Page 82 of Until Next Summer

“That’s right,” Dot says, and she and Zac high-five. Jessie buries her face in her hands.

“What are we exploring?”

It’s Cooper, and he’s carrying over another bottle of wine. At the sight of him, Jessie groans and slumps onto the table, her entire face hidden. “If Mr. Billy comes out next, I’m going to pass away. RIP me.”

“We’re talking pubes,” Zac tells Cooper cheerfully.

Cooper’s eyes widen as he looks at me.

I shrug. “Yeah. Jessie wanted to know what the styles are nowadays.”

“And if men have preferences,” Zoey adds.

Jessie, head still in her hands, lets out another groan. “Oh my gooooood.”

“You want my honest opinion?” Cooper asks, squeezing in beside me.

“No. No, I do not,” Jessie mumbles, her voice muffled, but I nod at Cooper to continue.

“You should do whatyouprefer,” Cooper says. “Whatever makes you feel most confident. Nothing sexier than confidence.”

He glances toward me, and I squeeze my thighs together and look away.

“I’d feel most confident if we never spoke of this again,” Jessie says, lifting her head, her cheeks blazing red.

“Honestly?” I say, smiling. “I think you should just put it in two braids, so the carpet matches the drapes.”

Dot’s holding in a grin as she adds, “Or a mullet—business in the front, party in the back.”

“All right, we’re done here,” Jessie says, swinging her leg around the picnic bench. “Back to work, everyone. That’s a direct order.”

As she walks away, I call after her, “Good luck with your next visitor from St. Petersburg!”

Without turning, Jessie flips me the bird.

Zac whispers to his wife, “We’re getting a camper from Russia?”

—

The next morning, instead of my normal camp uniform, I put on a pair of running shorts and my Blue Team T-shirt, then head to the flagpole for the official opening ceremony of Color Wars.

“You’re just in time,” Jessie says, sounding as excited as I feel. Luckily, she didn’t rescind her offer to be partners for the games today after the whole pubic council.

“Ready?” Zac says, coming up beside us. He and Zoey are both on the Orange Team.

Jessie nods, and he hits play on his phone, sending an Olympic fanfare blasting from his Bluetooth speaker. I’m not sure what’s going on, but audible gasps and whistles rise from the crowd. I stand on my tiptoes, trying to figure out what the fuss is about.

And that’s when I see him.

Cooper, dressed in a toga tie-dyed with all four team colors—red, orange, green, and blue—and a crown of leavesaround his head. He’s holding one of the torches Jessie asked me to make for the opening ceremony. She forgot to mention my fling would be the one carrying it. Or that his toga would showthatmuch leg. I’ve never found calves particularly sexy before, but the way Cooper’s flex when he runs is nothing short of hot.

When he reaches the flagpole, leaving several women and a few men looking lustily after him, he hands Jessie the papier-mâché torch. She holds it high above her head and shouts, “May the best Color win!”

—

The Blue Team wins our first team event (kickball) and crushes it in the individual competitions, adding ten points for winning the egg and canoe races and five points for coming in second for the balloon race and apple bobbing.

My personal best activity is flip cup, a new addition to these adult games. I haven’t played since college, but apparently, I’ve still got it. That win put us in the lead by twenty points with two events left.

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