvered out of the kayak with my shirt still on. He still wore his as well.

  The water was cold, and I shrieked when it first touched me, but I warmed up quickly after the initial jolt. We looked at each other and laughed. When I stood, the water reached my chest, and my white shirt clung to my breasts and stomach, drawing the outline of my bikini clearly, even from my angle. I wondered how obvious it was to him. I kicked myself for wearing white, but at the same time I didn’t really care. I could feel my nipples harden in this cold water, and wondered whether he could tell.

  His shirt was light-colored too, and I could see the outline of his chest through it. He looked strong without being overly muscular. It was hard to tear my eyes away, but I knew I couldn’t keep looking. I was his camp counselor, after all! I wasn’t supposed to be interested in him this way. I could get fired, the thought of which was horrifying. Even if looking at his beautiful chest was all I wanted to do.

  We pointed out fish to each other, and a turtle sunning itself on a rock. It felt like we were totally alone out there at that moment. Above, the trees formed a canopy and slivers of light shone through on us. It was an amazing moment and I wished it didn’t have to end.

  But I knew I needed to get back out on the lake and make sure everyone else was doing all right.

  On the way back out, another couple kayaks from my group were starting in the inlet, and I felt a weird, slightly sick feeling. What if they had come this way a few minutes earlier? They could see that we were both wet, and I was self-conscious now about my bikini showing through my shirt. But if they’d been here sooner, what would they have thought if they’d seen me and James swimming alone together in our see-through clothes? What if they told Ms. M? Was that crossing a line already? Was I overthinking this?

  I must be more careful. Professional. Adult. My job depends on it.

  Tuesday morning, June 10

  The rest of the day yesterday was pretty good, but kayaking with James was definitely the highlight. I’m already getting bored of cleaning up after the campers (they’re adults — shouldn’t they know how to clean up after themselves?!), and it’s hard to constantly have people asking me for things. I kind of miss being able to go home at the end of a shift, you know?

  Something happened last night that I can’t stop thinking about, and I’m not sure what to make of it. We built a big campfire at the end of the evening and all the campers sat around it making s’mores. It was really fun. It made me nostalgic for something I never actually experienced, summer camp growing up.

  And most of the campers seemed to really enjoy the campfire too. Everyone was sitting around laughing and roasting their marshmallows and having fun, and making fun of the people whose marshmallows caught on fire (the people who laughed loudest always caught their own marshmallows on fire too when it was their turn, so there is some justice in the world). And of course at every campfire there exists the faction of people who claim the totally burnt ones are the only good ones. It’s an eternal debate.

  But then I noticed that James was sitting by himself, a little bit behind everyone else. He wasn’t roasting a marshmallow, and he didn’t look very happy. He looked really lonely, in fact, and I wanted to go up to him and ask what was wrong, but it didn’t seem appropriate. Besides, I’m a little worried that people can tell I’m into him. I can’t have that, not when the no-relationships thing is the biggest rule, certainly not during my very first week here.

  I kept watching him out of the corner of my eye, though. Another college student about my age, one of the campers, started talking to him, and I felt a big pang of jealousy. There are no rules about the campers not forming romantic attachments, after all, and I was worried that she wanted to pursue him. I couldn’t tell what they were saying, but they talked for five or ten minutes and it was like I couldn’t fully breathe during that time, watching their every movement while desperately trying to avoid looking like I was watching them.

  Then James got up and gathered his stuff. He said goodnight to the girl, and as he walked away he gave me a little wave that made my heart jump and said to me, “I’m heading to bed.” I was flattered that he wanted to let me know, but I couldn’t understand why he’d want to leave so early. It was only nine o’clock!

  And that’s when something embarrassing happened. Tiger, one of the other counselors, was sitting by me around the fire, and he saw me watch James go. I thought I was being discreet, but he said to me, “Don’t even bother with that one.”

  I whipped around toward him. “What?” I asked, praying I had misheard. I couldn’t stand the thought of being found out for my crush. What would Ms. M say?

  “Don’t bother,” he said again. “You can’t cra
ck him.”

  At that point Cinnamon, another of the counselors, chimed in. She and Tiger seem to be good friends, and I like the two of them best out of all of my coworkers.

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “He doesn’t open up to anyone.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say, so I tried to play it off like my interest was only as his camp counselor. I think I said something dumb like, “Oh, okay. I just want to be sure he’s happy here at camp.”