Free As I Am by AnnaLisa Grant Page B

bad picture, and he was right: when he holds those ropes, his biceps turn into boulders. He is, without question, the hottest guy here … which still makes me wonder why he wants to be with me. It would make much more sense for him to be with Addison. We only chatted for a minute because he was holding the ropes for one of the new guys who was learning the wall, and as much as I wanted to hang out with him, I made myself move along.
    I near the edge of the water and see that Addy and the other lifeguards are out in the lake with one of the lead counselors. With the camera to my eye, I zoom in and see that he’s going over water safety and rescue and Addy is playing the part of model student. She’s gone through this training so much that his tutorial is kind of a waste of Addy’s time. She’s been a lifeguard every summer since we were fifteen and Addy could teach this class with her eyes closed. I take a few shots, figuring it would be comforting to parents researching the camp to see the time and effort that’s taken to keep their youngsters safe and move along.
    Camera still to my face , I scan the lake to see if I can catch any wildlife on the water or across the lake. There are a few bubbles from fish in the water and I catch a bird soaring toward a cluster of trees, but nothing too spectacular. A canoe comes into view from the right and I can see that Mr. Webster is teaching someone the basics of boating. Webster is tall and broad, a bigger man than you’d think would be in charge of an activity like canoeing. But he’s freakishly graceful. I’ve seen him get in and out of a canoe with the fluidity of a ballerina.
    Miller is checking the buckles and safeties on the life jackets, and then restacking them in the storage closet. I’m a good distance away and don’t think he’s seen me yet so I start taking pictures of him. At first it’s because I think this would be encouraging to parents to know the care we take in ensuring their child’s safety. But after a few shots I zoom in closer. He’s wearing a tank and I can see more of his tattoos. I thought there were a lot on his arms, but those are just the tip of the iceberg. There are more worded tattoos on his shoulder and across his back peeking out from his shirt, and there’s a small picture of a girl’s face on the inside of his left arm. He’s reaching up to put more life jackets away so I zoom in on her even more, but he’s moving too much for me to get a clear shot.
    I wonder who she is. I’m so weird. I’m zoomed in, staring at the tattoos on this guy and crazy with curiosity about who this girl is. An ex-girlfriend? Sister? Maybe it’s a picture of his mom when she was young. That’s actually the better of the options. I mean, what girl doesn’t like a guy who has a healthy love and respect for his mother?
    I snap a few more shots and have to force myself to stop taking pictures of Miller and his mysterious tattoos. I want to be mad at him for misleading Cal last night but all I feel right now is intrigue.
    I’m already scrolling through and studying the pictures I just took when I sit and my butt hits the sand of the shore with a familiar thud. The designs on his arms are so intricate; it’s astonishing to think someone came up with it and then was able to translate it to a tattoo. I run my finger over the small screen of my SLR camera, tracing the pattern of one of Miller’s tattoos that’s dark and curves around like some tribal design.
    This is ridiculous. How am I so fascinated by this guy and his tattoos? It’s not like I’ve never seen tattoos before, but … I can’t take my eyes off of his.
    “You don’t have to stare. I told you that you could ask me about them,” Miller says in a tender tone, waking me from my tattoo-induced daze.
    “What?” I quickly push the button to scroll backward through the pictures. Gosh, I really did take a ton of pictures of him. It takes a dozen hits to get back to the pictures of Addy in