The Art of Being Alone (Together)

19 | The Right Choice

I wake up to the long-forgotten sound of rain the next morning, which makes me thankful it's a workshop day. There aren't many activities to do while it's pouring, and plus, the lake is off-limits for today thanks to Rita. Speaking of, I doubt the crew that's working on the dock is happy about the weather. It's coming down hard, and judging from the dark grey clouds looming overhead, it's not planning on stopping anytime soon.

Liz and I get drenched on our way to breakfast, manage to dry off a bit while we eat, and get totally soaked again when we head back to the cabin. The whole camp has a different atmosphere today, thanks to the weather and the grumpy men working by the lake. Things are usually pretty laid back, but today there isn't a single camper who isn't running from one place to the next, sneakers splashing into the puddles that have formed on the muddy dirt paths.

Some campers were prepared enough to pack umbrellas-- I, unfortunately, am not one of those campers. What's even more unfortunate is that even after my workshop, and even after eating lunch with Lizzie and Zack, it's still pouring. This means that I look like a dripping mess when I enter the painting building to wait for Ethan, which isn't my preferred look when I know I'm about to encounter the guy I may or may not have a raging crush on.

There's a decent amount of people already in the room, which I pretty much expected. Everyone's sticking to indoor activities today, and most campers are using the opportunity to work on their projects for the art show. 

Some of the people inside are chatting in groups as they work casually, while others look like they're in their own, hyper-focused worlds, headphones in and backs hunched over their canvases.

I head to one of the large, empty tables, cringing at the squishing sound my Vans make with each step. As I sit, I take out my phone and use the front camera to try to put myself together a bit.

I comb my fingers through my hair, suddenly seeing the appeal of Lizzie's short haircut, which managed to dry completely by the time she was done eating her sandwich. Mine is tangled and will likely stay wet for the next two hours, but thankfully, it's the only thing that looks out of place. If I was wearing any makeup, that would definitely be a different story, so I'm glad I decided to ditch it for the summer.

I hear the door open behind me and turn to see Ethan poke his head inside. His eyes search the room before they meet mine, and the smile he gives me is genuine enough to send a jolt of jitters under my skin.

He pauses in the doorway and gives his umbrella a few shakes before closing it. Outside, the camp is quieter than usual, absent of the usual chatter and laughter. Instead, the only sound is the rain beating against the ground and tapping on the roof overhead.

Ethan hangs his umbrella on one of the hooks by the door and strolls over, looking content. "I love the rain."

"Really?" I raise my eyebrows, honestly surprised by the information. 

"What, you don't?"

"It's not that-- I guess I just wouldn't have expected you to," I admit. The rain sort of seems like Ethan's polar opposite-- he's always so cheerful, synonymous with the sunny days I've become so used to. A grey sky and hours of rain seem so dull compared to his bright smile and optimistic outlook. "You seem like a sunshine kind of guy."

"Well, you're kinda right," Ethan says, already heading over to grab his covered easel. He wheels it over, facing it away from me as I swivel in his direction. "Nothing beats a sunny day. But rain is always nice for a change."

He walks over to one of the cabinets, opens it, and takes out a small wicker basket filled with tubes of paint. He also grabs a wooden palette before walking back over and standing behind the easel, removing the fabric and setting it on the table. I try to angle myself the same way I had been last time as I wonder how far along the painting is. Will I get to see it today?