Chapter 1

My roommate Zella stared at me with a stunned expression—mouth agape, eyebrows raised. She always had to do the most. “Wait, hold on, you got a job where?”

“Camp Fit, for Overweight Collegiate Athletes,” I replied, still a little shocked I’d been offered a position teaching a class on nutrition after only two interviews. The second man I interviewed with said that because I was so young, the college-aged campers might better relate to me.

“How you’ve already gotten a job in your field is beyond me. And here I was thinking you’d be at Coffee Connection for at least the summer.”

“Gee, Zells, thanks for the vote of confidence. I’m sure one day you’ll make an excellent mother.”

“I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, finally fixing her face. “This is a good thing. Are you excited?”

“I am beyond excited. The camp is owned by Play Hard Industries, and the camp director said there was a chance I’d get hired on for a full-time position if I was able to impress the founder.” She nodded, wanting to hear more about my amazing opportunity. “If I do a good job this summer, I could possibly become one of the nutritionists that they send to different universities to assist with struggling athletic teams.”

“Okay, so, that sounds nice, but what about our apartment?”

“Well, I was hoping you wouldn’t hate me if I sublet my room for the summer.” I gave an awkward smile, exaggerating it theatrically. I knew I was putting her in a difficult position.

“Rory, are you serious?”

“This job pays forty dollars an hour,” I started, “and if I get hired full-time, I’ll be put on salary with benefits.” She sighed and sat next to me on the couch. She knew something like this was unheard of nowadays for someone with only one degree.

“You just graduated and you’re already making moves. I knew you’d be trying to find a job, but I didn’t think I’d be losing you this soon.” Zella was a year older than me and would be starting the second year of her master’s program this fall. She worked part-time as a receptionist for the financial aid office. She had even been selected to teach a gen-ed English course this past semester, which she’d be teaching again come late August.

“We’re still besties,” I said, leaning against her, shoulder-to-shoulder.

“You better not stick me with a psycho.”

“Never!”

"Mm-hmm ."

“I will use the next two weeks before I leave finding you the perfect roommate,” I said, wrapping my arms around her. “That’s a promise.”

After that, we sat and talked about all the things I needed to do in order to get ready for my new position. Even though she was disappointed that I’d be leaving, she did a really great job of being encouraging. Zella was a great friend.

Over the next two weeks, I’d emptied out my bedroom, put my things in a storage facility, and turned my keys into the leasing office. I’d even managed to find a sweet girl to room with Zella. I really thought they’d get along well. Her name was Harmony, and she was also a grad student. They both loved yoga and Drag Race. They had screamed about season six being the best in the franchise for fifteen minutes the day I introduced them. I was like the world’s best roommate matchmaker. After one final sweep of the apartment, it was time for me to get going.

“No sex,” Zella said, giving me a big hug on my way out. “You know the people who have sex at these camps always die in those slasher movies. And you’re black. You know our kind don’t last long at sleepaway camps.”

“I’m going there to work, Zells, not to hook-up with anybody.”

“You can’t help yourself,” she said, laughing. “Remember Paul?” I did. “Kyle?” That was one time. “Jon?” He was ridiculously hot, who could resist?

“Okay, I get it,” I said. “But these guys are going to be much too focused on getting into better shape than to be thinking about having gay sex.” I tapped my pointer finger on my chin. “Oh, that’s right, these meatheads probably aren’t even gay. Problem solved.”

“Neither was Paul. Or Kyle. Or Jon. Or—”

“Okay, I get it,” I said, cutting her off. “No flirting with bi-curious college boys. Focus on securing the salary. Got it.”

“Now go get ‘em!” she exclaimed, smacking me on the ass. She gave me one final wave goodbye as I made my way to my car. I didn’t have to go far as it was parked right outside of our apartment complex. I sat behind the wheel of my beat-up Subaru Outback and took in my good fortune once again. I couldn’t believe this was really happening for me. This was an opportunity I was not going to let slip away from me. I’d get that salary! I’d get those benefits!

I drove the hour to Camp Fit blasting music and singing loudly. It was a smooth drive, and the site wasn’t hard to find. There were a ton of signs to make sure people knew where the camp was. I pulled into a gravel lot outside of what I assumed to be the main building. I went inside and was told by an older man, who let me know his name was Howard, that I was right on time for the start of staff orientation. I remembered him from that second interview. Howard led me to the great hall. It wasn’t actually all that great, but it was one of the only buildings on the whole property with air conditioning, so that was something to celebrate.

I was then introduced to the other staff members, the facilities manager, and the kitchen workers. I noticed I was the youngest member of staff by at least ten years, and even then, that was a stretch. I had already taken a drug test, been fingerprinted, and submitted all of my HR forms, so I mingled with everyone while we waited for things to get started.

After the opening session, I was informed that I’d have Sundays off so I could go into town if I liked or just hang around camp relaxing. I could also leave camp after lights out if I was so inclined, but that would be after nine-thirty and the closest town was twenty minutes away. I doubt I’d ever try to make that drive after dark.

“Okay everyone,” Howard said, passing out spiral-bound booklets to everyone. He reminded me of that one white trainer on The Biggest Loser. “In these portfolios you will find bios about all our residents this summer. Study up. It’s easier to bond with the boys if you have a sense of who they are.”

Once everyone received a portfolio, we were told to meet back in an hour for lunch. After that, orientation would continue. Until then, we could continue getting settled in and exploring the campgrounds.

The camp was pretty small and only had enough spaces for a little over thirty guys. There were seven cabins for residents and three more for counselors and camp workers. Each cabin was named after a “healthy lifestyle” virtue. I went into the staff cabin I was assigned, Cabin Service, and put my bags on the bed farthest from the door. If a masked killer came a knocking, I wanted to be able to plan an escape before I was hacked up.

Inside my portfolio there was a Play Hard Industries nutritional guide, authored by Howard and some woman I didn’t know. I would have to follow this guide when designing meal plans for the athletes post-camp. I put that aside, much more interested in the men. I flipped through the portfolio slowly, taking in each of their faces, stats, and cabin assignments. In the back of my mind, Zella’s word’s echoed continuously.

No sex. No. Sex. No sex-x-x-x.

Though these guys were not the usual type I went for, they were all incredibly attractive. I was transfixed by their bodies in their singlets, shorts, and speedos. I hadn’t even met any of these guys, yet I could picture myself giving and receiving pleasure from each and every one of them. I kind of started feeling weird about playing a role in them altering their physiques.

Oh man, okay.

There would be no more moral dilemmas. There would be no more drooling over beefcakes. I needed to remain professional. There was absolutely no room for error in my quest to secure a salary.

Colleges really shelled out top dollar to photograph these guys like they were actually in the big leagues. It put into perspective how lucrative collegiate athletics were to these universities. I also noticed that all the athletes that would be in attendance this summer were from colleges within four hours of the camp. I came to the section in the portfolio that laid out the men in Cabin Self-Discipline. As I continued my reading, Howard entered the cabin. I turned the portfolio on its face, placing it on the mattress next to me.

“Listen, kid, you’re going to have to stay in a cabin with some of the athletes.”

“Whoa, Howard, I’m the nutritionist. I can’t stay with attendees.” He gave me a stern look. This look said, You’re being paid nearly two grand a week to teach a couple of sessions on nutrition, so you’re going to do what is asked of you.

“You’re in their age range. One employee cabin is all female, so I can’t ask any of them,” he explained, even though it didn’t seem like he wanted to. “The rest of us have seniority. It’ll probably be more fun for you anyway, not having to be around us boring old folk.” They weren’t old-old, so this line of reasoning wasn’t his strongest, but his comment about seniority I couldn’t question.

“So this is for the entire duration of the program?” I asked, looking up at him from what was no longer my bed.

“Bingo,” he confirmed. “Cabin Self-Discipline is now your home away from home.” He turned quickly and walked out of the cabin, the screen door slamming shut behind him. End of discussion.

I picked up the portfolio and resumed my deep-dive on the guys in Cabin Self-Discipline. I perused the information carefully, taking in their stats and images like some sort of sports enthusiast.

Colin Kennedy
- Football, Defensive Lineman
- 6 ft 1 in, 300 Pounds

Michael Young
- Basketball, Power Forward
- 6 ft 6 in, 285 Pounds

Colton Stevenson
- Wrestling, 184-lb Weight Class
- 5 ft 6 in, 199 Pounds

Fernando Aguilera
- Baseball, Catcher
- 5 ft 11 in, 225 Pounds

I noticed something interesting. There was an unexpected connection we all shared. All of the guys in Cabin Self-Discipline were currently enrolled at my alma mater. I hadn’t considered that I might run into someone from where I went to college. Though I may not have recalled seeing any of them around campus, I knew one thing for certain after looking at their pics and bios. They were all smoking hot. Fuck.