Camp Velaris ~ Chapter two
Being sent to a summer camp full of rich kids to work as a councillor is the worst thing ever, according to Feyre. At least until she meets a certain violet eyed councillor and his friends.
The bonfire was everything I expected and everything I didn’t.
It was held in a field about a five minute walk away from the dorms and as I walked there with Mor, who was somehow not tripping in the near darkness while wearing heels, I could already smell the smoke and hear the crackling fire and the laughter of fellow employees. Instantly, I was took back to another bonfire I had attended several years ago and had met…
No. There was no dwelling on the past now. Not when we had arrived.
In the centre of the field, a huge bonfire blazed, orange flames dancing in the darkness of the night. People sat on logs around the fire, toasting marshmallows and nursing their drinks. A bottle of what looked like vodka was being passed around. The sound of laughter and shouts could probably be heard from a mile away. I wondered why Alis, or other senior member of staff, did nothing to stop it.
As if sensing my unanswered question, Mor said, “Alis doesn’t usually mind parties. If we only do it when the kids aren’t here and if none of us trashes the place, she doesn’t care.” Mor looked around for a second when her eyes landed on a log a few metres away from the cluster around the bonfire. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to my friends.”
Before I could protest, she had grabbed my hand and was tugging me along. Thankfully I was only wearing ankle boots. I had changed out of my ratty sweater and jeans into the most casual dress Mor had, who insisted on letting me borrow her clothes.
“Look who I bought!” Mor exclaims gleefully to the group of people sat on the log. Three very beautiful people. “This is Feyre, my new roommate. Feyre, this is Azriel, Cassian and Rhys.”
“Hi.” I said awkwardly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ears.
“Don’t let my good looks make you nervous, Feyre.” Said the one sporting a shit eating grin. “I’m more than just a pretty face.”
“Last time I checked Cassian, none of that is true.” Retorted the one in the middle, who had eyes so dark they looked purple.
The one on the far end of the bench simply just rolled his eyes at the antics of his friends, somehow showing both boredom and amusement at once.
“Don’t be a dick, Cassian. I swear, Azriel’s the only polite one out of the three of you.”
Cassian, I assume he’s the one with the longer hair, throws her a vulgar gesture while the other, Rhys, I presume, smirks a little. Azriel just smiles faintly, before turning his attentions back to the bonfire.
“Where’s Amren, anyway?” Mor asks, sitting down between Rhys and Cassian while grabbing a bottle of wine by Rhys’ feet and having a swig.
“You know she would never deign to show up at social event.” Rhys replies. He looks up at where I’m currently standing. “Are you going to sit down then, Feyre?”
“Oh! Um, yeah. Okay.” Fuck, I was terrible at this.
I sit down between Rhys and Azriel, the latter not seeming to notice as he continues sipping his drink as he stares at the bonfire.
“So, what brings you here?”
I turn to face Rhys, whose face is unnervingly handsome up close. Smooth tan skin, deep black hair and eyes that are indeed violet.
“Work experience. And a need for cash. You?” I reply, my hands twisting awkwardly in my lap.
“For fun, mostly. I loved coming here as a kid, so why not work here as well?”
He was Mor’s cousin, of course. I might have well been holding up a sign announcing that I’m poor.
“Do you know which group you’ll be leading?” Rhys asks, twisting around so he can see me fully.
“Not yet. I’ll probably find out tomorrow though.”
“You’re definitely in our team, though, if you’re sharing a room with Mor and Amren.”
“All the councillors are put into different teams. Or ‘courts’ as we call them.”
“And what court are you?”
Rhys leant in more, his violet eyes flashing in the darkness.
“The court of dreams.” He whispered.
The rest of the bonfire passes in a blur of lights and marshmallows. I talk with the group more comfortable than I ever had with my friends back home, especially Rhys. We kept of finding new things to talk about, even when I thought we had exhausted every topic. My hands accidently brushed against his and it was like every nerve in my body was electrified. I had quickly pulled my hand away, not wanting to look at Rhys’ face. I had hurriedly began a conversation with Mor, who I was pretty sure was on her third drink. I had only been sipping mine, not wanting to get drunk on my first day. I had only been drunk once before and in my fleeting memory of that night, I was not a pretty drunk.
One hour later, and I was ready to go back to the dorms. Mor, on the other hand, was not.
“The night is still young, Fey!” She enthusiastically told me when I announced I was walking back to my room.
“I’ll walk you.” Offered Rhys, standing up so that he was next to me.
Jesus, he was tall.
So Rhys and I left Mor, Cassian and Azriel to their drinks and started walking back to the dorms. Occasionally, a drunk employee would yell to us or try to start a conversation, but Rhys would just smile politely while edging away.
“So, what do think?” Rhys asks as we walk down the path to the courtyard.
“In general?” A nod. “It’s… a lot different than I was expecting. You know, from a summer camp.”
“Better or worse?”
“I’ve not decided yet.”
A pause, the only sound the distant laughter coming from the field behind us.
“I think I’ll grow to like it more. It is only my first day, after all.”
“Of course.” Was all he said.
We had finally reached to door to my room. I hovered, not really sure what to do next.
“Well, this is me. Goodnight.” I added lamely.
“Goodnight, Feyre darling.” Rhys practically purred.
And then he was walking away, to join back up with his friends or to go to bed.
And maybe it was the fact that I was slightly tipsy, or the fact that he was the first person I could talk so easily with since Tamlin, or, let’s be honest, the fact that he was extremely handsome, I found myself wanting to get to know him better and talk to him more.
Christ, Feyre, get a grip. You’re here for a job, not to be lusting over a person who wouldn’t look at you romantically if you were the last person on earth. Besides, if you’re crushing on him just because he talked to you, you need to get a grip. And you’ve known him for a few hours at most.
But I still couldn’t forget the flutter I’d felt when he had called me darling. Or when he-
This was going to be a long summer.