Summer with Mr. Badboy

T W O

"I COULD ask you the same, towel boy." I fired back at him. So many questions flowed through my mind right now. Why the hell was he walking around camp in only a towel? Is this Zane? Why does he stares at me like I'm his next fucking meal?

A humorless chuckle escapes him as he walks to his closet, his bare, muscular back facing me. Casually dropping the towel to show his well defined ass. At least, for a man it is

In surprise I yelp and cover my eyes. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Wrong with me?" I heard him fiddling around to put on his clothes, and I slowly moved my hand away from my eyes. Sighing relieved that he's now dressed in gray sweatpants and a black compression shirt, revealing his perfect abs. "You're the weird chick randomly laying in my cabin." He shot back as he thuds down on his bed.

"It's not like I want to share this shit hole with a dumbfuck like you." I retort, crossing my arms. Could this day get any fucking worse than discovering I was sharing my cabin with some Justin Bieber wannabe?

He rubbed his face and sighed deeply before he turned to look at me with a cold expression on his face. "Look... just don't touch my fucking stuff, don't talk to me and we'll be fine. yeah?" He doesn't even ask, no, he says it like he owns the fucking place.

"Yeah whatever, no talking. I'm fine with that." I respond, trying to mimic his cold and nonchalant demeanor. But it's hard when there's a fine god-looking-like man in front of you.

For the next hour, we didn't talk, we didn't look at each other, we just simply breathed. I was busy unpacking the circus tent I brought with me. Quietly humming a song from Adele as I folded my clothes neatly and put them in my closet. From time to time, Zane would sigh dramatically or mutter something under his breath.

Just when I was about to finish up with packing out my stuff, the door opened. I recognized him as the redhead from earlier. He walked in wearing a navy blue hoodie with denim jorts.

"Zane where the fuck have you been? The bonfire is—" he paused when he spotted me, standing there like a deer in headlights.

Zane gets up from his bed, his hand raking through his messy brown hair. "Let's go Cole, now." He demands and tried to push the redhead, Cole. Outside the cabin.

"She can come with us, everyone is supposed to be there. So why not?" Cole slides past Zane and holds his hand out to me like a distinguished gentleman. So far he's the nicest person I've met in this camp. Zane leans against the doorframe and watched us. If looks could kill, I'd be ten feet in the ground by now.

I took Cole's hand, and he helped me get up from my bed. "Thank you, I'm-"

"Myra from.. London, right?" Cole asks with a cheeky smile on his face, Acting like a golden retriever who just found his long lost toy.

I nod. And before I even got the chance to speak he interrupted me and we started to walk out of the cabin. Zane walking in front of us, kicking some small rocks and sticks while he's at it.

"All the way from London? Holy fuck. Or your parents hate you, or your rich." Cole babbled. He might have a point, coming from London all the way to Canada Isn't just something that will happen in a snap of a finger.

I raised an eyebrow, smirking at his question. "Maybe both."

As we got closer to the bonfire, I could hear loud talking and laughing in the distance, the smell of a campfire and fresh food filled my nostrils.

"This is a thing we do every year." Cole explains as we approach the bonfire, the fire in the middle is humongous and I can already feel the heat burning on my skin. Groups of teens surrounded the fire with their sticks with marshmallows on them that were almost as black as my soul.

As we approached the crowd, I took in the scene—people scattered around, some on benches, others sitting in the grass or on logs, all illuminated by the soft, flickering glow of the flames. The bonfire crackled, sending spirals of embers drifting up into the night sky, and laughter echoed off the surrounding trees.

Cole guided me over to a small group, introducing me as "Myra, the British girl who might be here because she's rich, or her parents hate her—or both." His grin was wide and friendly, instantly putting me at ease. The others greeted me with a mixture of curious nods and Heys, though Zane stood off to the side, hands shoved into his pockets, his gaze cutting through the firelight like he was sizing up the entire world.

I shifted uncomfortably under his stare but forced myself to ignore it. If he wanted to act like some brooding prince, fine by me. I wasn't about to let him ruin my night. As I turned my attention back to the group, one of the girls, a pink-haired girl with freckles and a warm smile, handed me a marshmallow on a stick.

"Here, you have to try this. Roasting marshmallows is fucking heaven," she said, giving me a wink.

I took the stick thanking her and I knelt by the fire, trying to get the marshmallow just the right shade of golden brown without setting it ablaze. Beside me, Cole was already on his second marshmallow, deliberately letting it catch fire and then blowing it out with a laugh. He grinned at me like this was some kind of life hack.

"You gotta let it burn a bit," he insisted, leaning over to inspect my slow, careful technique. "It's faster."

I smirked, "Maybe I don't want charcoal for dessert, Cole."

"Oh, look, fancy British girl's too good for burnt marshmallows," he teased, nudging me playfully.

"Fancy British girl is also too good for stupid advice," I shot back, keeping my marshmallow safely in the flame's outer edge. He threw his head back, laughing.

"Hey! I give the best advice!" He states, trying to act serious until he bursts out into laughter again.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted Zane and the curly-haired boy I'd noticed earlier, Mateo, talking in hushed tones before they slipped away from the bonfire.

"Maybe I should give you a few survival tips for dealing with Zane," Cole teased, dropping down on the grass beside me. He leaned back against the log, taking a lazy bite from his marshmallow. "Otherwise, I doubt you'll make it through the next nine weeks." His tone was playful, but there was a hint of seriousness that didn't go unnoticed.

I plopped down next to him, carefully blowing on my marshmallow to avoid burning my tongue. "Oh, please. I think I can handle one brooding jerk for nine weeks," I said with a smirk. Then I leaned in closer, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "Besides... he's all bark and no bite, right?"

Cole let out a laugh, shaking his head and nearly choking on his marshmallow. "Oh, Myra, no," he said, wiping his mouth. "Has he given you the 'don't talk to me, don't touch my stuff' speech yet?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yep. No talking, no touching his stuff."

"See? That's exactly what I mean." Cole chuckled, pausing to swallow. "If you even think about breaking one of those rules, he'll throw a fit. But trust me—he's not as scary as he likes people to think." He winked, grabbing three marshmallows to spear onto his stick.

"Oh, and one more thing." Cole leaned forward, letting the flames lick at his marshmallows. "If you ever walk in and there's a naked girl sprawled out on his bed in the middle of the day—or night—don't freak out. It's just a Zane thing." He said it so casually, like having random people lying naked on your bed was the most normal thing in the world.

I almost choked on my marshmallow. "Just... a Zane thing?" I scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "Should I also brace myself for him bringing over random naked guys, or is he strictly girls-only?"

Cole burst out laughing, and I joined in, our laughter cutting through the crackling of the bonfire.

For the rest of the night, Cole filled me in on all the juicy camp gossip, sharing stories about the people here and the ridiculous antics that made this place its own little universe. And I had to admit—this camp felt a lot less daunting than I'd originally thought.