Page 22 of The Games We Play

He grabs his jacket and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small set of keys. Walking up the steps of his porch, the metal key zips into the keyhole of his door handle, the sound echoes through the air between us.

He pauses and turns to look at me, still frozen in the same position he left me in. He shoots me a blinding, gorgeous smile, then steps through the threshold ofhishouse, closing the door behind him.

What the fuck.

Still dumbfounded, I glance down at my rooted feet and shake my head.

Seamus:1

Mimi: 0

You win that round, Rambo.

10

NAOMI

17 years old

“Who was that guy you were with yesterday, Meems?” Shane asks before taking a big bite off the corner of his pepperoni pizza he has hovering over his mouth.

I didn’t see Seamus all day today. He must have made friends with the guys in his cabin and found something to do. I hope that’s the case, because I couldn't imagine coming here for my first time as a senior in our last year at camp.

“Who, Seamus?” I reply like a guilty person when they think they did something wrong, and I instantly regret my words. Like I’m defending my choice to hang out with him already, solidifying the fact that I like him.

Shane side-eyes me, chewing the doughy pizza and replies with a chuckle, “Yeah, I guess if that’s who you were hanging out with all day.”

“Oh. Yeah. Seamus. I met him at check in, it’s his first year here. I was just trying to help him out,” I say, brushing it off to not make anything too obvious.

Although, Shane and I have been friends since the first yearhe came to camp, a year after me, so I know he can sense my awkwardness.

Glancing around the room, there are quite a few seniors here tonight—the ones who have come almost every year since we were old enough to.

It’s bittersweet.

Seeing everyone again has been great, but knowing that most of us will probably never talk again after this summer is a bit depressing. We’ll go through our senior year of high school, graduate, and the only ones who will come back here are the ones who will volunteer to lead the younger camp groups.

I don’t know of any of my friends that are doing that, and since I want to backpack through Europe and take a gap year before settling into college life, I know I won’t be back here to see anyone again. My parents don’t love the idea, but they’re supportive of my decision.

The door opens and I steel my spine, anxious to see if it’s Seamus. Instead, it’s Nathan and Wes, the termites from check-in. I huff out an annoyed breath as I sink back into my chair.

“Ladies and gentleman, the party has arrived!” Wes shouts, holding out his arms like a messiah. Someone tosses a garlic knot at him and others whine or shout profanities. A couple of other guys hoot.

I roll my eyes because, ew.

“Oh hey, Mimi. Where’s your new friend?” Nathan asks as he plops down in the one person chair I’m sitting in, forcing me to shift over so he doesn’t squish me.

He wraps his arm around me, pulling me into his side, and I lean as far away from him as possible.

“You’re annoying, Nathan. Get your own chair.” I push at his shoulder, but he doesn’t budge.”

Everyone is talking, eating, and playing some card games when Wes comes up, popping some peanuts into his mouth with one hand while holding an empty glass bottle in the other.

“Come on, Mimi. Let’s play Spin The Bottle, roulette style,” Wes states without question. Nathan stands, grabbing my waist without asking, then pulls me up to my feet.

I slap his hands off my body and shoot him a nasty look as I run my hands down my shirt, straightening it back out.

We’ve all played Spin The Bottle plenty of times in past years, but never ‘roulette style’.

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