Chapter 7

A black Jeep Wrangler was parked in our driveway, next to my old, worn-out car. Zenon walked over to it, unlocking the doors with a quick flash of the headlights.

"Don't touch anything," he cautioned before I had even fully gotten into the passenger seat.

"I didn't ask to come with you," I retorted.

He ignored my comment, leaning his hand on the back of my headrest as he backed down the winding driveway. His musky scent filled the confined space, and the sunlight accentuated the warm hues of his sun-kissed skin. With one hand on the steering wheel, he drove smoothly.

"Zenon, this is a terrible idea. We can’t just skip camp. People will notice—"

"Can you relax?"

I fell silent, and he glanced at me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That was a genuine question. You’re always so tense."

"Because I don’t get second chances. This job is important to me. If I mess up, I’m out. Unlike you, no one is begging for me to be here. They’ll fire me without hesitation."

"I understand."

"Do you?"

"Yeah."

"So… does that mean we can turn around?"

"No."

I frowned, staring at my hands. "Please, can’t I do this favor another time?"

He chuckled softly.

"Stop laughing at me, I'm being serious. Look at my serious face. Look!"

He did look.

I must have looked ridiculous.

Zenon pulled the car over to the side of the road and stopped. I had no idea what he was about to do. He grabbed his phone and dialed a number, keeping his piercing blue eyes locked on me the whole time.

"Hey man, what's up?"

I was waving my hands frantically, mouthing "Let's go back!" This wasn't the time for a casual phone call; we were runaway camp counselors.

It sounded so lame when I put it that way.

He brushed my hands aside, still on the phone, "I'm getting distracted by an annoying wasp. Listen, can you do me a favor? Cover for..." he glanced at me.

"Candace. Turner." I repeated my name for what felt like the millionth time. My flailing arms stilled. Was he actually trying to help me?

"Cover for Candace Turner. No one needs to know she's not at camp. She'll be back tonight."

With that, he hung up and revved the engine. I stared at him, realizing this was probably just another day in the life of Zenon Albert. Everything seemed so effortless for him, no problems at all.

He sped up, driving fast along the highway. I rolled down the window, letting the wind whip through my hair.

"You call me an ungrateful j-e-r-k," he smirked, "but you don't say thank you either."

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Thank you for kidnapping me from summer camp."

"You're welcome, Candace."

He said my name.

My real name. I enjoyed how he pronounced it. Is that wrong?

I had no clue what this favor entailed, but we reached our destination. Zenon parked smoothly while I gazed around.

We were at the beach.

It was nearly a two-hour drive from our hometown but only forty minutes from camp—a place for cotton candy and surfing. Why on earth would Zenon bring me here?

What kind of favor could he possibly need done at the beach?

Exiting the vehicle, Zenon looked like he belonged in a beach photoshoot. Girls couldn’t help but stare as he walked by, his confidence and rugged good looks drawing them in. They were naturally attracted to him.

Zenon turned back, sunlight reflecting off his jet-black hair. "You coming?"

Yes, me. Zenon was calling out to me.

I felt like his complete opposite. When Zenon was made, nature balanced itself by creating someone less attractive. Not looking for sympathy here; just stating what others have observed. Some people don’t become dazzling beauties, no matter how much effort is put into transforming them.

Joining him, we walked onto the beach together. I must have seemed like an uncool sidekick. He deserved someone glamorous, like an Angelina Jolie type. As for me, Hollywood doesn’t even have characters that resemble who I am.

He moved gracefully across the sand, while I struggled with the grains filling my shoes.

"Can you speed up?"

"I’m trying."

"You walk like a penguin."

"If you’d told me where we were heading, I’d have dressed more appropriately," I complained.

"Your fashion sense seems permanently lacking."

"Watch it. Remember, I’m doing you a favor."

"Oh right. So grateful you broke my laptop."

"You left it in the driveway."

It dawned on me that Zenon and I were standing face-to-face, his breath carrying a hint of mint filling my senses. The discomfort from the sand inside my shoes faded away, replaced by an inexplicable feeling as if I was being drawn into his oceanic blue eyes, which seamlessly melded with the sea behind him.

"Yo Albert!"

Zenon leaped back from me as if he had been scorched. Turning around, I spotted a striking figure striding out of the waves, reminiscent of a scene from Baywatch. With a shake of his head, droplets flew from his hair, revealing a physique marked by well-defined abs.

Excuse me while I admire the view.

"Axel," Zenon acknowledged the newcomer, "my brother."

"You two don't look alike at all," I observed.

Axel let out a charming laugh. "It's just a figure of speech; we're not actually brothers. Quite the witty one you've got here, Zenon. Where did you find her?"

"Not really her type, is she?"

"I'm definitely not his either," I chimed in.

He offered his hand politely, "Axel Thomas. Pleasure to meet you."

A boy with manners—how novel.

"Candace. Likewise."

His handshake was robust and confident.

"Candace is lending us a hand with the matter." Zenon draped an arm casually over Axel’s shoulder, appearing more at ease than I'd ever seen him at camp.

"Does she have what it takes to see it through?"

"She's our sole option. Believe me, I would've chosen anyone else if possible."

And there it is—the jerk rearing its ugly head. They strolled off, reminiscing and sharing stories beyond my earshot. Attempting to catch up, the burning sensation from the sand in my shoes slowed me down.

I remained clueless about the favor Zenon wanted from me. There I was, on the beach with two attractive boys, about to undertake 'a thing'—which sounded suspiciously shady—that could reduce the hefty debt I owed Zenon for his computer by $50...

Any thoughts?

Nothing? Zilch?

Sighing, I managed to catch up with them just as they entered a seaside eatery, The Surfside Shack.