20.2
Nathaniel
It’s been almost twenty-four hours since what happened between Adriano and Georgina and I. Adriano and I are good. We spent a few hours in the gym one-upping each other and lifting weights and not talking about jack shit.
But it’s weird with Georgina. She’s barely been around all day, off hiking in the morning with the campers, and then breezing through the house on her way to some kind of trust exercise in the afternoon that she pointedly did not ask us to join in on.
Now, the campers are gathered around a roaring fire on the last night of the camp roasting hot dogs and marshmallows. Adriano and I are out here hanging out with the kids trying to make up for being dickheads the other day and getting into a near-fight in front of them. We even spent the last hour before the hot dog roast throwing footballs and teaching them plays.
Georgina has definitely been avoiding us. She’s hardly made eye contact, and she’s either really fucking busy with the camp or she’s pretending to be so she doesn’t have to talk to us. I don’t know what the hell that means. Either she’s totally freaked out by what happened or else she thinks it’s no big deal. Regardless, she can’t just avoid talking to us forever, at least I hope not – especially because I want what happened to continue happening.
“Now it’s going to be really awkward having her as a neighbor,” Adriano says. “I told you it would be weird.”
“You said no such thing,” I correct. “In fact, I’m the one who told you not to shit where you eat.”
“That was good advice.”
Georgina has been making the rounds, talking to all of the campers and counselors, and she chooses that exact time to greet Louis and Spencer, who are standing near us elbowing each other and cracking jokes about wieners.
“Did you guys get hot dogs yet?” she asks them.
Spencer nods. “We’re about to go get wieners.” He heavily emphasizes the word wieners before snickering.
Beside me, Adriano chuckles under his breath. “Wieners,” he repeats.
I give him a look.
“I want a big fat wiener,” Louis says, snorting. “Do you want a big fat wiener, Spencer?”
“Go get hot dogs from the counselors over there,” Georgina says sternly, obviously trying to change the subject. “And don’t run with the roasting sticks.”
“Yeah,” Spencer says, elbowing Louis. “Walk to get your wiener.”
“Can I get a stick to roast two wieners at the same time?” Louis asks. “I’m starving. I want two.”
I think I hear Adriano snort.
Georgina’s face pales.
“Don’t be greedy,” Spencer says. “The counselors said one at a time, not two. Only greedy people want two.”
I cut him off. “Go get your hot dogs.”
There’s an awkward moment of silence between the three of us, before Adriano breaks it. “Yeah. So, speaking of two wieners…”
Fucking hell.
Georgina’s eyes get big and she clears her throat. “No, no, no,” she says, shaking her head before she mumbles something and grabs the arm of a counselor passing by, pretending she needs to talk to the counselor but it’s obvious as hell that she’s just trying to get away from us as fast as she can.
I glare at Adriano. “Fuck, Adriano. Really? That's what you lead with? ‘Speaking of two wieners?’”
“What? They were laughing about two wieners. Come on. You weren’t thinking the same thing?”
"That's besides the point," I hiss. "She's already uncomfortable, obviously. Way to make it even more uncomfortable."
"You're assuming she's uncomfortable. Maybe she just wants to hit it and quit it."
"Do you want to hit it and quit it?"
Adriano looks sheepish. "No."
"Well, then we need to talk to her. And we need to make it less awkward. Got any bright ideas?"
"Flowers," Adriano suggests. "Chicks love flowers."
"Great idea," I tell him sarcastically. "Why don't you go run out and get flowers at seven o'clock at night? Maybe the gas station down the road has some classy bouquets."
"Yeah, well, maybe you should knit her a scarf."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, I think you do."
I look at him through narrowed eyes, my fists clenched at my side. "Who told you?"
"You left your knitting needles out one day."
"One day when?" I ask, increasingly pissed off. "Did you go through my shit?"
"One day like six months ago," Adriano admits. "At your old place."
"You've been sitting on that for six months?"
"I know. It was a real gold nugget of information. I was waiting for a good time to drop it."
"Your sense of timing is fantastic."
"What can I say? I'm Adriano Jackson."
"Go find some flowers," I tell him. "And take your fucking time. Take all damn night, actually."
