Boot Camp

30: Old Version

It's 6:24 p.m.

I'm stuck in front of my closet, hunting around for something to wear. Most of the clothes I had brought with me are exercise and lounge clothing, nothing appropriate for a dinner out.

I look harder and find a pair of medium-wash jeans in the corner and a white top that rests slightly off my shoulders, accentuating my collarbones. Now I'm getting somewhere.

The room is empty, as I had told Martina that I wasn't hungry tonight. I hurry and pull on my jeans, realizing they're so much looser than they were last month. I ignore that fact, seeing that they look trendy enough anyway, and pull on the white top, fiddling with the neckline.

I realize that Axel has never seen me dressed up even remotely nor have I ever worn makeup around him.

It's strange how I have never been insecure about that, and maybe that says something about him. Either way, I have to deal with the little makeup I brought, concealing my undereyes, lining my eyes, and applying enough mascara to land me a Maybelline commercial.

When I'm done fixing my hair, I grab my phone and head out the door.

I slip out the exit of the dorms and hurry towards the parking lot on the opposite side of the camp. It's 6:59 when I reach the lot, and I try to locate his car.

I find Axel in the middle of the lot, standing in front of his silver car, and make my way over there, adjusting my hair and neckline of my shirt again. I was hoping I'd be the first one there, but I remind myself that not everything has to be a competition at this camp.

When I approach his car, I take in how he's decided to clean up: a linen button-down rolled up on his forearms with a few open buttons at the top and a pair of fitting dark jeans.

We don't say anything for a few seconds, our eyes doing all of the work. Then he swoops an arm around my waist, removing the artificial space I created.

It's so hard to be mad at him.

"You look stunning," he breathes, his hand splayed against my lower back. My knees go slightly weak, along with my rationality.

"And you know how to dress up," I complement back, my fingers tracing his chest. "It's sexy."

"I had a hunch I'd have to try a little harder with you," he replies effortlessly, pulling me towards his car. He holds open the passenger door for me, and I try not to act surprised at the sudden gallantry, sliding into the warm leather seat.

We don't say anything as he drives. I keep my gaze focused on the window, counting trees and stop signs absentmindedly, trying not to think about what might come out of this dinner. There's that thick tension between us again, and this time I can blame it partly on the outside, since Axel's half-open window is letting in a muggy warmth.

But the light goosebumps on my arm can't be from the weather.

After around twenty minutes, he pulls up into the far end of the parking lot of a slightly more upscale steakhouse, one I'd been to once for Poppy's high school graduation.

"I was worried about bringing you here," Axel says, his expression dead serious. "You know, since you're a strict vegan."

"Oh, shut up," I snap, getting out of the car myself, trying not to let myself laugh at his joke. He links our arms anyways as we walk to the restaurant, earning a loving stare from the older couple walking in at the same time. I want to scream at them that this isn't what they think, that we couldn't be further from a couple.

But I plaster on a smile, leaning in closer to Axel as we step inside of the dimly lit place and walk to the hostess. I'm overwhelmed by the smell of his cologne, which if I paid enough attention during my trips to the mall, isn't the cheap kind.