This was the worst idea ever.

Scrubbing dried toothpaste off Janson's desk and walls, sorting papers, placing them in the right folders, and cleaning up all the toilet paper is horrible.

I look at Minho, who's just sitting on the desk I just cleaned. "Are you gonna help?"

"Unfortunately, I've managed to get comfortable, so no."

I say the first thing that comes to mind. "Lyndon said you said you'd do anything for women. Letting them clean for you isn't exactly doing anything for them, is it?"

"Hm." He tilts his head to the side, eyes on me. "Fine. What do I do?"

"Clean the toilet paper."

With a sigh, he gets to work and starts picking every single small piece up, putting them in a plastic bag. "Say something before this gets too awkward."

"Like what?"

"Anything."

"I don't know. Continue working," I tell him. "The faster we do this, the faster we're freed from this ratty office."

"The more we talk, the more fun it will be," he shoots back. "Okay, tell me... favorite movie?"

"As if you don't know, idiot."

"Monsters, Inc?"

"Duh. I'm still going to force you to watch it."

"So basically you're saying you want to get high in the hut we built a few summers ago again, and then cuddle again."

I palm my face. "See? You're delusional. That wasn't even a little bit related to those mistakes."

Minho rolls his eyes. "Fine. Not gonna ask what my favorite movie is?"

"No."

"Alright. Your favorite series?"

"Not sure." 

He throws his hands into the air. "You're not helping with making this less boring!"

"Just work!"

I start mopping the floor, because Janson also told us to do that. This one chore has turned into a way bigger project, but alright.

"You're really gonna do that?"

"Hey, if we do one thing wrong, we end up in that shack, and I really don't feel like that," I snap.

"Since when do we obey to Janson?"

I ignore him and continue doing the job. Tonight, Lyndon and I planned to finally video call Dad and Amina. I don't want to miss it, or make him do it alone. And I don't want to leave him alone with that Noelle, even though Newt doesn't seem to be afraid to put her on her place. 

Deeper in thoughts, I move towards the desk so I can mop below it—

I knock the bowl of hot water over. A loud thud draws Minho's attention to it.

I hiss at the heat of it all over my leg, but the worst thing is that I slip when I try to step away, and fall right onto the desk with my stomach.

"You okay?" I sense him stepping closer.

"Yeah." I groan. "Just lemme—"

Just as I turn around—still half on the desk—, he takes my waist in an attempt to pull me off the object.

That mixed with the force I turned around with causes our torsos to collide, and I slip another time. My hands are clenched around him to stop me from falling, but he loses balance on the wet floor and falls along with me, but of us now half on the desk.

Awesome.

I feel his breath in my neck, tickling. His hands are still on my waist. As they save me from falling onto the ground, they do also press me against the desk harder, so my hips are pushing against the edge.

"Shit." He moves away after what feels like a century, but also a second. It almost feels empty when his breaths are no longer hitting my skin, although he's still very close to my face, and his hands are still on my waist. Mine are still around his neck. I'm too surprised to move.

And then the door opens, and Janson rushes in. He must've heard the bucket falling.

We both freeze.

(As if we hadn't before.)

"Minho!" He yelps. "Lelia! I said not to—"

I let go of him as fast as I can. "We weren't—"

Minho steps away from me. "We didn't—"

"You were," he spits out. "When I said kids messed in my office, I didn't mean for you two to do it too. And why is all that water on the floor? Didn't I say—"

"Janson—sir—I swear, don't put us—"

"In the Shack," he decides before I can even finish that sentence. "Both of you. Lee, this was my final straw after all those years. And you, Blake, you're lucky I didn't send you to the Shack after the bag control."

"I have nothing illegal in my bag!"

Not anymore, after Minho and I used it.

"Janson, come on!" Minho pleads. "The Shack is itchy, cold, full of mosquitos, and smelly. Child abuse!"

"Punishment," the man corrects. "You're both going in there."

"No," Minho states.

"If you continue, Lee, that will be two nights."

He crosses his arms. "I'm not going. Not with her."

"Oh, really? Messing with her, but not happy when I spare you a little bit by putting you in the Shack together? Ungrateful piece of—"

"It's not going to help!" Minho almost raises his voice. It gets higher, at least. "You know that the bed is itchy and squeaky too. And if you're so suspicious of us, how dumb are you to lock us in a hut with one bed? One that's barely stable!"

All I can do is stare and listen.

Janson's face falls when he realizes Minho has a point. But Janson is the kind of person to never admit that he's wrong, even when he knows he's wrong. "I tell you to go to the Shack, so you will."

He grabs both of our arms, as both of us also protest, and starts dragging us outside, until we pass Barkley, one of the camp instructors, who's also dragging two people.

Surprisingly, Lyndon.

No way.

No fucking way that Lyndon managed to get himself into trouble.

Then I look at the other person; Noelle.

Okay, now there is a possibility that he got himself into trouble.

Or rather, she got him into trouble.

My jaw tightens at the thought.

"These two can go to the Shack," Barkley tells Janson.

Janson's grip around our arms gets stronger, and I groan under my breath.

"Loosen it up," Minho requests the man before he can speak to Barkley. "You're hurting her."

My stomach explodes with butterflies that I don't want there to be, yet I pretend it's nothing.

He does loosen in his grip. "These two, too. There isn't much space in the Shack for four, Barkley. What did they do?"

"Girl said he was being mean to her. Besides that, he knocked a glass over and dropped a plate on the ground."

"I—" Lyndon tries to say, but he gets ignored. My blood somewhat starts bowling at the way Noelle is grinning and Lyndon looks so... I don't even know. There's so many emotions. Sadness, disappointment, guilt, fear.

"And then she started yelling hysterically, disturbing Mary and everyone around," Barkley finishes.

Janson nods. "I know that one," he points at Lyndon, "won't end up in a real fight with anyone, so it wouldn't be a problem to send them both into the Shack. Might as well solve things."

"No," I speak up. "Let Lyndon do some chores as a punishment instead of going into the Shack with Noelle—"

"Don't speak against us, Blake."

"At least let her speak!" Minho bites out. "She's right. Lyndon wouldn't do any of that? Are you sure got the right one?"

"Yeah. And why is dropping a plate and knocking a glass over punishable? Being a bit mean, come on!" I add.

Janson shushes so Barkley can speak. "You two weren't there to know." He turns to Janson. "What did they do?"

There's a quick summary of what we were apparently doing, and Barkley is thoughtful for a while.

"If they end up making out even more in the Shack, it's no good," Barkley says. "These two can make it up." He looks at Lyndon and Noelle. "How about this? These two go in there first. One night if everything goes well. And then those two." He motions at us.

Janson considers it for just a few seconds, then agrees. "Good idea. Send them straight into there."

"Got it."

"He didn't do anything!" I try to protest again. "Lyndon wouldn't! Noelle was probably just annoying him and making him lose his temper! And he has shaky hands, so it's not his fault if he drops a plate! Knocking a glass over can happen to anyone! He—"

"You really want to spend two nights in the Shack?" Janson tightens his grip on my arm again. "It's not going to work, no matter what you say. We have strict rules."