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  A handful of campers, including Todd, hoot and holler, but I can barely pay attention to anything with what I hope is Emily’s foot under the table running up and down my leg.

  I cough, dropping my napkin to the ground to sneak a peek. Please don’t be Jenny. Please don’t be Jenny. Nonchalantly I reach down, snatch up my napkin, and peer under the table. I release the breath I’m holding. It’s Emily. Playing footsie.

  I sit upright and shoot her a quick smile, before readjusting in my seat so I can play, too. I slip off my flip-flop and straighten my knee to run my foot up her smooth silky leg, but I’m met with a rough, hairy one instead.

  “Dude. Are you playing footsie with me? I mean, I know I’m irresistible, but I had no idea you wanted to get all up on this, too,” Todd says to me, since I’m the only one on this side of the table close enough to touch him.

  This time, Emily is the one who nearly chokes on her milk. She turns to face away from the table as a sputter of frothy white liquid flies out of her mouth and hits Todd in the face.

  Wiping the milk off with a swipe of the back of his hand, and looking indignant, I can’t contain my laughter and neither can the rest of our table.

  “Shhhh, over there,” Walter says, pointing at us cracking up, causing the whole room to glance our direction. I try to stop laughing, but I can’t and neither can Emily. We continue, silently this time, causing my shoulders to shake and my stomach muscles to hurt.

  Walter clears his throat. “As I was saying, I think this just might be the best set of campers we have ever had at Camp Champ,” his voice grows louder, “and that is why I’m positive this is going to be the best Color War we have ever had!” he shouts, yanking the gold cord to open the red curtains, and revealing a huge sign that breaks down the cabins into team colors.

  The room erupts with cheers as campers start to run around and hug or high five each other, chanting their respective team’s color, each trying to drown out the other’s voice. In big block letters I see my cabin is team red and Emily’s cabin is white.

  “You’re going down, White,” I taunt Emily as her cabin and mine start to trade friendly, but competitive jabs.

  “In your dreams, Slugger,” she teases, picking up a ripe red strawberry from her plate and tossing it in my direction, which I catch easily.

  Keeping my eyes locked with hers, I dip the strawberry into the fluffy white whipped cream piled high on my waffles until it’s completely covered in the sweet topping—my thought process clear—at least to her.

  She steps away from the table, but only after grabbing the spoon from the jar of raspberry jam, and aiming the sticky catapult in my direction. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Are you sure about that?” I say, raising my eyebrows, because at this point, I’m not even sure. Considering how many rules I’ve already broken when it comes to Emily, what’s one more? And probably the least of my offensives. “You know what they say, right?” I ask and then without another thought, or any more time for Emily to reload the dripping jam on her spoon, I gently toss the whipped cream covered berry, hitting her directly in the middle of her forehead. “All is fair in love and war.”

  Her eyes go wide, before her smile goes wider. “Oh, it’s on,” she says right before launching the dollop of jam through the air and nailing me in the face.

  “Food fight!” Todd yells at the top of his lungs. His voice echoes off all four walls of the cafeteria as another spoonful of something wet and sticky, maple syrup I think, splats against my neck and drips down my shirt.

  “Oh, it’s on, all right.” I scoop up a handful of soft butter from a dish in the middle of the table and let it fly.

  Chapter 17

  Emily

  Was that an omelet?

  The fluffy yellow blob drops to the ground in front of my pancake syrup covered feet, and I’m careful not to step on it as I toss a fistful of fruit cocktail and cool whip across the table, hitting Tyler on the side of his face, and splattering the red headed kid standing next to him.

  “Oops, my bad.” I grin as he scoops the whipped cream off his cheek. It’s a pointless gesture since we’re both covered in every type of breakfast substance possible. What’s a little whip cream at this point?

  Tyler moves towards me, holding high in the air a container of runny yogurt, as something unidentifiable flies past my head. I duck, just in time to catch Walter on the stage getting splattered in what looks to be orange juice. He throws his hands in the air and demands the food fight stops immediately. Well…I think that’s what he’s saying. I can’t quite hear him over the sound of my own laughter as Tyler continues stalking towards me with the tub tilted and ready to pour.

  I stumble back, as pancakes, turkey sausages, and scrambled eggs fly around us, but despite all the craziness, he’s all I can focus on. The way his muscles flex each time he moves, the crinkle he gets around his eyes when he smiles, and the way his voice sounds when he laughs, deep and smooth and carefree.

  “I thought since the red has just about washed out of the ends of your hair, you might need a quick touchup. How’s white sound?” Tyler takes another step forward, wearing a self-assured smile and a little bit of jam. “You are team white after all,” he says, closing the distance between us. “Where’s your spirit?”

  I glance at the table next to me and grab the first red thing I can find. An entire carafe of strawberry syrup. That’ll work.

  I hold it up so he can see we’re both armed and ready. “Team red, right?” I arch my eyebrow, daring him to try me. “I’ve got your spirit right here, Slugger. Come and get it.”

  His eyes dart around the room, I assume to see if we’re being watched, before he turns back to me and licks his lips. “You’ve definitely got something I want.”

  The intensity in his voice and the set of his jaw makes my stomach flutter, reminding me of the way his strong hands and soft lips felt on my skin last night, and how badly I want to feel them again, everywhere.

  “Mr. Ford. Ms. Evers. My office. Now.”

  …

  Sticky, and a little scared, I stand on the linoleum floor, trying not to drip on anything in Walter’s office as we wait to find out why we’re even here. But if his tone is any indication, it’s big.

  Shit. He doesn’t know about last night? Does he?

  My worry surprises me as I glance at Tyler, who looks even more freaked out than I feel. Sometime between the swim test and swimming in pancake syrup I’ve forgotten just how badly I want to get outta this place, and even more surprising, I’ve forgotten, even if temporarily, about the problems waiting for me at home.

  Walter walks into the office toweling off his hands, his shirt still covered in splatters of grape jelly, orange juice, and syrup. “Do you two know why you are here?” he asks, his voice clipped.

  By the look on his face, I can guess. He knows.

  I take a step forward, ready to take the blame, since I don’t want Tyler getting into trouble, especially because of me.

  “It’s my fault,” I say, shifting my weight, my flip flops making a sticky suction cup like sound against the floor. “I… I was the one who started it. Tyler just reacted, like any guy would have.”

  Walter clears his throat before taking a seat at his desk. “Emily, while I applaud your honesty, I saw it with my own two eyes, and you are both to blame for what happened.”

  My eyes go wide. He…he saw us? How? And how much? My face burns with embarrassment as I shoot Tyler a look, finding his is the complete opposite of mine. Stark white.

  “Sir—”

  Walter shakes his head, silencing me. “No, Emily, Tyler is a head counselor and his behavior should reflect the responsibility he has been given. That being said, as a junior counselor, you too, are expected to be an example to the younger campers.” Walter pulls out a file from his desk and jots down some notes before closing it, entwining his fingers, and resting them on top. “You leave me no choice here.”

  Tyler steps to the edge of Walter�
��s desk, his shoulders up around his ears with tension. “Mr. Robbins, please, let me explain.”

  “I’m sorry, but you’ll both have to miss the first day of color wars to clean up the mess you’ve made, and unfortunately, I will have to write you both up with an infraction.” Walter lowers his voice, sounding more sympathetic than angry now. “Please, don’t make me have to write you up again. You two know the rules. Three times and you’re out.”

  The mess? We got into trouble for the food fight?

  I hold my smile back, despite how relieved I am. He didn’t catch us making out last night, and I just got my first strike.

  I’m not sure this day could get any better.

  As we step out of Walter’s office and head down the stairs to the cafeteria, I finally let my smile out. My hair might be crunchy to the touch and smell like an Ihop, but for now, I could care less.

  “Can you believe that? I thought for sure he’d caught us for—you know—last night.” I turn to face Tyler with an extra bounce in my step, but I stop moving altogether when I see his face. “Wait. Are you okay?”

  Tyler tries to drag his hand through his hair, but it too has dried and hardened from the food fight. With his nostrils flaring and the muscles in his jaw tight he storms past me and into the cafeteria.

  He’s mad?

  I move quickly after him, confused why he’s not as relieved as I am. So what? It’s just the first day of color war we have to miss. Who really cares about boat races, anyway?

  “Tyler,” I reach out and touch his arm just above his elbow, “what’s wrong?”

  Tyler yanks his arm out of my hand and steps away. “Let’s just clean up this mess so we can go, all right?”

  “No. I’m not doing anything until you tell me what’s going on. Did I do something wrong?” I ask, replaying the last thirty minutes in my mind, trying to figure out why the sudden change.

  Ignoring my question, Tyler makes his way to the garbage cans, picking up large chunks of food as he goes.

  “I’m serious.” I cross my arms, unmoving.

  “Quit playing around. Let’s just get this mess cleaned up and go.” Tyler tosses a handful of garbage in the trash with force. “The last thing I need is getting into anymore trouble with you.”

  And there it is. Mr. Goodie-two-shoes—stickler for the rules—is upset he got in trouble for a food fight.

  I let out a small laugh, which earns me a stern look from across the room. “We started a food fight and got a slap on the wrist; it’s not the end of the world.” I move to the set of windows behind me and pull down the blinds, causing the rays of sunlight beaming through to disappear. I continue around the room shutting each blind to block out both the light and the prying eyes.

  Slowly, Tyler straightens from being hunched over and scooping up trash, and watches me as I close the last set of blinds, the only light filling the room is the soft beams peeking through the closed slates.

  “Emily.” Tyler cautions as I move towards him until we’re standing so close I can feel the rush of air he blows out, a mixture of frustration and desire washing over me. “We can’t do this.”

  Keeping my eyes fixed on him, I reach up and run my hand across the stubble on his jaw, my hips pressing against his. He lets out a soft groan. His want is as palpable as mine as he grips the sides of my tank top and exposes a strip of skin on my back that sends shivers up my spine.

  “What are you so worried about?” I whisper, pressing our foreheads against one another and drawing his lips closer to mine.

  “With you? Everything.”

  Chapter 18

  Tyler

  In the quiet of the empty room, with Emily standing so close I can feel heat radiating off of her, it’s hard to remember why this is such a terrible idea.

  “You. That’s what worries me.” I offer the truth so quietly, I’m not sure she can hear me above the sound of my hand slowly running up the length of her arm.

  Lifting up onto her tiptoes, she wraps her arms around my neck and puts just enough distance between us I can see her eyes searching my face in earnest.

  “Because of the fraternization rule? Or is it my dad? Because it can’t be my age. I mean…it’s not my age is it?” she asks. “We’re barely two years apart.” Her eyes are large and as open as her questions. She really wants to know what my hesitation is—no games.

  I shake my head, unsure how to answer.

  I came to Camp Champ with a plan to job shadow Doc, make some extra cash, and figure out what I want to do with my future—my plan was not to fall for some girl who makes me want to screw my plans, break the rules, and just have fun.

  “I guess it’s all of it,” I admit, looking into her light brown eyes. I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my entwined fingers against the small of her back. “I had a plan for this summer…and…and I guess I didn’t expect you.”

  “The truth is…I didn’t expect you either.” Emily bites her lip. “And trust me, you’re not the only one whose summer plan is getting knocked right outta the park these days. So, I get it.”

  I take a deep breath, unsure what she’s talking about, but the brief flicker of worry that flashes in her eyes and the sudden tension in her neck, makes me wonder what plans she’s putting on the line, too.

  “You know we have to keep this quiet, right?” I say, swallowing hard, as I try to shove away the worry of Coach, the majors, med school, and the inevitable trouble I’ll be in if we get caught—because maybe letting loose will do me some good. It led me to Emily after all.

  A smile breaks out on her face as I pull her tighter against my body. “Does that mean—”

  “That I give in?” I laugh.

  “You make it sound like it’s against your will.” She pouts. “You know…you don’t have to do me any favors, since I’m pretty sure Todd would be happy to step up to the plate if you’re not game.” She arches an eyebrow in teasing defiance.

  The sudden jolt of jealousy I felt at the campfire, and then again listening to Todd lie about hooking up with Emily surges through me, making me feel both protective and possessive.

  “Oh, I’m more than game,” I whisper, lowering my lips to hers. “Now come here, before I change my mind.” I tease back, knowing there’s no turning back now—maybe there never was.

  I lean down, ready to take Emily’s bottom lip between my teeth, the way I did last night, when Todd’s booming voice ricochets against the glass windows from the outside. We tear apart right before the front doors of the cafeteria fly open.

  “This is total bull.” Todd stomps in.

  By the time I grab a chair, that appears to be covered with gravy, Emily has somehow made it almost completely across the room from me and is wringing out soapy water from a mop, acting like we weren’t almost caught thirty seconds into our newly minted…relationship. If that’s what this is.

  Jenny walks in right behind Todd. “Just be glad you got a warning and didn’t get written up.”

  “All I did was announce what was already happening—it’s not my fault everyone thought it was an invitation to join in. I don’t get why I have to help clean up, but whatever.”

  “I know, it’s lame.” Jenny touches Todd’s bulky arm, letting her hand linger. “You totally didn’t do anything, but the sooner we all get done, the sooner we can head down to the lake for the boat races.”

  Todd shrugs as Jenny flips on the fluorescent lights hanging overhead. She smiles when she sees me. “Reinforcements have arrived.”

  “Oh, hey, guys. You got in trouble, too?” I set the gross gravy chair back down; knocking lumpy globs to the ground with a splat. “I wonder who ratted us all out?”

  “Probably Team Orange. Trying to sabotage the two biggest threats on Team Red I bet.” Todd starts yanking the blinds open, letting even more light flood the room, the full destruction from the food fight in full view. “Let’s knock this room out, and then take them down. What’d say?” Todd asks, before punching a half full carton of milk to
the ground in a show of force—which I’m sure is for the benefit of Emily, by the way he puffs his chest and flexes his biceps.

  It takes effort to not look at Emily and laugh, despite desperately wanting to see her reaction, but I manage to keep my attention on the job at hand until Jenny grabs a trashcan next to the front door and drags it towards me.

  “Hey,” she says, sidling up next to me.

  “Since you got in trouble too, maybe Team Red isn’t Team Orange’s only target,” I joke, unsure why she’s here. I didn’t see her during the food fight, and she looks relatively clean compared to the rest of us.

  “I just came to help out.” She smiles bending down, and letting her tank top fall open as she picks up scraps of food. “Thought you might like some company.”

  “Thanks, Jenny,” Emily says, continuing to mop the floor from across the room, but obviously listening in. “We definitely needed the help since I’m pretty sure—if left all by ourselves—Tyler and I could not have gotten much done.” The mop bucket sloshes, as a knowing grin plays on Emily’s lips.

  She’s got that right.

  I choke back a laugh. “Emily’s right, we might have been here all day if it weren’t for you two.”

  “Covered in whip cream, no less,” Emily chimes in, reminding me of exactly what Jenny and Todd just interrupted, a blush rushing to her cheeks.

  Damn.

  “Yeah. Thanks, you guys.” I try to keep the sarcasm at bay. “Thanks a lot.”

  Chapter 19

  Emily

  Spending the entire morning mopping up the disgusting aftermath of a food fight is not exactly what I would call a good time. Kissing Tyler some more—now that’s a different story. Too bad we were interrupted by Captain-brainless-bod and his trusty sidekick, Jenny-from-the-cockblock. Talk about bad timing.