Chapter 22

There’s something dangerously fun about liking someone at camp.

Because you’re never actually alone.

There are always campers, staff, schedules, whistles, noise—eyes everywhere.

So when you do get a moment?

It feels stolen.

It starts small.

It always does.

The next morning, everything feels… different.

Not awkward.

Not exactly.

Just… charged.

Like there’s something sitting between us now that wasn’t there before—and neither of us is pretending it isn’t.

“Okay, Bronze Meds—line up!” I call, clapping my hands, trying to sound like I have my life together.

I don’t.

Not when Quinn is leaning against the dock post behind me, watching.

Not subtly either.

Fully watching.

“You’re staring,” I mutter under my breath as I walk past her.

“I’m supervising,” she replies.

I stop.

Turn.

She’s smirking.

“…You’re supervising me?”

“…Someone has to,” she shrugs. “…You’re a liability.”

I scoff. “…I’m literally the most qualified person here.”

She leans closer as I pass again, voice low. “…Debatable.”

Her fingers brush my wrist.

Quick.

Intentional.

Gone before anyone could notice.

My brain short-circuits.

The whole morning is like that.

Tiny touches.

Quick comments.

Just enough to drive me insane.

At one point, I’m demonstrating a rescue hold in the water when Quinn calls out from the dock—

“Careful, Kennedy! Don’t drown your victim!”

“I’m saving them!” I shout back.

“Looks aggressive!”

I glare at her.

She grins.

Campers laugh.

And somehow, even in front of thirty teenagers, it feels like it’s just us.

But then—

Reality hits again.

Olivia shows up at the waterfront.

Drops her bag near Quinn.

Leans against the same post.

Starts talking.

Again.

And I feel it.

That stupid, annoying twist in my chest.

Even after last night.

Even after everything.

Quinn glances at me.

Just once.

Like she’s checking.

Like she knows.

And instead of moving away from Olivia—

She stays.

I mess up a demonstration.

Actually mess up.

“Uh—okay—reset—everyone out of the water—”

One of the campers giggles.

I laugh it off, but inside?

I’m spiralling.

After the period ends, I storm up the dock.

“…You’re doing that on purpose,” I mutter as I pass Quinn.

She blinks. “…Doing what?”

“Don’t act dumb.”

She grins. “…I’m not acting.”

I glare. “…You were with Olivia again.”

“…Yeah?”

“…Yeah.”

She tilts her head, watching me.

Then—

“…You’re jealous.”

It’s not a question.

I cross my arms. “…No, I’m not.”

She steps closer.

Close enough that no one else would notice—but I do.

“…You are,” she says softly. “…And it’s kind of cute.”

“…Don’t call me cute,” I snap.

She smiles wider.

“…Okay. It’s really cute.”

I shove her shoulder.

She doesn’t move.

Then—

very quietly—

“…I told you I like when you care.”

That shuts me up.

Immediately.

But before I can respond—

“QUINN!”

Kallie’s voice from across the field.

“WE NEED YOU FOR CANOE CHECKS!”

Quinn sighs dramatically.

“…Duty calls.”

She looks back at me.

“…Don’t go drowning anyone while I’m gone.”

“…Don’t go flirting with Olivia,” I shoot back.

She pauses.

Smirk.

“…No promises.”

And then she’s gone.

I hate her.

A little.

The rest of the day is chaos.

Archery mishaps.

A camper crying because her friendship bracelet broke.

A full-on argument over who cheated in capture the flag.

Normal camp things.

But underneath it all—

I’m distracted.

Because every time I see Quinn—

She’s somewhere else.

Laughing.

Talking.

Moving.

And not with me.

By evening, I’m irritated.

Actually irritated.

Not playful.

Not teasing.

Just… off.

“Okay, what is your problem?” Annabelle finally asks as we walk to dinner.

“I don’t have a problem.”

“You’re stomping.”

“I’m walking.”

“You’re aggressively walking.”

“…Shut up.”

Dinner is loud.

Messy.

Too many people.

And somehow, Quinn ends up across the table.

Not next to me.

Across.

Talking to Olivia.

Again.

I last ten minutes.

Then I get up.

“…I need air,” I mutter.

Annabelle raises an eyebrow.

“…Uh-huh.”

The lake is quiet at night.

Way quieter than it should be.

I walk down to the dock, arms crossed, kicking off my shoes.

The wood is still warm from the day.

The water is calm.

Peaceful.

“Running away?”

I don’t even turn around.

“…I’m not running.”

Footsteps behind me.

“…You kind of are.”

Quinn again.

Of course.

I sigh. “…What do you want?”

She steps beside me.

Close.

Not touching.

“…You’ve been weird all day.”

“…You said that yesterday.”

“…Yeah. Because it’s still true.”

I finally look at her.

“…You’re annoying.”

She grins. “…You like it.”

“…Not right now.”

That makes her pause.

Just slightly.

“…Okay,” she says, softer. “…Then talk to me.”

I hesitate.

Because I could brush it off.

Make a joke.

Move on.

But I don’t.

“…You’re confusing,” I say.

She blinks. “…Me?”

“…Yes, you.”

“…How?”

I gesture vaguely. “…One second you’re telling me you like me, and the next you’re—” I stop.

“…What?”

“…With other people.”

She stares at me for a second.

Then—

she laughs.

Not mean.

Not mocking.

Just… surprised.

“…Kennedy,” she says, stepping closer, “…I’m allowed to talk to other people.”

“I know that.”

“…Then what’s the issue?”

I exhale. “…I don’t know. I just—” I shake my head. “…I don’t like it.”

Silence.

Then—

“…You want me to only pay attention to you?”

Her voice is quieter now.

Different.

I hesitate.

“…Maybe.”

That does something.

I see it.

The shift.

Quinn steps closer.

Closer than before.

Now we’re—

really close.

“…That’s dangerous,” she murmurs.

“…Why?”

“…Because I might actually do it.”

My breath catches.

She reaches out.

Slowly.

Brushing her fingers against my wrist again.

This time—

she doesn’t pull away.

“…You have to meet me halfway though,” she says softly.

“…What does that mean?”

“…It means,” she steps even closer, voice low, “…you don’t get to run every time this gets real.”

I swallow.

“…I’m not running.”

“…You left dinner.”

“…I needed air.”

“…You needed space.”

“…From you.”

That lands.

Heavy.

But instead of pulling away—

she leans in.

Just slightly.

“…You don’t need space from me,” she says quietly.

“…You’re very sure of yourself.”

“…I’m very sure about you.”

And that—

that does it.

We’re close.

Too close.

Her hand still lightly holding my wrist.

My heart pounding so loud I’m convinced she can hear it.

“…Quinn,” I whisper.

“…Yeah?”

“…If you keep standing this close—”

“…What?”

I look at her lips.

Then back at her eyes.

“…Something’s going to happen.”

She smile.

Slow.

Dangerous.

“…Maybe I want that.”

She leans in.

Just a little more.

Breath warm.

Everything quiet.

The lake.

The camp.

The world.

And then—

voices.

Laughter.

Footsteps.

We jump apart.

Fast.

Too fast.

Kallie’s voice echoes down the path.

“IF ANYONE’S DOWN HERE—WE’RE STARTING NIGHT GAME—”

Quinn exhales.

Laughs under her breath.

“…We have the worst timing.”

I nod, heart still racing. “…Literally the worst.”

She looks at me again.

Softer this time.

Less teasing.

More real.

“…We’re not done,” she says.

Not a question.

“…I know,” I reply.

And as we walk back toward camp—

not touching—

but close enough—

I realize something.

This isn’t just flirting anymore.

This isn’t just tension.

This is inevitable.