I'm 50 inches away from Luke Dawson. From all the hotness dripping off of him, what are the chances some of it will rub off on me?

He's a Michelangelo painting come to life. A temptation in male form to abandon morality and make sin a virtue. If I sound dramatic, it's because I am. I've just been dumped.

"There's been a mistake," Luke said, pointblank. "That can't be my roommate."

"She."

He gave me an irritated glance, "What?"

"I'm a she not a that," I explained.

He ignored me and focused back on Khloe, who was rummaging through a lot of random papers behind the greeter's desk.

"I'm so sorry Luke, I don't understand what happened. We thought you were related."

"This has to be a joke," he said, looking around the room as if there were hidden cameras.

Khloe now had tears in her eyes, "I didn't mean for you to be living with a rando like this. Especially that one. I'll get my boss to fix this."

She ran into the backroom and came out seconds later with Mr Woodhouse, the Camp Director. His sunglasses were perched on his cap and he was eating a Cliff bar. He was the woodsy type for sure.

"Luke!" Mr Woodhouse exclaimed, "Our national basketball champion! We're thrilled you agreed to this. You're raising the bar on our athletic capabilities by just being here."

Luke folded his muscular arms across his chest and nodded in my direction, "Why am I rooming with her?"

He does not beat around the bush.

"It's an honest mistake, son. We thought you two were siblings. You live in the same house."

"We don't."

"We live across the street from each other," I said.

"We do?"

"Yes Luke, we do," I mumbled, embarrassed that I was coming across as a creep.

Or a friendly neighbor. I mean, he should know this! I've lived across his house my whole life. He used to kick his soccer ball into our front yard all the time.

"You both have the same address. Look," Mr Woodhouse showed our applications.

My address was 4 Dupont Avenue and his was... 4 Dupont Avenue.

"You put my house as yours?" I asked him, shocked.

Was this, like, my claim to fame now?

I'm joking.

Sort of.

"No, that's my house," he disagreed, reading aloud, "9 Dupont Avenue."

"That's a nine?" Mr Woodhouse brought the page closer to his face, squinting.

I leant over his shoulder to re-read the address myself. His 9 was written like a 4.

"It's chicken scratch," I commented.

Khloe and Mr Woodhouse glared at me. I guess no one appreciates humor at Luke's expense. Jeez, is he sacred now? They probably capitalize His pronoun.

"So, you're not related," Mr Woodhouse contemplated the ramifications of our rooming situation, "Shit."

"We could trade places," Khloe eagerly jumped in, "I volunteer to share the cabin with Luke."

What a sacrifice.

"You're a female who's also not related to him," Mr Woodhouse pointed out how her solution solved none of the problems. "Luke, I could be in a lot of trouble for messing up your situation. You're the MVP here. Do you mind tolerating the girl for a few days until we figure something out? I'll reshuffle the cabins, so you can sleep in whichever one you like. In the meantime, you both have separate bedrooms within the cabin."

A yellow bus pulled up outside and we heard noises. Happy campers were squeezed inside, excited for their first day. Think Minions.

Luke was unwilling to deal with that right now.

"I'll give you three days to fix this," he growled, grabbing the keys from the desk, "Otherwise I'm out."

No one asked me if I was ok with this arrangement. My opinion didn't seem to matter.

Luke left. Mr Woodhouse returned to his office and Khloe took a couple deep meditative breaths to realign her chakra.

I get it. Luke can really mess up a girl's chakra.

**

Apple Cabin was a beautiful wooden cabin by a crystal blue lake. The interior was decorated with soft rugs and wooden furniture. I dropped my duffel bag in the kitchen area and found myself face-to-face with the devil himself.

"Us, related? What an insult."

One second in and he's already insulted me. Great start.

"Who even writes a nine like that?" I snapped back. It's his fault we're in this mess in the first place.

"I do."

"The top is so pointy and you've got the line coming out of the side. It looks like a four!"

"You know what else looks like a four?" Luke smirked.

Me. I was a four. Ha. Ha.

"You're so immature," I scowled.

His smirk widened.

I tried to ignore how flawless he looked. How his chiseled features were accentuated by his blue eyes and messy hair. How his presence took over a room, like he could belong anywhere. And here I was; a girl who fit in nowhere.

I stared down at my worn-out jeans and red t-shirt with white polka dots on it. I had to get out of here.

"I heard the campers arrive. I'll go collect our group," I said, backing out of the room and almost tripping over on my way out.

I got into my car and revved the engine. I put the old gal in reverse and was pulling out of the parking spot when someone banged the hood of my trunk.

"STOP!"

Luke appeared in my rearview window. But it was too late. I tried to stop but not before the tires rolled over-

CRACK

I screamed. I screamed like a maniac and was so spastic at taking my seatbelt off it took me three minutes. I slammed the car door open and when I made it to the back, Luke was already kneeling.

Of course, I wasn't registering who I was talking to or who I was dealing with. I literally ran up to him and dropped to my knees, falling against him. The force should have pushed him over, but he was strong and it didn't affect him. With one arm he kept me steady, not even looking at me.

"WHAT HAPPENED?! WHO'D I HIT?! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! WHAT HAVE I DONE?!"

I screamed. I was panting. I was practically hysterical.

"I'VE NEVER GOTTEN A TICKET IN MY LIFE! Once I almost ran over a raccoon in the driveway, but I swerved just in time and hit my mother's flower pot, but it was ok because I saved the raccoon! I CAN'T believe I DID this!" I screamed.

There were some other counselors and campers walking up the cobbled pathways to the neighboring cabins. They were all staring at us now. Literally everyone. I couldn't tell how embarrassed Luke was to be seen with me –since emotion barely crossed his face– but I'm sure it was off the charts.

I paused. I was breathing heavily. There was no body under the car so at least I wasn't a murderer. What a relief.

He waited for me to stop. Finally, he asked, "Are you done?"

His voice was smooth and seductive. It instantaneously calmed me and, looking at him now, I felt like I was being transported to heaven.

"I...glub gar fle... fle," I gave up trying to speak. He got me tongue-tied.

"You ran over my bag. I think you broke my laptop."

So, I may have overreacted. Just a little bit.

**

"I didn't mean to destroy your stuff," I said, "I'm a good driver I swear. I dodged a raccoon in my driveway once."

He covered his beautiful face with his hand, "How is that story even a story?"

"Well you had to be there; it was very dramatic at the time," I said, getting defensive about my story-telling.

"What's your name again?"

Crickets.

He shook his head, "Look, I don't care. Can you get back in your car so that I can get my bag and leave?"

Luke wasn't too keen on my company. That was already obvious when he tried to trade out of our rooming arrangement. Now, I became his biggest nuisance.

"I..."

I felt bad. But I got in my car and he grabbed his bag and left, just like he said he would. The mouse-side of me wanted to stay here and hide. And usually, mouse-side wins. But today of all days, a more aggressive version emerged. Let's call it tiger-side. Yes, I cringed at that too.

"Wait!"

I called out to him in the middle of our driveway, just as he reached the threshold of our cabin door. He stopped, confused.

I mustered up the courage and got out of the car. "You didn't let me say sorry. It was an accident."

He sighed, the powerful muscles in his shoulder moving as he adjusted the straps. "Look, I don't want to be here and we don't have to play nice. Just stay out of my way."

He opened the front door.

"Hey. HEY!" I was surprised by my resolve, "You don't get to say things like that and leave. I don't care who you are, I'm trying to apologize here! And I'll pay you back for anything I ruined."

He looked me up and down. "I doubt that."

"You insinuating I'm cheap? I swear I'm going to pay you back for every cent that I owe you. Even if you don't deserve it. I mean, who leaves their bag on the ground in the first place?! That was a stupid-"

"Is this an apology or an insult?"

"Can't it be both?"

"Doesn't work like that. You don't get to break my laptop and curse me out." He turned his back on me, pushing open the front door with a brush of his hand.

"You started it!" I yelled out. Way to be mature, Millie...

Yeah, I screwed up. But I was going to try my best to make up for it.

It was the right thing to do.

Even if he was a jerk.