“Why would you say that?” I ask, but we’ve reached where Ashleigh is sitting next to Janice, their feet dipped into the very deep end. Janice isn’t in the lifeguard chair (some older guy is manning it), but she has sunglasses on and keeps her eyes on the pool. She’s focused, but she smiles as Ashleigh talks, and they both laugh at something as we approach them.
“That’s so funny,” Janice says as we sit down next to Ashleigh. Ashleigh looks over at us and frowns a little.
“What’s so funny?” George asks.
“Ashleigh was telling me about this guy who kept trying to ask her out at school,” Janice says. “You should tell it.”
“Oh, so he just wouldn’t get the hint,” Ashleigh says. “So finally I just grabbed my closest straight friend and said, ‘Can we just make out in front of him until he goes away?’ and she was like, ‘okay,’ and so next time he came over to bother me, I started making out with her and he was all offended! He said, ‘You should have said something.’ As if repeatedly telling him I was a demisexual lesbian wasn’t enough? Then he called us dykes and ranted about me on Instagram—but at least he stopped asking me out.”
“Yeah, that’s funny,” George says, throwing me a look. We both know a story about her making out with a straight girl is probably not something that just came up. “But, Ashleigh, we have to go back to our cabin—remember what we talked about?”
Ashleigh frowns, knowing we have nothing to go back to.
“Remember?” I say. “You made us promise.”
“Yeah,” she says. “Sorry, Janice, I’d better get back.”
“That’s okay. See you later.”
“Later,” Ashleigh says as we get up. We all start walking back to the other side of the pool. I’m about to jump in and rejoin Hudson, but Ashleigh tugs on my arm. “We said we were going back to the cabin. She’ll know I’m avoiding her if we don’t.”
“Right,” I say with a sigh. I catch Hudson’s eye and frown and shrug, letting myself be dragged away by Ashleigh. He waves at me, a sad look on his face.
We trudge back up to the cabin, Ashleigh frowning. “Sorry,” she says. “Sorry, sorry. I know I said I wasn’t going to do it, but, like, there aren’t many girls here I really click with enough to want to …”
“Darling, you’re at a queer camp. Have you tried clicking with the other girls?”
“Well …,” she says. “Daphne, two years ago.”
“She’s gone,” I say. No campers over eighteen allowed. Everyone keeps in touch—we just don’t see them during the summer anymore. It’s kind of sad, but then we hear stories about them going off to college and living every day like it’s camp, and it’s more like they’ve escaped than they’ve left.
“I know, but, like, I need to know someone, really like them, before I want to … you know. I don’t just think ‘she’s hot’ about some girl and then try to go after her. And it feels like no one wants to get to know me.”
“That’s idiotic,” George says.
“Hard agree,” I say. “Not everyone is demisexual. Plenty of the girls want to get to know you.”
Ashleigh laughs. “Yeah, but then what if I don’t like them?”
“Then walk away,” George says. “But promise me you’ll talk to someone besides the straight girl this summer?”
“Yeah,” Ashleigh says as we reach our cabin. “Yeah, thanks, guys.”
“What was going on with you and Brad?” I ask George as we hop in the showers. The bathroom has four sinks and six showers, each with their own stall and towel hook so no one can see us naked, but we can still talk. We shout over the water.
“That sort of thing has been happening a lot lately,” George calls back. “I got hairy, now everybody is into me all of a sudden. The boys at school barely noticed me before; now I’ve slept with three of them.”
“You’ve had sex?” I ask, happy he can’t see me blushing red in the shower. I have not. I mean, made out, sure, and it’s not like I don’t know how it feels when another guy’s body is against yours and he’s horny. Two summers ago, Carter Monroe kind of implied he wanted to get naked with me after we spent some time making out, but I want my first time to be special. And with Hudson.
“Mmm-hm,” George answers.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ashleigh asks.
“It didn’t seem like that big a deal,” George says. “I’m from Manhattan, darlings. Sex is just something you do sometimes.”
I blush again and force myself to laugh.
“Oh, don’t try that jaded act with us,” Ashleigh says. “We know you. You’re supposed to tell us this stuff.”
“I guess …,” George says, his voice a little hard to hear under the water. I finish washing and turn the faucet off, then start drying myself with my towel. “Look,” he says, “it was … embarrassing. Like, suddenly I look more adult and people want me and I jump into bed with the first of them who offers? I didn’t want you guys to think I was a slut.”
“Why would we think that?” I ask, wrapping my towel around my waist.
“Well, you’re holding out for Hudson, and Ashleigh is only into girls if she has a real bond with them, and here I am, screwing a guy whose last name I don’t remember.”
“Was it fun?” Ashleigh asks.
“A little,” George says, turning the water off. “The first time was awkward. But then it was fun. Lots of fun. Highly recommended.”
Ashleigh and I both laugh.
“I don’t think you’re a slut,” I say, doing my hair in the mirror. Styling it to look like I don’t care how it looks is very difficult.
“Me neither,” Ashleigh says, coming out of the stall, already dressed in denim cutoffs and a black tank top. She runs her hands through her hair, then heads back into the main cabin.
“Thank you, darlings. But remember, if anyone cute asks, I’m a complete whore.” He pushes open his shower curtain and steps out, his huge pink towel wrapped around his chest and still almost hitting the floor.
“How about Brad?” I ask.
“Maybe,” George says, tilting his head and shaking a can of hairspray in front of the mirror. “He’s cute. But it’s only the first day.”
I finish in the mirror and go back into the cabin to get out one of the pre-selected masc-enough outfits, this one a white T-shirt and blue shorts, then come back to the bathroom, hop into the stall, and change. When I step out, George is scrunching his hair, and Ashleigh is back, applying dark lipstick in the mirror.
“So,” I say. “After dinner, can you show me the tree? Make sure Hudson is following us—but at a distance.”
“How are you going to arrange that?” Ashleigh asks.
“I think if we all eat with them, and then after, as we’re leaving, you pull me aside or something and you’re like, ‘We need to show you something,’ and head toward the obstacle course, he’ll follow.”
“He’ll follow without being seen?” George asks. “I’m as much for wacky hijinks as the next homo, but this feels like a stretch.”