LISA
I hate myself for drinking last night.
Why I decided last night was the night to finally relax a little and do what I want I’ll never know. I never quite reached being drunk, but the consequences of slow constant drinking to stay buzzed is almost worse. It means this entire drive has been even more tiring and even longer than it needed to be with a small, low ache in the base of my head. If I’d gotten black out drunk I would have gone to bed alone and I might have had a good night’s sleep for once.
Not sleeping isn’t anything new for me and, after years of sporadic, light slumber, my body operates pretty well on empty. This drive has been rough though and I’m seriously regretting driving instead of flying.
If I’d flown, I could have had several more hours in bed, instead of having to get up and get on the road first thing. Henry and Robbie waved me off, both red-eyed and practically still asleep, mumbling something about rescuing me from horses and cows if I needed them to, but it meant a lot anyway and for the first time in forever, I feel excited to come back to Sycamore Hills at the end of summer and see my roommates.
Maybe if I’d flown, I wouldn’t have spent the past four hours thinking about the woman in my bed last night. Well, in my bed until she wasn’t. I should accept it for what it was; a one-night stand between two consenting adults. Not something I usually do, generally it takes more than one night for me to get the confidence to make a move, but she was so confident and I wanted to match it.
I’m kicking myself for not saying more to her while I had the chance to. Although, maybe her leaving and telling me without any words that she wasn’t interested in anything more is easier in the long run. I spent so long in the bathroom hyping myself up with one of JJ’s silly pep talks to convince myself to ask her if she wanted to go on a date when I get home from camp, that if she’d rejected me to my face, I’d have probably locked myself back in the bathroom.
Yeah, it was a blessing she left without saying goodbye.
Message received.
One-night only.
I probably made a fool of myself but there was something in her gaze, in her smile when I looked at her. Maybe she pitied me, that would make more sense, to be honest. Pity or not, I’ve spent the past several hours torturing myself with the memory of her soft skin beneath my fingers and her moans in my ear. I know I won’t see her again and I should probably just forget about her, but sometimes it’s not that easy.
If I remember how fucking unbelievable she felt maybe it’ll dull the feeling of disappointment that I didn’t get to ask her out.
The stones crunch under my tires as I turn into the large dirt track adjacent to the huge Welcome to Honey Acres sign. Anticipation drowns all the other feelings in my body and it hits me that I’m finally here after so much waiting. I didn’t go to sleepaway camp when I was younger because my family couldn’t afford it. Mom was reluctant to commit to anything so far in the future, never knowing whether Dad’s paycheck was going on the bills or a bet.
She wouldn’t look at places for kids in families with financial insecurity, because she was too busy pretending things were fine. I didn’t get it when I was younger, which I’m thankful for in many ways, because for a long time I just thought she liked having me and my brother home.
But like everything else, I’ve gotten myself here. I might not be a kid anymore, but I’ll get to see what I was missing all those years and, even better, I’ll get paid for it.
In the distance, a huge log cabin appears and, as I get closer, parked cars and a bus decorated in Honey Acres branding come into view. Pulling into an empty space, I take a deep breath and give myself a minute to adjust. It looks exactly like the brochure, even down to the people wandering around with their bags looking excited.
