Retrace the Lines

Quinn

The steam cakes over my eyelashes and I blink rapidly to try keep them open. Josh's gaze continues to rake over my body and I suddenly feel incredibly vulnerable.

Everything about this is weird. There's something so unsettling about growing up and seeing someone for the first time when they're older. It instantly puts me back in the mind of my childhood self.

A few more seconds pass and his smirk seems to deepen. Our eyes lock and we challenge each other with our silence. Who's going to break first? The quiet is almost teasing us, coiling around and making the dingy bathroom feel far too intimate.

I exhale a shaky breath. It's hard to ignore that Josh has aged well, that's for sure. Although, in many ways he looks the same as he always did. I follow his sharp green eyes to the scar above the arch of his dark eyebrows. A strand of his damp, honey-blond hair dances on his forehead, and the rest is swooped back. My stomach flips as I notice the light scattering of freckles which still pepper the bridge of his nose.

That beautiful, sloped nose.

You can sense the difference in him, though. Behind the cheeky smile there's a seriousness. A confidence.

Of course, this confidence might come from the thick muscles that stretch across his body. I know he's a football player but holy shit. How much time does he spend in the gym? I struggle very hard not to ogle at the hard concaves of his arms, dipping down into his defined chest. My eyes trace the sharp v line which disappears into his towel and I can feel the heat rush to my cheeks.

In short: he's beautiful, and it's really annoying.

Looking back at his face now, I notice a raised eyebrow. He's daring me to speak first. Cheeks still flushed and throat tight, I cough softly.

"What are you doing here?" My voice screams caution.

Amusement laced in his voice, he responds. "Well, I was trying to get changed until you interrupted. But by all means, feel free to stay."

He winks, and I freeze.

My shock lasts for about 2.3 seconds until it hits me. Joshua Hutchinson is still exactly the same.

I roll my eyes. "No, I mean what are you doing here at Mapleton? Are you a camp counsellor too?" Disbelief coats my words.

The moment this question escapes my lips he refuses to meet my eyes. Josh turns his back to me, pawing through the contents of the sink with a certain aloofness.

"Yeah, I am. What else would I be doing here?"

His sudden bored tone sparks an uncomfortable tension in the room. Every pore of me itches to ask him why he chose Rob's camp. Did he know I was coming?

He turns around and I shoot my shot.

"Why would you choose Uncle Rob's camp, when we haven't talked in years?" This comes out more accusatory than I planned.

He considers this for a second, chewing on his lip as he ponders. My thoughts drift to his perfect bottom lip and - to my complete horror – the pit of my stomach starts to tingle.

Finally, he answers me.

"Mom signed me up. It'll look good on my college applications and I didn't bother to try get out of it. You remember how pushy she can be." He runs his fingers through his hair and shoots me a hesitant look before he continues.

"Of course, she shipped me off to this one." He shrugs. "She loves Rob. Plus, you know, our parents still talk. If you're here this year, she probably got the idea from them."