Page 22 of Nerdplay
“He’s a lawyer,” Bradley reminds him. “The only thing he’ll see value in is the land we’re standing on.”
“Fine,” Stefan relents, “but whatever we do, it has to be lighthearted. Nothing mean-spirited. If we wouldn’t laugh if someone did it to us, then we shouldn’t do it to him.”
“That seems fair,” Ben says.
I look around at the group and realize there isn’t a cruel bone in any of their bodies, although the jury’s out on Olivia.
“So, we’re all in agreement on Operation Revenge of the Nerds?” I ask. I relax when every hand goes up. This is why I love camp. For two weeks of the year, I get to feel safe and secure, like nothing can hurt me. It’s reassuring to have that feeling back again.
* * *
I knock on the door to the interloper’s cabin. As annoying as it is, I recognize the need to observe him closely and track his movements. If he’s truly up to something, I’d like to be able to catch him in the act.
“Be right there,” Charlie calls. The door opens and the first thing I see is a bare chest. A very nice, firm bare chest.
“I came by to see how you’re settling in and to give you the full activities list so you can plan your schedule.” I hand him a sheet of paper, making sure to avoid ogling his chest, which results in me awkwardly making direct eye contact instead. Honestly, the chest would’ve been better.
“Um, thanks.” He glances at the sheet. “Wow. So many activities.”
“See anything that speaks to you? If not, the cafeteria is open if you’re more interested in a nipple right now.” It takes a beat for me to process what I said, and I quickly try to course correct. “A nibble. A bite to eat.”
“I’m always hungry,” his full lips reply, and my stomach betrays me by dipping like I’m on the downslope of a roller coaster.
I somehow manage to maintain my composure. “We serve three meals a day, but the cafeteria is always open for snacks. We try to keep food contained to one building to avoid any wildlife issues, which means no food in your cabin. Did you have a chance to read through the rules and regulations?”
“First thing I did when I got here.” He flashes a charming smile. “Lawyer habit.”
“If you have any questions, you can text me. My number is at the top of the paper, although it’s usually better to track me down.”
“Because of the unreliable phone service,” he says.
“You’re a quick learner.”
He studies the schedule. “I can’t tell you what half these things are.”
“Ring toss starts in five minutes. You game?”
He limbers up his wrist, which draws my attention to the sinewy muscles of his arm. “If you don’t mind losing.”
I snort-laugh. “Because you’re a professional ring toss player on the side?”
“Because I was a baseball player. And my brother’s a surgeon and my sister’s a professional golfer.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“We Thorpes have excellent hand-eye coordination. It’s encoded in our DNA.”
“Consider me warned.” I’ve played ring toss every summer for the past thirty years. Mr. Genetic Lottery has nothing on me.
“I’ll grab a snack from the cafeteria and meet you … where?”
“Near the area marked Grassy Knoll. There’s a map in your welcome packet that you might want to reference.”
He dips to the right and plucks another sheet of paper from his bed. “You mean this one?” He moves closer to me, holding the map. “Can you show me? I don’t see it.” His forearm skims mine, and it feels like a thousand butterflies break free from the prison that is my stomach.
I jerk my arm away and point to the spot on the map. “There.” The word comes out garbled, but Charlie doesn’t seem to notice.
“Thanks, I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
