Life on the Level: On the Verge - Book Three

  “You taste delicious,” he whispers.

  I smile, already feeling sleep blanket me. I reach out and rub his hardness. “Your turn. You don’t have any condoms in these boxers do you?”

  He shakes his head. “Not tonight.”

  “Why?” It comes out more like a whine.

  He brushes my hair back. “Tonight is about you.”

  He pulls me against his chest, and I go willingly. I bury my face against him. I memorize the way his heart beats under my fingertips. I tap them out like a Morse code meant just for me.

  “How long will you stay?” I ask. The clock says it’s three a.m.

  “For as long as I can.” He kisses my forehead. I can’t remember the last time I felt this warm and safe with someone. I can’t remember wanting someone the way I want Hutch. Even this close to him, I feel like I’m too far away. I wrap my arm around him and throw my leg over his side. I feel his chuckle vibrate through my skin.

  “Forever,” I say.

  “Forever.”

  I tilt my face up and kiss him luxuriously, lazily. I could kiss him until our lips are dry and raw and numb, and even then I’d want to keep going.

  At some point I fall asleep. I wake up alone. My heart sinks with disappointment. Is this what he felt like when I ran out on him? I look around the small room, but there really isn’t anywhere for him to have gone other than back to his own room.

  The only thing that’s different than when I left him is that Hutch has left me a note.

  “I’m going to dream of tasting you.” I pull the cover over my head, and dream of him, too.

  Chapter 24

  Hutch doesn’t come back the next night. He goes somewhere with Simmons to get the rest of our camping supplies, and I’m out cold before they come back. But it’s okay, because our party-planning sessions are filled with plenty of making out. We’re too nervous to actually try to have sex, considering how often people knock on his door. It’s easier to pull our lips apart than our other appendages.

  It makes me all the more anxious to go on the camping trip. Throughout the day, I busy myself creating different scenarios for us to get together. All together we have a group of sixteen, plus two counselors and Jillian. Of the patients, the only people I know are Randy, Julie, Jermania, and Pete.

  Everyone is in charge of their own tent, sleeping bag, and food supply. It’s supposed to teach us about independence, and self-reliance. I’ve never pitched a tent, and I’ve never slept in a sleeping bag before. Though the prospect of trying to fit inside one with Hutch is pretty spectacular.

  The morning of the trip, we pile into the van at the ass crack of dawn and drive up to Flathead Lake.

  Simmons tells Jillian about the Flathead Lake monster, which is supposed to be a cousin of sorts to the Loch Ness monster.

  “Can I stick my head out the sun roof?” I ask.

  “For a minute,” Simmons tells me. He’s by far the most chill of all the counselors.

  I wonder how Hutch is faring in the other van. We decided to separate from each other to keep up the ruse that there’s nothing between us, though other than Vilma there haven’t been anymore hints, and she’s not even here. Still, I feel extra guilty and want to be more cautious. I pull back the sunroof and stand on the seat so that half of my torso is out. I raise my hands in the air like I’m on a rollercoaster. I shout into the massive Montana sky, the trees, and the snowcapped mountains.

  The van behind us honks. I turn around for a second to see Hutch’s panicked expression. Jillian tugs at my pant legs, and I come back inside.

  “It’s amazing. It’s not even cold yet.”

  “Camping is even better when it’s warm out,” Jillian says. “Though we don’t go camping much in Spain.”

  “I think I’d like it better there, eating tapas and drinking wine,” Simmons tells her.

  Jermania and I look at each other. She smirks, and I know she’s thinking the same thing. Simmons is trying to flirt.

  The ride is extra long, since one of the grouchy older campers calls out for music, and we end up listening to old-man country songs for the remaining hour. When we get to Flathead Lake and park in the campground, I’m stunned at how beautiful it is out here. There aren’t many tourists, but there are still local campers who are taking advantage of the unseasonable warmth.

  The second van, led by Hutch, arrives five minutes after we do. Hutch gives me a look that tells me he does not approve of my sunroof antics, but I simply smile and shoulder the weight of my gear.

  “I’ll go rent the kayaks,” Simmons says.

  “Kayaks? This isn’t the camping area?”

  “It’s a camping area,” Hutch tells me. “We kayak to one of the smaller islands inside the lake. They look tiny from far away, but they’re pretty big.”

  “We get a whole island all to ourselves?”

  He smiles. He looks devilishly rugged in his faded jeans and thick boots. He’s got a lightweight sweater with all kinds of pockets. I notice the knife strapped to his hip.

  “Planning on cutting down some trees?” I point to the weapon.

  “That’s just in case.”

  “Is anyone else packing?”

  “Simmons has his riffle. Just to scare away any bears. And we have flares for emergencies.”

  I widen my eyes and freeze, just as Hutch breaks into a laugh. I punch his arm, and he ducks. He’s extra playful, which is hard to resist. Everyone is in a good mood out here.

  “Two people per kayak,” Jillian informs us. “Raise your hand if this is your first time in a kayak.”

  I raise my hand and so do six others.

  “Buddy up with one of the more experienced campers,” Simmons tells us.

  Randy slides up beside me and winks. Someone behind me (Julie probably) giggles. I shake my head, but it’s already decided.

  “Don’t worry, Sweetheart. I know CPR. I won’t let you drown.”

  “Please, do.” I roll my eyes in his direction.

  At the lake, I walk to the waterline and stare out at the pristine blue. The water is cold. It ripples, and has a silver sheen. The trees are a deep, dark green. It’s something I’ve only ever seen in photos. Now that I’m here, I commit it to memory. I never want to forget this view. It feels endless, like I’m the smallest thing in the world. It’s thrilling and scary—just like my feelings for Hutch.

  “River,” Randy calls out. “You ready?”

  Randy is already in our tandem kayak. He takes point. Hutch helps me with my things, and tightens the life vest around my chest. I’m supposed to pull on it to inflate if I fall overboard, which does exactly zero to calm my nerves.

  “Keep your strokes in time with Randy, okay?”

  “Don’t worry,” Randy says. “She knows how I like my strokes.”

  I snicker, and Hutch settles a disapproving glare at Randy. “I’m just fucking around, man,” Randy says. “Relax.”

  Hutch’s jaw ripples from the tension as he walks away, a hand on his knife.

  Men are dumb. I inhale deeply to calm my nerves. Then I realize I’m at Randy’s mercy to get across the water and onto the island in the distance. As we push off, I paddle tentatively, hitting Randy’s oar by accident.

  He turns around, losing all the sass and annoyance that he displays in front of others. He’s got two-face syndrome. I don’t think that’s a real thing, but it’s something I notice with a lot of people. They act one way in front of a crowd and way differently when they’re one-on-one.

  “Relax, River,” he says.

  “I hate when people tell me to relax. It makes me less relaxed. I’ve never been in the middle of a river. How deep is this thing, anyway?”

  He chuckles. “I’m not sure. Don’t think about that. I’ll start counting, okay? Start with the left. Right. Left. Right.”

  We fall into an easy rhythm. After a few minutes my arms are burning. I should’ve listened to Ransom and joined his morning kickboxing class. It’s too late for that now. Our y
ellow kayaks cut across the water, and I shout. Others answer my shout with even more hooting and hollering.

  “It’s really hard for you, isn’t it?” Randy asks.

  “What’s hard?” I shout. “And if you’re trying to be a perv, I swear to God I will murder you.”

  “I mean trusting someone else.”

  I don’t answer, but the truth is yes. I do have a hard time putting my trust in someone, even with something as small as paddling across a lake. We paddle in silence, our grunts getting more and more labored the closer we get.

  “Why are you like this?” I ask him.

  “Like what?”

  “I mean, you’re cool when it’s just us. But when you’re in front of other people, you’re a huge dick.”

  “I am what I am.”

  “Don’t forget, I’ve seen your dick.”

  He barks a laugh. “Oh, right. Thanks for not telling people, by the way. I don’t know, I guess I just act out. I don’t know why I say or do things, but when I do, it’s almost impossible to take back. I think in the scheme of things, I’m way less fucked up than the rest of my family.”

  “Yeah?”

  “One time I told my mother about my dad’s affairs. I had no idea that they had already agreed to sleep with other people. My dad practically has a whole other family in Seattle, how fucked up is that? Shit, all they do is tell me how to live my life, and who I can date, and what to do with my money. Fucking hypocrites. My dad said I couldn’t have my trust fund until I finished rehab and started a family. So here I am.”

  I feel like I’ve been hit with cold water. I’ve never heard him talk this much about himself. “So here you are, with your pill addiction.”

  “You know, I can’t get a hard-on for more than a minute unless I’m popping pills? I think I did something to my dick. The doctors tell me that’s not possible, but of course they would. They get paid by the drug companies. It’s all a fucking scam. And who gets fucked?”

  “Everyone, unless it’s by you.”

  He splashes me with cold water. Then he asks, “Are you going to tell me why you wanted people to think we hooked up?”

  “I have my reasons.” That’s something my dad always used to say when he didn’t want to explain things. Like why he kept giving my mother money even after she left us. Why he didn’t tell me he was sick until it was too late. I have my reasons.

  “Well, whatever they are. You’re okay, River Thomas.”

  “You’re… tolerable, Randall Rider.”

  “I hate my name. I think I might change it, after I get my trust fund.”

  “Must be nice.”

  “It’s the only good thing about being my father’s son.”

  • • •

  We get to land, and Randy hops out of the kayak. He pulls it halfway from the water so it doesn’t get carried back out with the tide. I get out and pull it the rest of the way. My arms are killing me, but I can’t stop now. We spend half the day setting up camp and building a fire.

  Simmons has it down to a science. He’s got oil and a lighter, but he wants to show off and impress Jillian. Her cheeks are red from kayaking, but she still sits near him and smiles. He pushes up his glasses after he blows on the little spark that comes from rubbing sticks together.

  Others help collect wood, and we keep it under a tarp. There’s a 30 percent chance of rain tomorrow.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” Julie announces.

  Simmons hands her a shovel and a roll of toilet paper. Her jaw falls down to her chin with embarrassment. She grabs both and scurries to the other side of the island.

  “Do you need help with your tent?” Hutch asks me.

  “Where’s yours?”

  He points to a tree. “We’ve got the whole island to ourselves, so everyone can spread out.”

  Then I have a thought. “Simmons,” I shout. “Be straight with me. Are there any bears?”

  Simmons pokes the fire with a stick and grins. “Maybe just a few lynxes.”

  “What the hell is that?”

  “Stop scaring her,” Jillian says, poking him in the stomach. “This is my second trip, and I can tell you I’ve never seen a bear here. Or the monster they keep promising.”

  As it gets dark, we huddle in a circle and cook beans and the chicken from the coolers. Over the next couple of days, we’re supposed to fish for our food. I’ve never had to go further than my delivery app for my dinner.

  Because everyone is so tired, they turn in early. The problem with tents is that you can hear everyone else’s snores and farts and sleep talk. Later that night I hear a zipper, and sit up to realize it’s mine. In here, Hutch and I can’t even talk because we’d be heard. He closes a little latch I didn’t even know existed from the inside.

  I let him into my sleeping bag, and fall asleep to the sound of his heart, the steady feeling of his body pressed against mine.

  Chapter 25

  I’ve decided I hate waking up to find Hutch missing. This time there isn’t a note, just a faded green leaf shaped like a spade. I grab my toiletry bag and head out to get some water to brush my teeth.

  What I don’t expect to see is Jillian emerging from Simmons’s tent. She looks like a deer in headlights. She grabs my hands, and I shake my head—I feel like I’m trapped in a silent film. I pull her with me and we walk fifteen minutes to the other side of the island, where we can finally talk without being heard.

  “I won’t say anything,” I say first.

  “River, this is important. It isn’t against the rules for us to be together, but Helen frowns upon staff dating staff.”

  “I’m a steel trap,” I tell her. “I won’t spread it around. Just, be more careful. You saw what happened with Randy and me. And we didn’t even do anything.”

  She looks nervous and scared. I wish I could tell her that I know how she feels, but our situations are way different, even if they both include sneaking around.

  Once she’s calmed down a bit, she goes back to the camp. I brush my teeth while sitting on a log. It’s a long way from bartending on the Lower East Side, but I feel a lot happier doing this. I still feel like I’m missing a nice whiskey to warm me up, and maybe some beers. The only thing I don’t miss is harder drugs. I’ve been feeling a different kind of high lately, and it has everything to do with Hutch. I wonder if I’m just replacing a deck of cards with Hutch.

  I spit my toothpaste on the ground, and wash my face with cold water. It wakes me up faster than any coffee in the world.

  “What’s on the agenda for today?” I ask back at camp, after I’ve changed into leggings, sweat pants, and a flannel shirt.

  Hutch has already gotten the fire started. He looks rumpled and adorably rugged with a day’s worth of facial hair. I assume no one’s shaving anything in the week we’ll be out here.

  “A hearty breakfast of beans and bacon.”

  I make a face. “We’re going to stink up the whole island by the time we’re done with this.”

  “How do your arms feel?” Hutch asks. “You up for some kayaking down the river, River?”

  I sit on the log and smile at the flames. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

  “Sometimes. It’s usually purely accidental.”

  “I wanted to go kayaking, too,” Julie says, emerging from her tent.

  “Great,” Hutch says, and I’m slightly disappointed it won’t just be the two of us.

  I think of Jillian and Simmons, who are also trying to keep their romance a secret. They aren’t doing a very good job—it’s day one and I’ve already caught them. I know Hutch and I have higher stakes. I feel like I’m gambling, even though I haven’t been at a table in months. But I’m gambling with something more valuable than money—Hutch’s future, and my own heart.

  After breakfast, Simmons takes a group of six out fishing. Jillian and three others stay at the campsite to “meditate.” Meditating is a pretty flimsy way of saying they’re too tired to do anything but hang around. Still,
everyone seems to need this break.

  That leaves Hutch, Julie, Pete, and myself, who are going kayaking. I see Julie standing by Hutch’s kayak. She holds the life vest against her chest and squeezes it like a stress ball. It’s disturbing how much she watches him. I’m trying not to let it bother me, but it’s difficult. It’s a crush that’s going very, very wrong.

  “Come on, Julie,” Pete tells her. He’s been growing out a beard for a couple of days. It makes him look more grown-up and serious. He prods her in the back with his oar. “River should go with someone more experienced than me, because she’s the newbiest.”

  Julie looks disappointed, but drops the vest back on the kayak and goes with Pete, muttering, “That’s not a real word.”

  I pick up the life vest and strap myself in. Hutch and I take off in the same direction as Pete and Julie, but keep a healthy distance between the two kayaks. The wind is strong, and the current gets rougher the further out we get. At least the morning sun is shining.

  “You okay?” Hutch asks every now and then.

  My arms are tired, but we’re paddling slowly. The way the kayak rocks makes my stomach queasy. Hutch comes to a stop, smack in the middle of the lake.

  “If you’re tired, you only have to say so,” he tells me.

  He stands, and I freak, fearing we’re going to flip over. But he’s perfectly balanced, like a surfing lumberjack. He turns himself around so we face each other. I like the view ten times better now that I can see his face.

  “Did you see anything weird this morning?” I ask.

  “Weird like how?” Hutch normally looks to the right, but he’s looking to the left, like he’s searching for an answer. I have the feeling he’s lying to me.

  “You should never play poker.” I laugh, and splash him.

  “Why not?”

  “You’re obviously hiding something. Your nose twitched a little. It never does that.”

  “You’re too good for your own well-being.”

  “So, what did you see?”

  He shrugs. “Same thing as you, I guess. Simmons saw me leave from your tent.”