Page 27 of Camp Help Falling

Even though I know I shouldn’t, I reach out and touch her shoulder, rubbing my thumb up and down once before dropping my hand to my side. It’s an innocent enough touch, but one that makes me want to ignore every speed limit sign on our way down the mountain.

Sadie grins at me and spins her car keys around a finger. “I figured since you drove last week, I’ll do the honors today.”

If this were a normal date—if Sadie were any other girl—I’d say no, insisting that I be the gentleman and drive. But this isn’t a normal date. For the sake of the camp’s rules, we’re not supposed to be looking like we’re going on a date. As far as everyone knows, we’re just two people catching a ride into town together, like the car full of youth staff who left a half hour ago to clean the sink at Angie’s, whatever that means.

And Sadie isn’t just any girl. She’s not someone to pass the time with before moving on to the next woman. She’s the kind that makes you want to bend the rules for, just to steal a few extra moments with.

Plus, she’s driven that mountain road more than I ever will, so we’ll probably be better off if she drives anyway.

I sweep my hand in front of me. “Lead the way.”

Sadie unlocks her car with her fob and pushes off the hood, heading to the driver’s side. Even though every fiber of my being is telling me to open her door, I force myself to walk around to the other side of the car and get in.

The gravel crunching beneath the tires is the loudest sound in the car as we leave the parking lot and follow the dirt road back toward civilization. Sadie breathes an audible sigh of relief when she turns onto the maintained asphalt road, the signal that we’ve made it off camp property. That sigh is the key, unlocking everything I’ve been holding back since last night.

I reach for her at the same time she extends her hand to me, and our fingers tangle together over the middle console of her car. I pull her arm toward me, resting our interlocked hands on my knee. Her quiet grin widens into a carefree smile that makes the corners of her eyes crinkle.

“We made it,” she breathes, flicking a glance at me before focusing back on the road. My own broad smile stretches the limits of my facial muscles, and the warmth of her hand in mine—the rightness of it—makes my heart feel like it’s about to burst out of my chest.

It’s barely been two weeks since I met her. The logical part of my brain wants to revolt, but that part of me—the part that analyzes and designs and architects—has gone quiet as I’ve embraced life at camp. It shuts its mouth as that newfound part of me insists that this is right. That Sadie and I just fit.

“I have been waiting all morning for this,” I say, bringing our interlocked hands to my mouth and pressing my lips to the back of her hand. “Do you know how torturous it’s been, not to touch you like I want to?”

Sadie’s cheeks go pink, and it’s my new favorite color on her.

“Permission granted,” she says, a touch quieter than a moment ago, like my confession made her shy—or as shy as an extrovert like Sadie can be.

“What?”

“Permission granted for you to touch me. All day, for however long we’ll be away from camp.”

The way Sadie grips my hand—tightly like she’s afraid that if she lets go, she’ll never get the chance to hold it again—gives me the sense that Sadie has been agonizing over this as much as I have this last week and that kiss yesterday was the crack in the dam, a weakness revealed by too much pressure.

A whole day of throwing purple to the wind sounds like my kind of day. But since hauling her across the console to kiss her is a stupid move while she’s driving, I keep my hands mostly to myself—my hand locked with hers the only exception—and wait patiently for us to arrive in Garden City.

Thanks to my mad dash to Camp Brower two weeks ago and my lack of regular cellular data, I have no idea what to expect when we pull into a parking lot in Garden City. On my way out to camp, it was just another checkpoint, a name said in that robotic GPS assistant voice. But now that I’m seeing it in the daylight on a Saturday, it’s more than just the town before the turn off to Camp Brower.

The city is longer than it is wide, nestled between the mountains and the shore of Bear Lake. Small shops and drive-in restaurants line one side of the main street while small residential houses line the other. Rental cabins dot the foothills to the west, and the sparkling, blue-green lake stretches away to the east.

Trucks pulling trailers topped with boats meander down the streets, pulling into marinas along the shore. Sadie grabs my hand and we cross the busy road, weaving down side streets until we find a dirt trail that leads from the paved road down to the sandy beach.

We spend the morning on the shoreline, sand slipping between our toes while we walk hand-in-hand, our shoes dangling from our fingers. Out here, it’s just me and Sadie. No prying eyes, no pointing fingers. No Purple Rule.

No wondering if I’m going to get in some sort of ambiguous trouble because I’m caught holding hands with the girl I like.

More than like, if I’m honest with myself. I wasn’t looking for another relationship so soon after my last one disappeared faster than I could blink. And maybe it’s a little early to call what Sadie and I have a relationship. But thanks to that no-touching rule, I’ve spent my time at camp—when we can find time to be together—getting to know Sadie in a different way than I’ve done with previous girlfriends. There’s no pomp and circumstance of planning dates or getting dressed to impress each other. At camp, we’re both stripped down to the barest versions of ourselves.

It’s like I’ve been allowed to see directly into her soul.

I spend the entire morning with a hand on her at all times—her hand, her back, her shoulder—like I’m trying to make up for all the time I didn’t get to touch her this week. And Sadie does the same, reaching back for me if we get separated, or pressing close to me as we walk along the beach. We meander, no plan or destination in mind. Today, my only wish is to be close to Sadie. Holding her hand, kissing her lips, wrapping my arm around her shoulders, even though I have to slouch to meet her height. Anything and everything to stock up these little touches to savor for the coming week.

After lunch, we grab raspberry shakes at one of the many places around the city claiming theirs is the best. It must be some signature thing around here because Sadie pulls me towards a busy drive-in, emphatically stating that these are the best ones.

As we sit outside, perched at a table underneath a red and white striped umbrella, Sadie and I dig into our milkshakes, which are more the consistency of soft serve ice cream than something you could drink through a straw.

“We’ll have to come back in August when they use fresh raspberries.” Sadie smiles around her spoon before dragging it out of her mouth, leaving the raspberry ice cream behind. Her cheeks are pink from the heat and her hair is a little messy from the wind off the lake. And every bit of her is gorgeous. Irresistible. “That’s when they’re the best of the best.”

The image of the two of us under this umbrella, golden-skinned from the full summer spent in the sun at Camp Brower, jumps to my mind so quickly, so vividly, it's like recalling a memory. But that bright and hopeful wish dims as reality creeps in. I hadn’t planned on staying more than a couple weeks at camp. I have an apartment to get back to. A job hunt that I’ve been neglecting.

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