Cabin Three // h.s. au

s i x

A Summer's Eve on the Royal Throne.

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s i x :

Warm, rusty well water fell down in small droplets, leisurely trilling down my disrobed chest. I pinched my eyes shut, pursing my lips and forcing a breath out of my nose as I let the soap vanish from my soft cheeks.

I looked down at my bare body, slapping my thighs and tummy into the rhythm of Queen's, "We Will Rock You," mumbling the lyrics to myself, water dripping down my face and being set free and jumping off my lip.

"Five minutes!" Louise, whom I had discovered was Cecil's married half-sister, shouted out at all of the girls in the showers, informing us that the water was going to be shut off soon. The short, gruffly groans of tired women echoed through the hall of shower stalls, toilets, and used tampon littered floors.

I shut off the water, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my body. I had forgotten to bring my own towels, but luckily, Stevie knew where the camp's extra towels were. However, they were probably the smallest, cheapest, plainest towels they could buy. I couldn't even wrap a whole one around my body, and it didn't go past my bum. Towels are not made for tall people, okay? It's horrid.

Wearing three towels, with my whole right thigh hanging out, I walked through the halls where girls in towels roamed around, and then the occasional naked woman, slipping her clothes on.

I walked into a stall, slipping black undergarments on, a black cami, a navy blue shirt with my school's logo on it, a way too large lion on the back of it, and light, washed out- you guessed it- high waisted shorts.

Before you ask, no, I never wore anything other than high waisted.

Down with the low-rise denim.

I walked to the mirror, concealing my imperfections, applying nude eyeshadow, and eyeliner with baby wings. I pulled my hair in a pony, messing it up so that my face didn't look like it was being pulled back like a bad Botox.

Making my way to breakfast, I couldn't help but notice the sweet call of the birds back and forth. The scent that could be nothing other than the woods in summertime consumed me, a small content smile growing across my face. The sound was so perfect, it made me question if it was real. Perhaps it was a recording, or some one's alarm on their phone.

The peace was short lived, due to the low humming of a motor that increased in volume until I was almost hit by a whooping Harry Styles, with his red-haired friend short behind him.

"I'VE GOT YOU NOW, ANDREWS!"

"YOU CHEATED, F.UCKER!"

"Boys! Do not swear!"

"Yeah, Styles! Watch your goddam.n f.ucking language."

"Oliver, I swear to God-"

"Whoa, there Davey, calm your tits."

"Harry, you better slow down, you, irresponsible, immature fuc-" Mr. Davids finally took notice of my existence and looked at me, with my wide eyes, and I think I was suffering from whiplash, from having to turn my head to much, from ATV, to ATV, to Mr. Davids. He looked down at me, and back at the boys, who were far gone now, having sped away. Fixing his shirt, he cleared his throat. "Miss Flynn." He curtly nodded, and I stood still frozen with my eyebrows together and my lips tucked between my teeth to contain the laughter threatening to echo through out the woody terrain of the camp. He walked away and I let out a breath of laughter, returning my focus to carrying myself down the path to the mess hall.

When arriving at the mess hall, the woman I had earlier presumed to be Harry's mother, was indeed confirmed, when I saw her beckoning him off the table.