Lexi.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
I knew this coaching gig would be a nice way to pass time, but no one warned me about the plot twist starring my ex-fling lounging on my couch, smirking as if he didn't ruin my fucking life.
It wasn't that I hated staying at home, but when the walls started closing in, and the air felt too heavy to breathe, I knew I needed a change of atmosphere.
A change of scenery, you know, a distraction, and coaching at a summer camp seemed like the perfect escape.
The camp brochure had promised beautiful views, peace, and—most importantly—a paycheck.
They forgot to mention the five-hour drive in a bus that smelled like feet and cheap cologne but that's okay though.
The bus hit another bump, breaking my trail of thoughts. I groaned as my head hit the window.
Great start Lexi. Really thriving there.
I rubbed the sore spot as I glanced outside the window, watching trees blur by.
So, as I was saying....
I just needed a break from the same four walls, the same routine.
Nothing more.
As soon as the bus came to a jerky halt...no one needed to tell me twice, I grabbed my suitcase and stumbled my way down the aisle like I couldn't get off the bump-and-rattle express fast enough.
Then I found my way into Whispering Pines Retreat.
Oh...that was the name of the camp.
Stepping into camp was like stepping into one of those postcards with smiling faces and perfectly trimmed lawns.
I took in a deep breath.
I had to admit—it was nice not to breathe in exhaust fumes and questionable life choices for once.
This might be just what I needed.
I started walking toward the main office, where a line of half-tired, half-enthusiastic coaches formed like we were queuing up for our life sentences. I glanced around and my eyes landed on a couple of kids. One was smearing dirt across his face like it was moisturizer while his friend attempted to eat a pinecone.
Peak childhood.
When it was finally my turn, the receptionist—a cheerful woman with the kind of forced enthusiasm that screamed "I've had too much coffee"—beamed at me.
"Name?"
"Lexi," I said, brushing my hair back. "Basketball coach."
She scanned the list. "Cabin 14. You'll be sharing with another coach—helps 'build connections.'"
Ah, forced bonding. My favorite.
Because nothing screams team bonding like forced cohabitation.
She handed me a key and gestured toward the row of rustic cabins tucked under the trees.
I took the key and tossed it in my bag, offering a polite smile. "Thanks. Any chance my roommate is quiet, neat, and doesn't believe in small talk?"
The woman laughed like I was joking.
I wasn't.
As I turned to leave, a blur of movement shot out of nowhere—a tiny human missile. I barely had time to brace myself before a kid rammed into my legs.
"Sorry!" he yelped, already sprinting off toward the basketball courts, leaving a dusty handprint on my jeans.
Welcome to Camp Chaos—where the air was fresh, personal space goes to die, children run like caffeinated squirrels, and my hopes for a peaceful summer were probably a joke.
But hey, maybe if I were lucky, my roommate would be someone quiet and sane—two qualities I desperately needed right now.
Cabin 14 was tucked away at the end of a gravel path. It looked quaint from the outside, all rustic wood and ivy creeping up the sides.
The moment I opened the door, my hope for peace vanished.
Music.
Loud, bass-thumping music rattled the walls. The air was filled with the scent of smoke and something distinctly male. I hesitated in the doorway, wondering if I'd walked into a frat house by mistake.
I almost turned back, but I'd lugged my suitcase all the way down that gravel path, and I wasn't about to retreat. I stepped inside, the music vibrating through my bones as I navigated down the narrow hallway.
Voices echoed from the living room, loud. The laughter followed.
I stopped at the threshold, my eyes widening at the scene before me. A group of guys lounged across the worn couches, cigarettes dangling from lazy fingers, laughter mingling with the smoke curling toward the ceiling.
Every head turned when they noticed me, conversations halting mid-sentence. I felt the heat rise to my cheeks as half a dozen pairs of eyes scanned me from head to toe. I opened my mouth, an apology on my lips, but my voice got lost somewhere in my throat.
It was like stepping straight into a frat party—if frat parties involved smoking, the unmistakable smell of cheap beer, and a living room full of loud guys who clearly weren't here to coach basketball.
"Uh… sorry, I think I got the wrong cabin," I backed up, ready to nope my way out of whatever disaster this was, but then—
"Lexi?"
The voice froze me in place.
It hit me like a punch to the gut.
Deep, smooth, and way too familiar. My stomach twisted, my heart dropped, and my feet froze in place.
I turned slowly, my pulse thudding in my ears. And there he was...
Perched on the arm of the couch like he owned the place, legs spread wide, that cocky smirk curving his lips. He looked the same—no, worse—better. Tousled brown hair, tanned skin, and those sharp, infuriating cheekbones. His dark eyes gleamed with something unreadable, something dangerous, as they dragged slowly over me. There was no mistaking him.
Theo.
"You're a hard girl to forget," he said, his smirk deepening like he knew exactly what his words did to me. "But I gotta admit—I wasn't expecting you here."
He looked almost the same. Almost. A little older, a little sharper around the edges. But still him. The boy who'd made me laugh like no one else, then left me to pick up the pieces.
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out.
The music continued to play, the voices in the room slowly resuming, but all I could hear was the echo of his voice and the rapid beating of my heart.