Like Crazy

Women can fake an orgasm, but men can fake an entire relationship.

Ask my ex.

He got tired of waiting and moved on to a sure thing. Kelly I-smile-at-everything Mathers. It's OK. It only feels like open heart surgery, but that's yesterday's news.

Luke Dawson is the real news around here. Yes, I changed the conversation. Seriously though, Luke Dawson is what everybody talks about. Star athlete and sex dream material. His washboard abs make you want to rip every T-shirt in sight, just so he'd have nothing to wear.

He's hot.

Ice cream weather hot. The kind where you'd lick every drop.

Too far? I thought so too before I saw him. And I see him a lot because he lives on my street. Life can throw you a bone like that from time to time.

I peeked out of my bedroom window at Luke now. He was walking up the driveway, gym bag slung across his shoulder. A reincarnation of the sexiest man -

"Millie!"

I jumped as my best friend walked into the room, catching me.

"What are you-" Julia came over and saw exactly what I was looking at, "Keep dreaming girl. That boy was made for a different world."

"I know," I sighed, opening my laptop to log in to Netflix. We were about to re-watch season 3 of TVD. #Delena creates such unrealistic relationship goals and I'm living for it.

"Why would you even have a Netflix account when you have him across the street?" she asked, taking my place at the window, "Can you see his room from here?"

"No," I turned the blinds down before we got any creepier, "Probably for the best."

"Fine," Julia sighed and reluctantly changed subject, "So, are you teaching at that summer camp again?"

"Yeah, I get paid for it. Means I can do fewer hours at the store when school starts," I said.

My family's tight stripped for cash. It doesn't help that my sister has a compulsive shopping habit and my mum is a serial dater. As for my dad? Yeah, your guess is as good as mine.

"Maybe you'll hang out with someone your age this year," Julia joked.

Last summer, I only made friends with the younger kids at camp. People my age tend to ignore me. But truthfully, I could never have predicted what was about to happen. In a matter of weeks, my whole world would be turned upside down, inside out and shaken from side to side. I was a nobody and, don't worry, I still am. But a nobody who knows Luke Dawson is not a nobody at all.

**

Camp Beaver Hill

A sleepover camp for boys and girls aged 8-13. I never went here growing up, so I didn't exactly have camp cheer, but the job paid. I parked my car behind the administration cabin and walked inside.

"Hi Khloe," I greeted the counselor at the 'greeting desk'.

She was a rising senior at my high school and we were both counselors here last year. We even taught a volleyball session together where I shared my protein bars with her (big sacrifice).

"Do I know you?" she asked.

I guess that wasn't enough to be memorable.

"I'm Millie Ripley. I'm a camp counselor here too," I said.

"You're checking in. Sure," she pulled out a set of folders and scanned through them, "Oh. Oh my god. Wait, you're Millie?"

She remembered me? "Yeah!" I said happily, "I gave you my protein b-"

"You're related to him? Oh my god, I had no idea. Oh my god," she kept repeating the same words, "It's crazy to think he's here this summer."

"Who?"

She got out of her chair and came over to give me a hug, "Nice to meet you. My name's Khloe."

"I know who you-"

"This is a map of the camp. I love your shirt by the way. I can show you around."

"I know my way-"

"And you should totally meet my friends. You'll be looking after the Apple campers and staying with him in the-"

"I'm rooming with a boy?" I asked, shocked.

We weren't supposed to room with the opposite gender. The cabins separated girls from boys.

"Yeah, I know it's unorthodox but we had too many female counselors and since you two are related-"

"Who am I related to?"

Seriously. Please answer one question without creating another. Who is this guy?

And that's when the doors opened and a hot breeze swept into the room. We looked over and, standing in the doorway, in all his confident glory, was Luke Dawson.

"I'm here to check in."

His voice was deep and strong. I've never heard him speak before. People tend to speak about him and most admire him from afar, but to hear him up close was a whole new level of... damn.

"You're beautiful," Khloe whispered, starstruck.

"What?" I glanced over at her. Was she ok?

He was checking in while we were checking him out.

"Welcome to Camp Beaver Hill," Khloe tried to collect herself, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Luke Dawson. I still can't believe you're a counselor this summer. We love you. I mean the children love you. I mean the children are going to love you-"

He ignored her, walking over to the front desk. With that attitude, the children are not going to love him.

He saw his folder on the desk. It was the first file in the pile, already open. Khloe had obviously been snooping through his background information before we came in. He gave her an irritated look.

"Where's my room?"

"It's the Apple cabin," Khloe said. But wait, I'm in the... Khloe pointed at me, "With her."

Freeze. Rewind. Who saw that coming?!

For the first time since he got here, Luke Dawson's piercing blue eyes landed on me. "And who are you?"

Right now, I wasn't so sure. Partly because Luke's eyes have that effect on people and mostly because the 'me' I know has a really uneventful life. And nothing about this situation was uneventful.

I couldn't answer him because there was only one thought running through my head....

Holy jumping mother of a weasel in a side-car with chocolate spread and a hot cross bun

Hey, I didn't say I was normal.

I'm 50 inches away from Luke Dawson. From all the hotness dripping off of him, what are the chances some of it will rub off on me?

He's a Michelangelo painting come to life. A temptation in male form to abandon morality and make sin a virtue. If I sound dramatic, it's because I am. I've just been dumped.

"There's been a mistake," Luke said, pointblank. "That can't be my roommate."

"She."

He gave me an irritated glance, "What?"

"I'm a she not a that," I explained.

He ignored me and focused back on Khloe, who was rummaging through a lot of random papers behind the greeter's desk. "I'm so sorry Luke, I don't understand what happened. We thought you were related."

"This has to be a joke," he said, looking around the room as if there were hidden cameras. Khloe now had tears in her eyes, "I didn't mean for you to be living with a rando like this. Especially that one. I'll get my boss to fix this."

She ran into the backroom and came out seconds later with Mr Woodhouse, the Camp Director. His sunglasses were perched on his cap and he was eating a Cliff bar. He was the woodsy type for sure. "Luke!" Mr Woodhouse exclaimed, "Our national basketball champion! We're thrilled you agreed to this. You're raising the bar on our athletic capabilities by just being here."

Luke folded his muscular arms across his chest and nodded in my direction, "Why am I rooming with her?" He does not beat around the bush.

"It's an honest mistake, son. We thought you two were siblings. You live in the same house."

"We don't."

"We live across the street from each other," I said.

"We do?"

"Yes Luke, we do," I mumbled, embarrassed that I was coming across as a creep.

Or a friendly neighbor. I mean, he should know this! I've lived across his house my whole life. He used to kick his soccer ball into our front yard all the time.

"You both have the same address. Look," Mr Woodhouse showed our applications.

My address was 4 Dupont Avenue and his was... 4 Dupont Avenue.

"You put my house as yours?" I asked him, shocked.

Was this, like, my claim to fame now? I'm joking.

Sort of.

"No, that's my house," he disagreed, reading aloud, "9 Dupont Avenue."

"That's a nine?" Mr Woodhouse brought the page closer to his face, squinting. I leant over his shoulder to re-read the address myself. His 9 was written like a 4.

"It's chicken scratch," I commented.

Khloe and Mr Woodhouse glared at me. I guess no one appreciates humor at Luke's expense. Jeez, is he sacred now? They probably capitalize His pronoun.

"So, you're not related," Mr Woodhouse contemplated the ramifications of our rooming situation, "Shit." "We could trade places," Khloe eagerly jumped in, "I volunteer to share the cabin with Luke."

What a sacrifice.

"You're a female who's also not related to him," Mr Woodhouse pointed out how her solution solved none of the problems. "Luke, I could be in a lot of trouble for messing up your situation. You're the MVP here. Do you mind tolerating the girl for a few days until we figure something out? I'll reshuffle the cabins, so you can sleep in whichever one you like. In the meantime, you both have separate bedrooms within the cabin."

A yellow bus pulled up outside and we heard noises. Happy campers were squeezed inside, excited for their first day. Think Minions.

Luke was unwilling to deal with that right now.

"I'll give you three days to fix this," he growled, grabbing the keys from the desk, "Otherwise I'm out."

No one asked me if I was ok with this arrangement. My opinion didn't seem to matter.

Luke left. Mr Woodhouse returned to his office and Khloe took a couple deep meditative breaths to realign her chakra.

I get it. Luke can really mess up a girl's chakra.

**

Apple Cabin was a beautiful wooden cabin by a crystal blue lake. The interior was decorated with soft rugs and wooden furniture. I dropped my duffel bag in the kitchen area and found myself face-to-face with the devil himself.

"Us, related? What an insult."

One second in and he's already insulted me. Great start.

"Who even writes a nine like that?" I snapped back. It's his fault we're in this mess in the first place.

"I do."

"The top is so pointy and you've got the line coming out of the side. It looks like a four!"

"You know what else looks like a four?" Luke smirked. Me. I was a four. Ha. Ha.

"You're so immature," I scowled. His smirk widened.

I tried to ignore how flawless he looked. How his chiseled features were accentuated by his blue eyes and messy hair. How his presence took over a room, like he could belong anywhere. And here I was; a girl who fit in nowhere.

I stared down at my worn-out jeans and red t-shirt with white polka dots on it. I had to get out of here. "I heard the campers arrive. I'll go collect our group," I said, backing out of the room and almost tripping over on my way out.

I got into my car and revved the engine. I put the old gal in reverse and was pulling out of the parking spot when someone banged the hood of my trunk.

"STOP!" Luke appeared in my rearview window. But it was too late. I tried to stop but not before the tires rolled over-

CRACK

I screamed. I screamed like a maniac and was so spastic at taking my seatbelt off it took me three minutes. I slammed the car door open and when I made it to the back, Luke was already kneeling.

Of course, I wasn't registering who I was talking to or who I was dealing with. I literally ran up to him and dropped to my knees, falling against him. The force should have pushed him over, but he was strong and it didn't affect him. With one arm he kept me steady, not even looking at me.

"WHAT HAPPENED?! WHO'D I HIT?! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! WHAT HAVE I DONE?!"

I screamed. I was panting. I was practically hysterical.

"I'VE NEVER GOTTEN A TICKET IN MY LIFE! Once I almost ran over a raccoon in the driveway, but I swerved just in time and hit my mother's flower pot, but it was ok because I saved the raccoon! I CAN'T believe I DID this!" I screamed.

There were some other counselors and campers walking up the cobbled pathways to the neighboring cabins. They were all staring at us now. Literally everyone. I couldn't tell how embarrassed Luke was to be seen with me –since emotion barely crossed his face– but I'm sure it was off the charts.

I paused. I was breathing heavily. There was no body under the car so at least I wasn't a murderer. What a relief.

He waited for me to stop. Finally, he asked, "Are you done?"

His voice was smooth and seductive. It instantaneously calmed me and, looking at him now, I felt like I was being transported to heaven.

"I...glub gar fle... fle," I gave up trying to speak. He got me tongue-tied.

"You ran over my bag. I think you broke my laptop."

So, I may have overreacted. Just a little bit.

**

"I didn't mean to destroy your stuff," I said, "I'm a good driver I swear. I dodged a raccoon in my driveway once."

He covered his beautiful face with his hand, "How is that story even a story?"

"Well you had to be there; it was very dramatic at the time," I said, getting defensive about my story-telling.

"What's your name again?"

Crickets.

He shook his head, "Look, I don't care. Can you get back in your car so that I can get my bag and leave?"

Luke wasn't too keen on my company. That was already obvious when he tried to trade out of our rooming arrangement. Now, I became his biggest nuisance. "I..."

I felt bad. But I got in my car and he grabbed his bag and left, just like he said he would. The mouse-side of me wanted to stay here and hide. And usually, mouse-side wins. But today of all days, a more aggressive version emerged. Let's call it tiger-side. Yes, I cringed at that too.

"Wait!"

I called out to him in the middle of our driveway, just as he reached the threshold of our cabin door. He stopped, confused. I mustered up the courage and got out of the car. "You didn't let me say sorry. It was an accident."

He sighed, the powerful muscles in his shoulder moving as he adjusted the straps. "Look, I don't want to be here and we don't have to play nice. Just stay out of my way."

He opened the front door. "Hey. HEY!" I was surprised by my resolve, "You don't get to say things like that and leave. I don't care who you are, I'm trying to apologize here! And I'll pay you back for anything I ruined."

He looked me up and down. "I doubt that."

"You insinuating I'm cheap? I swear I'm going to pay you back for every cent that I owe you. Even if you don't deserve it. I mean, who leaves their bag on the ground in the first place?! That was a stupid-"

"Is this an apology or an insult?"

"Can't it be both?"

"Doesn't work like that. You don't get to break my laptop and curse me out." He turned his back on me, pushing open the front door with a brush of his hand. "You started it!" I yelled out. Way to be mature, Millie... Yeah, I screwed up. But I was going to try my best to make up for it. It was the right thing to do.

Even if he was a jerk.

Sometimes, life can be a game of Russian roulette. We don't know when we're rolling the cylinder.

For example, when I showed up at camp today, I never expected my number to be up. This summer, I was living with a sex symbol.

Luke Dawson.

What does he wear to bed? Does he chill with his shirt off? Will my evenings become live screenings of Magic Mike? Legitimate questions. I've heard what girls say about him... "What's that smell?"

"Nature."

I took a deep breath as Luke and I faced the 10 hyper campers racing up the path to our cabin, screaming and running around in circles. We had pulled the short straw – landing with the youngest set of campers (8-year-olds) to look after. "No, I really smell something," I insisted.

"Not my problem."

"Do you think you can try being a decent person today?"

"Who says I'm not trying?"

Ugh. This boy.

He looked irresistible in a white shirt, black shorts and Nike zoom sneakers. His athletic physique was obvious. I've seen him like this before but usually it's behind the safety of my bedroom window. And usually without his cocky mouth ruining the look. It's amazing how a personality can dent an iconic image. Do other people know he's an entitled, arrogant jerk? Or is that just my special treat?

"Someone help me! I've burnt the cookies!" a counselor from the cabin next door came running out her front door.

I knew I smelt something.

Luke stared at the engraved name on our neighbor's cabin, paying no attention to the counselor in need. "Banana Cabin?"

"All the groups are named after fruit," I said and watched his expression turn to disgust. "Please! Can someone help?" she called out again, clearly looking at us.

"Do you think she'll go away?" he asked, squinting under the sunlight.

"What?! No!" I stared at him like he was delusional, "She needs help!"

"AHHHHHHHH!" the 8-year-old campers swarmed past us and invaded our previously serene cabin. It was the beginning of hell. "You handle that," he referred to the absolute destruction going on inside our own cabin as he started to walk towards our friendly neighbor. "Are you seriously leaving me to this?" I called out.

"Be kind to neighbors," he called back, and I could hear the smirk in his voice.

What does he know about being kind to neighbors? I am his neighbor. And I don't even think he knows my name.

"I told you I smelt something," I muttered under my breath.

Cookies. Yum.

**

Luke never came back. I had to settle six different bunking disagreements like I was the United Nations. Then I found the first aid kit for a kid who bruised her knee climbing her bunkbed. And then I spent thirty minutes comforting a crying boy who missed his mummy. Not to mention getting them all to shut up so I could run them through the camp rules.

Finally, and I mean finally, a little bus came to take them to the mess hall for dinner. They billowed past me like a hurricane, while screaming out random foods.

"Pancakes!"

"Hot dogs!"

They were really excited for dinner.

"Nutella!"

OK, that kid's my favorite.

I collapsed into a chair, exhausted. My clothes were already dirty, and my hair was all over the place. I probably even have worry lines etched into my forehead. I've aged a lot in the last four hours.

Where is he?

Luke had gone over to 'rescue' our neighbor's oven and I got radio silence from him ever since. Good teamwork, Luke. I eventually stood up and went to search for him. What was he doing over there? As I stepped outside, I breathed in the fresh air and gazed at the luscious green trees around me. A blue lake spread out before me. The beauty of Camp Beaver Hills is its natural landscape. Banana Cabin was identical to ours. Except that the counselors there had 13-year-old girls to look after, so it was much calmer. They were also at dinner now. I peered through a window and saw a dozen camp counselors hanging out in the kitchen. Someone had brought alcohol and they were all chilling together. Cool kids central, I guess.

I've never been invited.

I saw Luke in the center of it all, leaning back in a chair with a beer in his hand. His carefree style was contagious. He genuinely looked charming...

How deceiving that was.

"Woah," someone pointed in my direction, "What is that?" Me? I looked like a crazy person, staring through the window with my uncombed hair and wild eyes. I ducked into the bushes, overhearing someone say, "She fell into the bushes... I don't know. Some weirdo watching us."

Oh my god. I prayed no one would find me. I stayed in hiding, no matter how uncomfortable it became. The little branches were rubbing against my skin and I was pretty sure an ant crawled into my shoe.

"Hey."

I looked up. Luke was leaning out of the window, his arms casually crossed over the ledge. He didn't look surprised to see me. He probably expected it.

"Hi hey, how's it going? You fix the oven situation already?" I asked, pretending like this was no big deal. I hang out in bushes all the time.

"You ok down there?" "Me? Ok? Yeah!" I exclaimed way too enthusiastically, and the movement made a branch hit the corner of my mouth. I spat out dirt, "This is the best day."

A smile crept at the corner of his lips.

**

I was in the shower when Luke returned from our neighbor's cabin. She had gifted him a tray of her cookies, which he did not touch. My gift was a few scratches on my legs and one on my cheek. My elbow was a bit red too. Steam clouded the air as I turned the heat up. I take hot showers and turn them into my own personal concert. So I had no idea Luke was home, since I was too busy singing.

"PLEASE HAVE MERCY ON ME, TAKE IT EASY ON MY HEART. EVEN THOUGH YOU DON'T MEAN TO HURT ME-"

I have a terrible voice. I know you probably expected a voice of an angel... OK you didn't. But I was going all out anyway, high pitched and off-tune, scrubbing my hair with another layer of shampoo, pretending that the bottle was my microphone.

"WOULD YOU PLEASE HAVE MERCY, MEEEEERCY ON MY HEAR-"

"Is a cat dying in here?"

I screamed and dropped the shampoo bottle onto the ground. I almost slipped over it, struggling to contain myself in the shower. "Luke?!" Sometimes the heat can make you see things. Or else, this was the beginning of a porno.

I watched a dark shadow form on the other side of the curtain – the outline of a tall boy with broad shoulders. Like a Color Me book, I filled in the rest.

His confident, deep voice answered from the other side. "Singing Shawn Mendes?"

"Why are you in my bathroom?" "I'm asking you for mercy."

Oh my god.

Kill me now.

I have not gone through this much humiliation in a while. First, I end up in the bushes under a window and now I sing like a dying cat...

"I'll stop singing," I granted him his mercy, "If you get out of my bathroom."

"Okay." His shadow did not move.

"Luke! Now!"

What was he doing? Was he going to join me? I was not ready for him to see me naked. We just spoke for the first time in my life today and now this has escalated-

"Stop freaking out. I'm not hitting on you."

"So what are you doing?!" I was getting impatient. The shampoo was dripping down my neck like goo.

"I need toothpaste."

This is about toothpaste? The boy walked in on me mid-shower for some toothpaste?

"Why can't we talk about it after I finish my shower?"

"I might be deaf by then."

I gritted my teeth, "I'll stop singing. Now this might be the first time a girl has ever said this to you Luke, but get out."

"First time a boy has walked in on you?"

My silence spoke volumes.

"It's not my first time, Minnie."

I gasped and gripped the curtain, terrified he was about to join me. He chuckled at my reaction and strolled out the door, toothpaste in hand, "We're not that close. Keep dreaming though."

"I was not!" I give up.

"Settle down, everyone! I can see you're ready to rock and rolllllllll!" Mr Woodhouse yelled into the microphone. He was casually transforming into Elvis Presley.

We were in an open-air theater for our first all-counselor meeting. It may sound fancy, but it's just a few benches around a wooden stage. Mr Woodhouse wanted to make introductions and run us through our duties for the summer.

I sat by myself in one of the rows. People had filled all the other benches except for mine, like I was a virus or something. I recognized a lot of the counselors from last year but, unfortunately, no one seemed to remember me. I watched how they chatted with each other, catching up on life. It made me wish I had someone to talk to, but I suppose it's ok if I don't really know what I'm missing. You can't miss what you never had. Right?

Luke and I separated on our way over here. He got stopped by a group of girls and I didn't wait to hear how they'd inflate his ego even more. Mr Woodhouse continued, "I know you're a bunch of hormone-driven teenagers ready for me to get off the stage, but there are some responsibilities this summer. We're going to lay down the ground rules and-"

Luke walked into the theater in the middle of Mr Woodhouse's intro. Every head turned to him. Whispers escalated up the rows like a tidal wave, until gossip exploded amongst the crowd. His name was popping up in conversations all around the theater and some people took photos of him. He hadn't expected that reaction.

"Luke Dawson!" Mr Woodhouse announced into the microphone, pivoting from Elvis impersonator to game show host, "Welcome to the wonderfully warm Camp Beaver family! With you here, everyone can see this is the place to be!"

OK. Luke has already become a camp marketing tool. I guess I'm not surprised. His face is probably on the front of next year's brochure. "Why don't you have a seat, Luke?" Mr Woodhouse said, "Who's your partner again?"

"It's uh..." Did he seriously not remember my name? His eyes locked on me. "Millie," I mouthed.

"It's Minnie," he repeated louder.

Millie, you ass.

"Wonderful. We're all about dream teams, here. Our famous Counselor Cup is a prize awarded to the best counselor duo at the end of the summer. Anyway, Tamara why don't you kick us off with the logistics?"

Tamara, the resident summer camp beauty queen, stood up to address the counselors. She was Mr Woodhouse's niece and happened to be a runway model. I think she was going to college at Miami Dade in the fall. Last summer, every guy here wanted to hook up with her.

Luke sat down next to me. He had a lot of space to settle down in, since my row was empty. I tried to ignore the stares that were coming our way. "Are you saving these seats?" he asked, wondering why the bench was so empty.

"No." I let the silence hang out. I didn't need to admit to Luke Dawson that I don't have friends.

People were still staring at him. I felt awkward being so close to so much attention. I snuck a glance at Luke. He seemed used to it.

Hot boy problems.

Can't relate.

**

The birds were chirping, and the rising sun cast a golden glow over the treetops. Camp Beaver Hills was an idyllic paradise, away from the gritty world that I grew up in. I woke up the next morning, undisturbed by my family screaming or the lights shutting off because mum had forgotten to pay the bills. It felt like Goldilocks let me borrow her cottage.

I got out of bed, wearing fluffy green pajamas, and walked to the kitchen. I never expected to see this.

Tamara in a thong and a t-shirt, eating my fruit loops. "Are those my fruit loops?" Because that was the first question on my mind.

"I don't know, are they?" she replied in an uninterested voice, "You could do with eating less." Ohh she went there. I watched her eat another spoonful.

Tamara was the beauty queen of our summer camp and an actual model in the real world. I've never spoken to her. She always walked around camp with her admirers. And yet here she was, eating my fruit loops.

"Does Luke know you're here?" "What do you think?" she retorted.

Less than 24 hours into summer camp and they've already....

"Why are you asking me so many questions?" she asked.

"Because you're half naked in my kitchen," I answered.

I heard a deep voice laugh. Tamara jumped at the sound of him. She spruced her hair and pouted seductively as she spun to face Luke. Dawson. The reason why the hottest girl in camp was having a sleepover in my cabin.

I looked over and understood why the girls here fawn over him. Luke was leaning against the doorway, one arm raised against the door frame, watching us. How could his blue eyes be so bright in the morning? I swear mine were still half closed. And his hair was messy in an I-just-woke-up way that was so flipping irresistible. Meanwhile, I had my night braces and fluffy pajamas on. I need coffee.

He walked towards us and Tamara visibly perked up. She wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss him, but he barely kissed back. He opened the fridge, separating them. "Your roommate's obsessed with me," she pouted, adjusting her shirt to half cover her ass.

He took out a carton of eggs and uncooked bacon, "Is that right?"

I could see the smirk on his perfectly pink lips. He sprayed oil into a pan and heated it, clearly unaffected by her comment. Tamara sidled up to his side, nudging the salt and pepper closer to help him. She cooed at him, "She was asking so many questions about us. People are so jealous." The sound of eggs cracking into a pan and sizzling made me hungry. I grabbed the carton of fruit loops and stared inside... ok, Tamara didn't eat much. I poured myself a bowl. "Where's the hot sauce, Millie?"

I looked up. I think that was the first time he ever said my name. And it was in a sentence with hot sauce.

"Um... upper cupboard I think," I pointed with my spoon, "Can you pass me the milk?"

Luke slid his eggs onto a plate and grabbed his hot sauce from the top shelf. He chucked a small carton of milk in my direction. I freaked out. I thought he would hand it to me or slide it along the countertop but THROW without warning?! I'm not coordinated! I tried to dive for it – which was silly since he aimed it perfectly towards me – so I basically moved out of the way. I missed it. And as I was falling against the adjacent bar stool, I tried to twist around and catch it again but only ended up plastered on the floor like a pretzel.

From down on the floor, I heard Luke's clear voice say, "I'm still getting used to this."

**

Tamara had to leave before the 8AM bugle call. It was a daily camp tradition: a kid plays the trumpet into a loudspeaker to wake everyone up. At the sound of the bugle call, our campers would be getting out of bed. And any 'big kid' sleepovers had to be kept under wraps.

Luke still hadn't met any of our campers. We had ten 8-year-olds to look after. I went into their room to check that they were getting up and making their bunk beds. One of the girls, Alicia, asked if I would help plait her hair. In thirty minutes, they were all dressed and ready for the day. 8-year-olds know how to tie their shoes. The little bus pulled up outside our cabin like clockwork to take them to breakfast and then for their day of activities. As camp counselors, we had to help with some of the activities. I think I was doing volleyball again.

I dressed into a relatively sporty outfit – tracksuits and a white t-shirt – and when I came out of my room, I found Luke standing beside his laptop.

His broken laptop.

The one I crushed with my car.

"I need a favor," he announced.

His voice was silky smooth, which made it so tempting to do whatever he wanted. I'm sure that's what he was used to. Girls saying yes to anything.

"Sorry, I'm all out of those," I said.

Since meeting Luke, I had tripped and fallen too many times to count. I was not about to volunteer any more time with him.

"I wasn't asking."

"Excuse you?" Was this boy tripping?

"This favor is worth $50."

A bribe? Hell no. "You can keep the money."

There was a mischievous glint in his eye, "I plan to. You're the one who owes me a new laptop."

And just like that I remembered how I stupidly swore to pay him back for every cent. I stared at his laptop on the counter. There was a giant dent in the middle where my car ran over it.

"You want me to do you a favor... and you'll deduct it from the cost of the laptop?"

"You're a genius," he said sarcastically. "Is that your way of saying thank you?"

"Is this your way of apologizing?" He opened the laptop and pressed on. A screeching sound and rows of neon green, red and black lights flashed across the screen. I cringed.

He smirked, shutting the computer, "I'll wait for you in the car."

Damn, this was an expensive mistake.

I was torn. Were we really about to bail on our responsibilities as counselors? We had work today. I need this job.

Luke's voice penetrated my thoughts. "You didn't leave something in the driveway, did you? I don't want to run anything over. I'm responsible like that."

UGH!

"I saved a raccoon once!" True story. I swerved my car out of the way just in time.

But my protest fell on uncaring ears.

I sighed and reluctantly grabbed my purse. "Where are we going, Luke?"

Again, no response. I guess this would be a surprise. Like most things involving Luke.

A black Jeep wrangler was parked in our driveway, next to my beat-up car. Luke walked towards it; flashing lights as he unlocked the doors.

"Don't touch anything," he said, before I barely slipped into the passenger seat.

"I didn't ask to come with you."

He ignored me, pressing his hand behind my headrest. I breathed in his musky scent. He was close to me and the sunlight glinted off his tanned skin. With his left hand on the steering wheel, he drove us in reverse down the winding pathway. "Luke, this is a bad idea. We can't skip camp like this. They'll notice-"

"Can you relax?"

I quietened, and he glanced over at me, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It was a genuine question. You're uptight about everything."

"Because I don't get second chances. This job means something to me. If I screw up, I'm out. Unlike you, no one's begging me to be here and they'll fire me just as easily." "I get it." "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Does that mean we can go back?"

"No."

I frowned, staring down at my hands. "Please, please, can't I do this favor later?"

He chuckled. "Stop laughing at me, I'm being serious. Look at my serious face. Look!"

He did.

I looked demented.

Luke swerved to the side of the road and stopped the car. I had no idea what to expect. He grabbed his phone and dialed, his piercing blue eyes staying fixed on me the entire time.

"Hey man, what's up?" I was flailing my hands, mouthing "Let's go back!" This was not the time for a casual phone call. We were runaway camp counselors. Sounds so lame when I say it like that.

He flicked my hands away, still on the phone, "I'm getting distracted by an annoying wasp. Listen man, can you do me a favor? Cover for..." he looked at me.

"Millie. Ripley." I repeated my name for the 10,355,763 time. My arms stopped flailing. Was he actually helping me?

"Cover for Millie Ripley. No one needs to know she's not at camp. She'll be back tonight."

And just like that, he hung up and revved the engine. I stared at him. So that's what life as Luke Dawson was like. Everything was easy. No problems at all.

He ramped up the speed, driving fast on the highway. I rolled the window down, letting the wind rush through my hair.

"You call me an ungrateful jerk," he smirked, "but you don't say thank you either."

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Thank you for kidnapping me from summer camp."

"You're welcome, Millie."

He said my name.

My actual name. And I liked the way he said it. Is that bad?

**

I don't know what this favor was about, but whatever it was, we arrived. Luke smoothly parked while I stared at my surroundings.

We were at the beach.

It was almost two hours away from our hometown but only forty minutes away from camp. A place for cotton candy and surfing and why on earth would Luke be taking me here? What favor could I possibly do for him on the beach?

We stepped out. Luke fit the beach scene like a model in a photoshoot. Girls stared at him as he walked by. His confidence, his rugged handsomeness; he had that effect on people. They couldn't help being attracted to him. Luke turned around, the sunlight glinting against his jet-black hair. "You coming?"

Me. That's right. Luke was calling me.

I felt like the polar opposite to his existence. When Luke was created, nature needed to balance itself out by creating something unattractive. I'm not looking for pity, I promise. I'm just repeating what others have told me. Some of us don't turn into a stunner, no matter how much you Princess Diaries our hair.

I joined him and we walked onto the beach, side by side. I was a very uncool sidekick. He needed to be with an Angelina Jolie tomb raider type. I was... dude, they don't even have Hollywood characters like me.

He strolled across the beach, while I huffed and puffed because of all the sand seeping into my shoes.

"Can you hurry up?"

"I'm trying."

"You're walking like a penguin."

"Well if you told me where we were going, I would have dressed better," I huffed.

"Your lack of fashion sense seems permanent."

"Watch it. I'm doing you a favor."

"Oh right. I'm really grateful you broke my laptop."

"You left it in the driveway."

I hadn't realized it, but Luke and I were face-to-face, his minty breath in my nostrils. The sand in my shoes stopped irritating me. And instead of sinking into the sand, I felt like I was sinking into his blue eyes. They blended into the color of the ocean behind him. "Yo Dawson!"

Luke jumped away from me like he'd caught on fire. I turned around and saw a gorgeous boy emerge from the water like something out of a Baywatch scene. He shook his head and water sprayed out of his hair. He was carrying a surfboard under his arm, with washboard abs to match.

Forgive me for drooling.

"Austin," Luke greeted the boy, "brother."

"You guys look nothing alike," I said.

Austin laughed a beautiful laugh. "It's just a saying. We're not brothers. Funny girl you got there, Luke. Where'd you find her?"

"Not my type, is she?"

"You're not hers either." I said.

Austin extended a hand, "Austin Taylor. Nice to meet you."

A boy with manners. How refreshing.

"Millie. Nice to meet you."

His handshake was strong and firm.

"Millie's helping us out with the thing." Luke dropped an arm around his friend's shoulder, looking more relaxed than I'd seen him at camp.

"Does she have the nerve to follow through?"

"She's our only option. Trust me, I would've gone with anyone else." And there's the jerk side. They walked off, catching up and laughing over stories I couldn't hear. I tried to hurry after them but the sand in my shoes were burning my feet.

I still had no idea what favor Luke wanted from me. I was on the beach with two hot boys and we were about to do 'a thing' –sounds dirty- but a thing that would take $50 off the ridiculous amount that I owed Luke for his computer...

Any ideas? Nada, zilch?

I sighed and caught up with them just as they entered a beachside restaurant. The Surfside Shack.