"Yes?"
"I- I um- well, you- I-"
"Listen, kid, the campers' cabins are on the other side." He points behind him. "Now, move, yeah?"
"That isn't it!"
"Then what is it?" He still has that same bored tone.
Finally, the words I've been meaning to say spi...
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Maybe it was crazy of me, but I told Summer she could stay with me as long as she needed to after everyone from Tamsyn went home since school is starting back up in a few weeks.
Reluctantly, she'd agreed to it.
We haven't quite reached a point where we're sleeping in the same bed, so she packed up her stuff from home and managed to get most of it into my spare room. The rest of it, though, is occupying my garage.
I'm not complaining. Sharing my space with her is like sharing my life with her, and there's something about that that has always appealed to me a little too much for someone my age.
Summer's dancing in the kitchen, baking who knows what as per usual.
She's been going to therapy for the past two and a half weeks, and apparently her therapist says that her OCD comes from a lack of control that like essentially traumatized her or something. Ms. Therapist says that things like baking or cooking or crafting should distract her enough to work her toward a point of overcoming most tendencies.
Now, Summer would never say it to Ms. Therapist's face, but she thinks it's bullshit. Summer says that she's always done a good job with controlling the not-so-good obsessive thoughts.
Ah, and while we're on about how she thinks that's bullshit, she also thinks that her therapist commenting about her having a fear of abandonment is crap.
Who knows, though. Her mind, not mine.
When she sees me entering our kitchen, she perks up.
"Hi-hi."
"Hey." I greet her, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
She grins up at me. "Thanks."
"Mm-hmm."
"Okay. So, I started making cupcakes, but I got bored and went upstairs. Then I rewatched Batman and the distracted me, so when I came back down, they were burnt—"
I scrunch my nose. "Hence the smell."
"Yeah. Sorry about that."
I only smile at her as I lean against the counter, watching her as she rambles on and waves her hand animatedly.
"I started making cookies, though. Last time, I added too much flour and they just tasted like biscuits, but I think I've got the hang of it this time."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yup," she says proudly.
I can't help it when I tug her toward me by her wrist. She stands between my legs, peering up at me like she doesn't know her very existence fucking seduces me.
I take her face in my hands, tilting my head a little as I lean down toward her face.
