Free Stealing Third by Marta Brown

kid, is seriously starting to drive me up the wall with all the Emily
talk. I clench my fists, both annoyed and weirdly jealous thinking about him
and her together—which it shouldn’t—considering she’s way off limits to me
anyway. I mean, she’s a camper, and worse, the coach’s kid, but I can’t stop
myself from trying to get his goat.
    “Hot
like you’ll never know, dude.”
    “Oh,
burn,” someone says in the dark, drawing out snickers from the rest of the
cabin as I walk into my room shaking my head. Teenagers.
    I
stop mid step and freeze. Oh, shit.
    Teenagers.
Like the underage kind.
    My
mouth drops open as a pit forms in my gut at the unexpected thought. Is. It.
Possible?
    The
guy talk in the cabin becomes little more than background noise as I begin to
pace my tiny darkened room, my mind racing.
    No.
She can’t be. Right?
    My
heart picks up speed. I mean, she was at our party—on campus—and she said she
lived at Batterson Hall, the freshman dorm. I take a deep breath of relief. No.
There’s no way she’s still a teenager. Although…
    My
lungs constrict as the doubt sets in again. Did she lie? She certainly omitted
the truth about being Coach’s kid, so why wouldn’t she omit the truth about
still being in high school, too?
    A
feeling of dread hits me. So much for having to decide between going to the
minors or going to med school. I’ll be lucky to live if Coach catches wind of
me—and his underage daughter—rounding the bases, so to speak.
    I
wipe my clammy palms up and down the legs of my cargo shorts, causing the key
in my pocket to jab me in the thigh. I yank it out, and start to toss it on the
dresser next to my bed, but stop short.
    The
key to the office hangs off a long black corded loop and swings back and forth
in my hand, hypnotizing an idea out of me.
    No.
I can’t.
    I
throw the key down on the dresser and fall into bed, but as the noise in the
main cabin dies down and is replaced with a mixture of soft breathing and loud
snores the thought won’t stop running through my mind.
    Easy
in, easy out.
    I
mean, I was basically her treating physician last night, right?  And there’s
nothing wrong if I need to check her file for—you know—medical reasons.
    Like,
what in the hell her age is.
    I
hop out of bed and steady my breathing as I scoop up the key and tuck it back
into my pocket. Zipping on a hoodie to guard against the cool summer night, I
take quiet, but self-assured steps through the cabin and out the front door,
letting the screen close with a soft click behind me.
    I’m
not sneaking out, I’m just checking a patient’s file, I keep repeating in my
head like a mantra to keep my heart from beating out of my chest.
    The
camp is dark and quiet as I move through the trees and down the path to the
main building where I spent all of last night with Emily. It wasn’t quite as
amazing as the night before last with her, but a smile breaks across my face
thinking about it all the same.
    Laughing
under my breath, I shake my head, not sure if my favorite part was the three
different times she called me ‘Hottie Mchottieface’ when I woke her for the
hourly concussion check, or when she changed into my sweats and sweatshirt and
blushed when she caught me sneaking a peek.
    Stop.
Possible jailbait, remember?
    I
move more quickly to the office now, having to know the answer. I pull the key
from my pocket when a noise startles me from behind.
    Spinning
around, I expect to see one of the owners, but it’s not Gale or Walter. It’s
Emily.
    She’s
in a pair of short shorts, with her hair piled high on her head in a messy
ponytail, and she’s still wearing my sweatshirt, which hangs loose from her
tiny frame. And she looks amazing.
    Damn
it.
    “What
are you doing?” I ask, barely above a whisper, the key dangling in my hand.
    “Sneaking
out,” Emily says in her full voice, sauntering towards me, clearly not trying
to be stealthy.
    “Well,
you’re not doing a very good job at