Chapter 6

Meanwhile, I stood there in my fluffy pajamas and night braces, desperately in need of coffee.

Zenon strolled toward us, and Tamara instantly straightened up, wrapping her arms around his neck to kiss him. He barely kissed her back before casually pulling away to open the fridge, creating space between them.

"Your roommate is totally obsessed with me," she pouted, adjusting her shirt just enough to half-cover her ass.

Zenon pulled out a carton of eggs and a pack of uncooked bacon. "Is that so?"

I caught the slight smirk playing on his perfectly pink lips as he grabbed a pan and sprayed oil into it, completely unbothered by her comment.

Tamara scooted closer, nudging the salt and pepper toward him in an attempt to be helpful. She purred, "She kept asking so many questions about us. People get so jealous."

The sound of eggs cracking and sizzling filled the room, making my stomach growl. I picked up the carton of Froot Loops and peered inside… okay, maybe Tamara hadn’t eaten that much after all. I poured myself a bowl.

"Where’s the hot sauce, Candace?"

I froze. Pretty sure that was the first time he had ever said my name. And, of course, it was in the same sentence as hot sauce.

"Uh… top cupboard, I think," I replied, pointing with my spoon. "Can you pass me the milk?"

Zenon slid his eggs onto a plate, reached for the hot sauce on the top shelf, and—without looking—tossed a small carton of milk in my direction.

Panic shot through me.

I thought he’d hand it to me or at least slide it across the counter—but throw it? Without warning?! I’m not exactly the most coordinated person!

I panicked and lunged for it—completely unnecessary, since he had aimed it perfectly at me—so, in reality, I just moved out of the way. I missed. In my desperate attempt to recover, I twisted mid-fall, crashed into a barstool, and ended up sprawled on the floor like a human pretzel.

From above, I heard Zenon's clear voice say, “Still getting used to this.”

Tamara had to slip out before the 8 AM bugle call—one of camp’s daily traditions where a kid blares a trumpet into a loudspeaker to wake everyone up. By then, our campers would be rolling out of bed, and any “big kid” sleepovers had to be kept discreet.

Zenon still hadn’t met any of our campers. We had ten energetic 8-year-olds to look after. I went into their room to check on them, making sure they were getting up and making their bunk beds. Alicia, one of the girls, asked if I could help plait her hair.

Within thirty minutes, they were all dressed and ready for the day—because, thankfully, 8-year-olds knew how to tie their own shoes. Right on time, the little camp bus pulled up outside our cabin to take them to breakfast before their scheduled activities.

As counselors, we had to assist with some of the activities. Pretty sure I was stuck with volleyball duty again.

I threw on a sporty outfit—track pants and a plain white T-shirt—and stepped out of my room, only to find Zenon standing beside his laptop.

His broken laptop.

The same one I had crushed with my car.

“I need a favor,” he announced.

His voice was silky smooth, the kind that made it dangerously easy to do whatever he asked. I was sure he was used to that—girls agreeing to anything.

“Sorry, I’m fresh out of favors,” I replied.

Since meeting Zenon, I had tripped and fallen more times than I could count. I wasn’t about to willingly put myself in another situation with him.

“I wasn’t asking.”

“Excuse me?”

Was this boy out of his mind?

“This favor is worth $50.”

A bribe? Absolutely not.

“You can keep your money.”

A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes. “I intend to. You’re the one who owes me a new laptop.”

And just like that, I was reminded of my brilliant decision to promise him every cent to replace it. My eyes drifted to the laptop sitting on the counter, the massive dent in the middle serving as undeniable evidence of my car’s betrayal.

“So, you want me to do you a favor… and you’ll deduct it from what I owe you?”

“You’re a genius,” he said with mock appreciation.

“That your way of saying thank you?”

“That your way of apologizing?”

He flipped the laptop open and pressed the power button. A loud screech filled the air, followed by chaotic flashes of neon green, red, and black streaks across the screen. I cringed.

Smirking, he shut the laptop. “I’ll be waiting in the car.”

Great. This was turning into an expensive mistake.

I hesitated. Were we seriously about to ditch our duties as counselors? We had work today. I needed this job.

Zenon’s voice cut through my internal debate. “You didn’t leave anything in the driveway, did you? I’d hate to run something over. You know, being the responsible one and all.”

UGH!

"I saved a raccoon once!" True story. I had swerved my car at the last second to avoid hitting it.

But my protest fell on completely indifferent ears.

With a sigh, I reluctantly grabbed my purse. “Where exactly are we going, Zenon?”

Once again, silence. No answer.

I supposed this was just another one of those unpredictable moments with Zenon—full of surprises.