Chapter Text
The ceilings of the lodge feel like they’ve gotten shorter, but Dylan knows it’s probably just that he’s gotten taller since he was a camper here. The first-day jitters are just as strong as they were when he was a kid though, and the air still smells like cedar trees and lemon pine-sol. Late morning sun rays filter through the large windows, casting everything in a warm glow.
The other counselors are all seated around a wooden dining table in the center of the room, split off into various pockets of awkward small talk. The tabletop is scattered with various carvings in the wood - initials, hearts, smiley faces, and an obligatory crudely-drawn dick.
Dylan tries tuning into the various conversations happening around him, but he doesn’t see a clear in into either of them. One of the girls is shyly flipping through her sketchbook, showing it to two of the other counselors, and Dylan’s too far down the table to get a good look. And then there are the jocky guy’s relentless attempts to flirt with the girl furiously texting on her phone; which gives Dylan too much second-hand embarrassment to bear.
That only leaves the counselor sitting right beside him, who’s got earbuds in and is looking off into space. And like, obviously, that’s the universally-accepted sign for ‘don’t-talk-to-me,’, but they’ve been waiting for Mr. H to show up for what feels like forever now, and isn’t the whole point of them coming to camp a weekend early for them to bond as counselors or whatever?
He puts on a smile and nudges the boy with his elbow, hoping he doesn’t look as awkward as he feels.
The boy flinches slightly and turns to look at Dylan, seemingly neither annoyed nor incredibly intrigued. He takes a single earbud out of his ear, the one that’s closer to Dylan.
Dylan’s worked with less before. “Hey,” he greets, nodding his head a little.
He quirks an eyebrow. “Hey?”
“So.”
And he should probably follow that up with something, right? Like, he should definitely say something, since he’s literally the one that started the conversation and all. But for whatever reason — probably the first-day nerves — he’s not sure how to proceed. Especially since this guy seems impossible to get a quick read on.
The seconds tick by as Dylan racks his mind for something to say, until —
“Did you need something?” The boy asks slowly.
Just say something, literally anything—
“Uh, yeah,” Dylan quickly recovers, “I actually have like, a super serious question to ask you.”
“Ok?”
Dylan points down to the tabletop dick. “Check out my morning wood.”
He examines it, his expression still perplexingly neutral. “Is that a question?” He asks, looking back up.
“Uh, the question is…” Dylan stalls, motioning with his hands aimlessly, “Like…what do you think?”
The boy takes a second, eyes scanning Dylan as if he’s trying to get a read on him too. “I think that’s pretty unimpressive,” he finally replies.
“Ouch,” Dylan places a hand over his heart and winces.
The corner of the boy’s mouth quirks up for a fleeting moment, but then the earbud goes back in and he’s looking at his phone again.
“Ok, yeah, cool — nice meeting you too,” Dylan mumbles under his breath, turning away.
It wasn’t his finest hour, but it wasn’t his worst either. But maybe this guy’s just super rude or doesn’t appreciate his sense of humor; Dylan can’t decide which would be harder to deal with all summer.
Thankfully, Mr. H chooses that moment to finally enter the lodge and stand before them at the end of the table, cup of coffee in hand. The conversations quickly peter off as everyone repositions to face him, all eager smiles, jittery legs, and expectant glances.
“Welcome to Hackett’s Quarry!” He greets in the same way that Dylan remembers, “I’m so excited to have you all as counselors this summer. We’re gonna spend this weekend getting to know each other and getting things ready for when the campers arrive Monday morning.”
“Let’s go!” The jocky guy cheers with a single clap and fist pump, garnering a round of smiles from the table.
“Love the spirit, Jacob,” Mr. H says sincerely. He proceeds to go over more details of the camp’s setup and the plan for the coming days, like what cabins they’ll be assigned to, how scheduling will work, and other important details. Then comes the double-whammy: they’re going to have to surrender their phones, and they’re going to have to play icebreakers.
Again, Dylan doesn’t know which one is worse.
A round of groans arises from the group.
“No phones?” Furious Texter frowns, “That wasn’t in the training manual!”
“New summer, new rules!”
“But how are we supposed to live?”
“By connecting with nature!” Mr. H replies, as if it’s that easy, “Here at Hackett’s Quarry, we want you to have the most authentic camp experience possible.”
“But what if we need to call someone?” She counters, crossing her arms over her chest, “Like, what if there’s an emergency?”
“There’s a landline right down the hall in my office,” He assures the group, “I promise you’ll be safe the entire time you’re here.”
She slumps further down in her seat, phone reappearing and fingers flying across its screen even faster than before. “My followers so aren’t going to believe this.”
Dylan raises his hand and glances around the table. “Uh, can we circle back to the part where we have to play icebreakers? I feel like that’s the arguably worse news, Mr. H.”
A few muffled laughs let Dylan know he’s not alone.
“It’s important that you guys all become friends,” Mr. H insists, “Since you’re going to be working so closely this summer. I know it’s cheesy, but it also works.”
“Which I totally get,” Dylan nods, “But like…what if we skipped that since it’s like the part that everyone totally hates and is super awkward?”
“Playing a couple icebreakers won’t kill you kids,” Mr. H smiles wryly, “And remember, what doesn’t kill you—”
“—Makes you stronger,” the group replies reluctantly.
“Good, you know your Hackett history!” Mr. H remarks, clearly pleased. He sets his coffee down on the table and rubs his hands together. “Now, let’s get started.”
Phones are surrendered and locked away in Mr. H’s office to varying levels of dismay. Then it’s bonding time; they leave the lodge and take a quick hike to the lakefront, Mr. H stopping every so often to point out important buildings to them. Once they’ve arrived and seated themselves around the firepit, Mr. H describes the rules of the icebreaker he's gonna make them play.
Thankfully, it isn’t too embarrassing: they just have to think of fun facts about themselves or things that they like that correspond with the letters of their first names (e.g., as Mr. H demonstrates: C for Caleb and Kaylee, his kids; H for Hackett’s Quarry, “the best place in the world;” R for his go-to coffee order: regular, black; and so on and so forth). He’ll split them off into pairs and have them rotate partners, making sure that everyone gets to share their names, their roles, and a chance to pair off with every other counselor in addition to himself.
Even though the game is pretty cheesy, Mr. H wasn’t wrong — it is pretty effective at getting to know everyone. They can at least bond over the immediate corniness of the situation. As the noonday sun shines brightly, the counselors all pair off of their own accord, sitting around the lakeside fire pit in scattered couplings and discussing letters and jobs amiably.
Dylan pairs up with Sketchbook (Abi) first, who’s sweet, but also seems super shy and even more nervous than him. He’s able to make her laugh though, and just as their bonding over what shows they’ve been watching recently, it’s time to switch partners.
It feels a little like what Dylan imagines speed dating is like, getting only 5 or so breezy minutes to talk to each counselor. But before long, he feels well enough acquainted with the others to start loosening up a little. They actually laugh at his jokes, which is great, and they all seem pretty chill overall.
When it’s finally time for their last round of pairing, Dylan’s looking around the group, trying to remember who he hasn’t talked to yet, when he realizes that the one person he hasn’t partnered up with yet just so happens to be—
— Already walking across the clearing towards him. It’s the earbuds guy from earlier, still looking as cool and unbothered as ever. Does anything phase him?
Dylan rises to his feet, only to remember that they’re probably going to be sitting as they talk, so he should probably just sit down again, but before he can finish mentally debating if immediately sitting down again or awkwardly continuing to stand would be more awkward, the other boy’s reached him.
“Morning wood,” he greets dryly, raising a hand.
Dylan feels his cheeks grow warm. “It’s Dylan, actually. Morning wood’s just my middle name.”
“Your parents must really hate you.”
“I mean, yeah, probably. The kids in school were definitely cruel about it.”
He doesn’t really laugh, but Dylan can hear him exhale through his nose as he sits down, so that’s basically close enough, right? He decides to count it as a win as he sits down on the log as well.
There’s a beat of silence as they sit side by side. Their knees bump into each other momentarily before Dylan instinctively inches away.
“I guess we should the thing?” The boy reminds them.
“Oh, the name thing?” Dylan glances over his shoulder, back towards Mr. H, “Yeah, I guess that’s probably what we should like, do.” As he turns back toward the other counselor, he finds himself further motivated to see if he can get him to come out of his shell a little. Mr. H did say that the entire point of this thing was to become friends, or whatever. And after six rounds of having just done this exercise over and over, Dylan feels ready to up the charm.
“Ok, well, I’m—”
“Wait, don’t tell me,” Dylan interrupts, holding up his hand, “I’m totally amazing at guessing names.”
He gives him a skeptical look. “You want to guess my name?”
“Yeah, just give me a sec.” Dylan squints as he studies him, noting the faint mole above the other boy’s lip, “Your name is totally…Bartholomew.”
“Bartholomew?”
“Yeah, you look like a total Bartie.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Tell me I’m right,” Dylan smiles.
“Not even close,” he replies, and there it is! The smallest, most reserved of smiles in return. Dylan immediately realizes that one of his summer goals is going to be to make this happen as much as possible. “It’s Ryan.”
“Ok, so I was only off by like four letters.”
“So, all of them?”
“There was an A…and an R.”
“Right,” Ryan smirks.
“Do the spelling thing,” Dylan encourages.
“Fine. R for Sam Raimi, one of my favorite horror directors; Y for yogurt—”
“Yogurt?” Dylan cuts in incredulously.
“I couldn’t think of any other things that start with ‘y’,” Ryan insists, looking a little embarrassed.
“I mean, I just said your mom for mine.”
Ryan eyes him warily before continuing on. “— Y for yogurt, which I don’t like; A for animation, which I want to study; and N for New York, where I wanna go to school.”
“Animation, huh?” Dylan nods, “Abi was talking about how she was super into art and stuff like that.”
“Yeah, that’s actually what we talked about most of our time.”
“Are you teaching some of the art classes here like she is?”
“No, sailing.”
“Sailing? That sounds fancy.”
“Not really,” Ryan admits, “The ‘sailing’ classes are just gonna be me teaching a bunch of kids how to use canoes – it’s not gonna be as hard as like, actual sailing.”
“I dunno about that,” Dylan says, taking a deep, faux-serious breath, “Canoes can be pretty scary. My first summer here, Baby Dylan definitely capsized into the lake; it was super dramatic. There was like algae up my nose and everything. There’s a reason they’re gonna have me sitting in a chair all summer.”
“Gross.”
“Chairs?”
“Algae.”
“Right.”
“You just need lessons,” Ryan continues.
“Could you teach me?”
“It’s my job.”
“Then I guess it’s a date,” Dylan teases.
Ryan seems momentarily flustered but quickly recovers. “Yeah, right,” he says, dismissive and aloof once more.
“I can picture it now,” Dylan continues, sighing exaggeratedly, “You, me, and 80 screaming kids.”
“Hmm.”
“That sounds like a good time to me.”
“Are you always this funny?” Ryan asks with a straight face. The sun is shining in his eyes slightly, making him squint a little, but also making his gaze shine with a subtle intensity.
“Excuse you,” Dylan huffs, “I’m hilarious, actually.”
“I bet.”
“Look, just cut me some slack, ok? I’m just not used to doing icebreakers with such broodingly mysterious, completely insusceptible to my humor, yogurt-hating types of guys before, is all. Like you’re so…”
Attractive.
Wait, what?
And that’s when Dylan suddenly realizes why he initially felt like he couldn’t talk to Ryan like a normal human being — Ryan’s low-key hot. It’s a realization that seems both novel and obvious at the same time, like when you’re searching for your phone only to find out you were holding it the entire time. Like, Dylan didn’t fully notice at first — first-day jitters and all — but once the feeling fully starts to set in, he thinks about how it’s been creeping up on him all morning, starting right back when they first sat beside each other in the lodge.
Also, the longer he looks at Ryan’s face, the more he appreciates what a quality face it is. It’s a solid 10 out of 10. He’s got real dreamy eyes and all that, and nice hands, and his voice is all nice and—
“So…?” Ryan cuts in.
“So?” Dylan echos, straightening up. God, he hopes he wasn’t staring.
“I’m so what?”
Right. “—So mysterious.”
“You said that already.”
“When?”
“Literally just now.”
“Well, sorry I’m not amazing at showering you with compliments.”
“Is ‘mysterious’ even a compliment?”
Dylan shrugs in a way that he hopes seems blasé. “It can be, I guess.”
So, Ryan’s hot. That doesn’t mean that this has to be like a thing. Dylan’s been around plenty of hot guys before, and he lived, obviously. Sure, he was never thousands of miles away from home and sleeping only cabins apart for two months with them, but—
But nothing . He’s here for the experience, and the money, and the memories, not to get hung up on some camp crush that’ll only end with them never seeing each other again.
“Do your name thing,” Ryan says, nudging him.
“Right, right. Ok, so, first we got D , for—”
“If you say Deez nuts or something, I’m walking away,” Ryan says, 100% serious.
Dylan fights to hold in a laugh. “Uh, I wasn’t, yee of little faith, but I definitely should’ve said that.”
“Mmhm.”
“Just — let me finish. D for drumming, which I tried to take lessons for, but it didn’t go that well; Y for—”
“Your mom.”
“Exactly. L for Lenivy, my last name; A for the tattoo I got on my arm last summer; and N for the nineties, the best era of music.”
“Really, the best?”
“Look, I know everyone always says the sixties was the best and all that, but the nineties had the best grunge and alt-rock, like Pearl Jam and Nirvana and Radiohead and whatever. It’s objectively the best.”
“Fair enough. Why are you going to be sitting in a chair all summer?”
“I just get really tired a lot,” Dylan shrugs.
“Alright.”
“Kidding. I’m doing announcements and music in the radio hut.”
Ryan nods in understanding.
“Which means I’m probably going to have the camp theme stuck in my head for the next two months.”
“Thoughts and prayers.”
“So kind of you,” Dylan smiles.
“I try.”
Ryan’s clearly funny under all his straight-faced looks and dry observations. With time, Dylan’s sure he can get him to come out of his shell more. You know, in the name of Hackett’s Quarry camp counselor friendship, and all.
Mr. H, having just finished up talking with Nick, calls out to the rest of the group around the fire pit, letting them know it’s time to wrap up and head back to the lodge for lunch.
Ryan glances back towards Dylan, nods again, and stands up, walking back towards Mr. H without saying anything else, leaving Dylan high and dry for the second time this morning. Ok, so, maybe becoming Hackett’s Quarry Camp Counselor Summer BFFs is gonna take more work than he thought.
Dylan rises to his feet just as a voice suddenly sighs from behind. He turns to see Kaitlyn, one of the counselors he meshed with pretty well during their icebreaker round.
“What’s up?” Dylan asks.
“Is he dreamy or what?” She smiles conspiratorially.
“Mr. H?”
“No!” Kaitlyn laughs, “Tall, dark, and handsome over there.” She nods her head towards Ryan’s retreating frame.
“Oh, Ryan?” Dylan feels his stomach do a weird clenching thing. “I mean, I guess some people could maybe say that.”
“People with fully functioning eyes, you mean?”
“Sure.”
“I dunno,” Kaitlyn muses, “He’s nice and all, but he didn’t seem super into me when we talked.”
“You should go for it,” Dylan says automatically, ignoring the way the stomach thing happens again as he says it, “Maybe he was just nervous or something.”
“We’ll see,” she shrugs, “Anyways, it looks like Jacob’s already monopolized the summer romance department.”
“Yo, Emma!” Jacob’s saying as Dylan and Kaitlyn turn to look at him, “Check this out!”
Emma stops mid-conversation with Abi to watch as Jacob does a backflip and sticks the landing, only to trip over a stray branch moments later and fall on his ass.
“Great form!” Nick cheers as Emma and Abi laugh and walk off together.
“Yeah, that can only end well,” Dylan snorts, turning back towards Kaitlyn.
“All’s well that does!” Kaitlyn replies merrily, motioning for Dylan to walk with her as they begin to follow the others. She leans in closer with a teasing whisper, “C’mon, maybe we can sit next to Ryan at lunch!”
Dylan glances further ahead to see Ryan and Mr. H leading the group, Ryan listening attentively to whatever Mr. H is telling him. The sun is still shining on him, and Dylan can catch another glimpse of a smile as Mr. H tells what has to be a pretty decent joke.
It’s gonna be a long summer.