I think I’d like it way too fucking much.
Chapter Eleven
“Hey, Colton.” I slip off my readers and gesture at the seat, which at this point is totally unnecessary because, unlike that first day in my office, he must feel more comfortable coming in and plopping down in it. Ironic, because it seems like whereas Colton seems to be opening up more two weeks later, the opposite appears to be happening with his father and I. Evan appears to be doing everything in his power to avoid me at all costs.
He went out and bought a new mattress for his bunk the very next day, instead of waiting for me to order one. I went downstairs, after hearing the buzzer on my washer going off, to find Evan asleep upright in my reading chair—Snarf contentedly curled on his lap, snoozing as well. I did invite him up to my bed, and, surprisingly, he agreed. But then, when he climbed in, it was as if the Great Wall of Pillows he put between our groins was not enough.
He made me feel as if somehow my being gay was a communicable disease or something. It hurt, honestly. I was just trying to be kind andgive him a place to sleep, not grope the guy, but I guess the way I had scared him off earlier in the evening lingered up to bed.
Since then, he’s been keeping his nose to the ground, working on things around the camp during the day. Then, in the evenings, he’s scarce. The only reason I know he comes and goes is because his Harley is as loud as it is sexy.
It shouldn’t irk me the way it does.
I shouldn’t have even tried dipping my toes into the water there, forcing myself on him like that, at the first sign of hope that the attraction wasn’t one-sided. I should just stop assuming I know anything about him at all, because it’s confusing the heck out of me. Evan the enigma, I guess.
Here’s what I do know though, he’s just a nice guy,andhe’s an employee here. He’s done so much, much more than I even knew I needed. He spent three days raking the hiking trail to the stream. He repainted the blazes on the trees. The trail had become so derelict, we hadn’t used it the last couple of years, but now it’s something I feel comfortable we could start bringing the campers out on again.
I noticed he even raked up the tent site and fire pit that was out there and that no one’s used in ages. I love to camp, but I can never bring myself to leave camp property, to trust that others have things handled for a night, to go anymore. This might be a perfect solution, one I’d never even considered.
Not that I’m sure I’d want to now, thinking back to the night Evan and I were out there. The night he saw me in my lace panties. The night I almost said ‘screw it’ and kissed him, after errantly thinking Evan could possibly be attracted to men. The night that’s been playing on repeat over the last two weeks, especially after seeing he has the lyrics of my favorite song tattooed on his chest—one of his favoritestoo, apparently.
“You don’t look so hot. You alright, Mr. G?” Colton’s voice draws me out of my reverie.
Then I feel a flush creep up my cheeks. I almost kissed this boy’s father. Talk about unethical behavior. Engaging romantically with a client’s parent or guardian is wildly disparaged as it presents a conflict of interest. I’d have to terminate mine and Colton’s treatment plan, and, at this point in the game, whereas we’ve just gotten started, that could be detrimental to his progress.
Especially since I found out that Colton was planning on running away from home. Thankfully, now it appears he’s starting to reconsider. I feel like Colton and I are building something solid, and he’s started making goals that align with him staying.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I brush him off. “Too much time out in the sun, I think.”
“Dude, so paddle boarding was so much fun this morning. I didn’t think I could stand up that long. I wonder if I could learn how to surf. We get some decent waves at home.”
I break out in a broad smile. I may have assumed wrong when I thought Colton would be as tight-lipped as his father. That’s the whole point of this camp though, to get kids to open up through good, non-technology-laden time in nature.
“I think that you could. I think you can do more than you give yourself credit for. You’re very talented, you know,” I tell him. “Have you been doing any more drawing?”
“Oh! Yeah, check it out.” He yanks out his sketchbook and plops it on the desk in front of me.
In our first real session, I suggested that Colton exercise his artistic talents elsewhere. He discovered the pastels we have in the craft hall, and has been sketching like crazy at night. I’ve set him up to work with Mom, who comes out here several times a season to help withthe art sessions with the campers. She even features the campers’ art, in a special showing for parents who can make it, at the local art gallery she owns.
They end up being huge successes every year. For some of these kids, nearly two months away from home is a long time, so getting to see their loved ones come and gush over their lopsided pottery or open-to-artistic-interpretation paintings gets them feeling less homesick. Mom gets some traffic in the door too. Win-win.
He flips the pages to his most recent sketch, and I grin.
I’ve watched enough sunsets over the water here to know that he’s captured the way the sunlight is mirrored over the water is true to life. It’s highly photo-realistic. But what’s more stunning is the work he’s done capturing his boyfriend's expression as Nikolas gazes out over the water.
That’sthe big secret he didn’t want to get out at camp. Colton’s pansexual and in a relationship with his best friend.
That second session Colton and I had, I discovered I was very wrong, thinking that he and Morgan were in a budding relationship. Turns out, she was the one who encouraged him to come out to me, knowing I am a safe space. They’ve become really close, Colton and Morgan.
“Wow,” I say, my eyes flitting over the page. “Colton, jeeze. I’m speechless. This is great.”
He grins, flipping his wild, black locks out of his eyes. “You’re not just saying that?”
“Please,” I scoff. “Half the time, I struggle with drawing the stick figure in hangman. This—wow. I thought the one you drew of Morgs was good, but this is even better. Do you think you’d want to putit in the art show?”
Now he bites at his lip ring. “I’m not sure. I don’t really want Dad reading too much into it.”
I nod. “Understandable. You’re worried about what he might think if he finds out you and Nikolas are more than just friends.”
