Musically Gifted? Well, I Used to Play the Recorder...

Eleven: It's Times Like These When I Wish I Had Boobs

Eleven: It's Times Like These When I Wish I had Boobs

I am definitely suffering from insomnia.

            Well, why else would I be waking up at 7am after getting absolutely zero hours of sleep (excluding the fifteen minutes where I drifted off and then woke myself up by falling out of bed)?

            Oh, yeah. It just might be because my mind was racing at the speed of light, replaying the events of that day over and over again until I start to become unsure of whether the scene is just a figment of my overactive imagination. It could be true; I have created the moment of Blake kissing me probably close to one thousand times, so why would this particular thought be any different?

            Because it actually happened.

            It still hasn’t sunk in. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve just lost my kissing virginity to the hottest guy at camp. Even the words sound foreign in my head. Well, it’s not every day you get to make out with the guy of your dreams.

            Okay, okay... so maybe it wasn’t quite making out. But considering my lack of experience with anyone without boobs (excluding me), it might as well have been.

            Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.                   

            It was even worth being put through the punishment of having to swim in the lake. And that’s saying something.

            Even though I should feel contented solely with my new found feeling of ecstasy, I can’t help but feel a bit of triumph seeping in. Because as blatant as Cindy may be around Blake... I’m pretty sure they haven’t made out.

            Fine, kissed.

             I should probably get up, actually. Breakfast is soon and I don’t think there’s been a morning where I’ve got the boys down to the dining hall on time yet. Jenny is almost inevitably doubting my ability as a counselor (I suppose she’s got a right to, considering the spaghetti incident, the lake incident, the dining hall brawl and just general uncontrollable behavior of the kids in my cabin), and I’m desperate to prove her wrong.

            Does spending time making out with another counselor count as responsible behavior?

            I hope so.

            “Bailey!”

            Ugh... great. Which one of the kids is calling me? I can’t tell; the sound is muffled from traveling through the wall that separates the two rooms. At least it doesn’t sound like Jake, which is a relief.

            I better go and see what they want. The quicker I go, the quicker I get back here to continue my daydreaming about Blake’s lips. Oh, those lips...

            “Yeah?” I call in the direction of the other room, as I approach the door. My hand reaches out and grabs the handle, which allows me to push back the barrier between my room and the main cabin. I start to walk through, but as my left foot lands on the wooden floor, it slips forward immediately, which in turn causes me to lose my footing.

            My butt collides with the wooden boards rather unexpectedly, forcing a rather attractive “Oof!” sound out of my mouth. Okay, I’m aware that I’m not exactly the epitome of gracefulness, but I don’t usually trip over thin air.

            I’m about to try and scramble to my feet and act as cool as possible, but I don’t get the chance. This is because, in a matter of seconds, something wet and slimy is dumped over my head, drenching me immediately.