Chapter 24

If there’s one rule at camp, it’s this:

Everyone notices everything.

You think you’re subtle?

You’re not.

You think no one’s paying attention?

They are.

Which is exactly why this is a problem.

The second I step onto the dock the next morning, Annabelle looks up from tying a rope and just stares at me.

Not normal staring.

Knowing staring.

“…What?” I say immediately.

She doesn’t answer.

Just squints slightly.

“…Why do you look like that?”

“…Like what?”

“…Like you committed a crime and got away with it.”

I freeze for half a second too long.

Mistake.

Her eyes widen.

“…No way.”

“…Way what?”

“…You and Quinn.”

“…We’re coworkers,” I say way too fast.

She bursts out laughing.

“OH my god—you’re so bad at this!”

I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “…Lower your voice.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Annabelle.”

“DID YOU KISS HER—”

I clap a hand over her mouth.

“Shut. Up.”

Too late.

“Did who kiss who?”

Emily.

Of course.

Standing three feet away.

Smiling like this is the best thing that’s happened all week.

I drop my hand slowly.

“…Nothing happened.”

Annabelle muffles a laugh.

Emily crosses her arms.

“…You’re glowing.”

“I am not glowing.”

“You’re glowing.”

I hate them.

And then—

“…Morning.”

I don’t have to turn around.

I already know.

Quinn.

I do turn anyway.

Big mistake.

She looks—

normal.

Annoyingly normal.

Hair messy, hoodie half on, coffee in hand, like she didn’t absolutely wreck my ability to function twelve hours ago.

But then—

she look at me.

Really look.

And there’s that tiny shift.

That we know something no one else does look.

“…You good?” she asks casually.

I nod. “…Yeah.”

“…Cool.”

“…Cool.”

We stand there like idiots for a second.

Annabelle clears her throat.

Loudly.

“…Wow. You guys are super normal.”

Quinn smirks.

“…We try.”

I glare at them.

They look way too entertained.

Great.

Activity period one is worse.

Because now we have to function.

Like nothing happened.

While everything definitely happened.

I’m running Bronze Med again, but my brain is not here.

It’s stuck somewhere between her hand on my neck and that second kiss and the way she looked at me after.

“…Kennedy?”

One of the campers.

“…Yeah?”

“…You told me to go left.”

“…Did I?”

“…Yeah.”

“…I meant right.”

They stare at me.

“…Okay…”

I’m losing it.

From the dock—

“…Strong leadership,” Quinn calls out.

I don’t even look at her.

“…Shut up.”

She laughs.

Actually laughs.

And that—

that makes it worse.

Because now it feels normal again.

Too normal.

Until it’s not.

Halfway through the period, one of the male staff—Tanner—walks up beside me.

“Hey, Kennedy, you’re free after lunch?” he asks.

I blink. “…For what?”

“Was thinking we could take a boat out, just staff, chill for a bit.”

Before I can answer—

“…She’s busy.”

Quinn.

From the dock.

I turn.

“…Am I?”

She shrugs, not even looking at Tanner. “…Yeah.”

Tanner frowns slightly. “Pretty sure she can answer for herself.”

Oh.

Oh this is new.

I cross my arms. “…I can, actually.”

Quinn finally looks at him.

Then at me.

“…Okay. Go ahead.”

There’s something in her tone.

Not playful.

Not teasing.

Sharp.

I glance between them.

“…I—don’t know. I might have cabin stuff.”

Tanner shrugs. “Alright, let me know.”

He walks off.

Silence.

I turn back to Quinn.

“…What was that?”

She shrugs again. “…Nothing.”

“…You literally answered for me.”

“…You didn’t seem like you wanted to.”

“…That’s not the point.”

She finally steps closer.

Not too close.

But enough.

“…You were about to say yes,” she says.

“…So what if I was?”

Her jaw tightens slightly.

“…Then go.”

Oh.

“…You’re jealous,” I say.

She laughs once.

Short.

“…You wish.”

“Quinn.”

“…Kennedy.”

We stare at each other.

Same tension.

Different angle.

“…You don’t get to do that,” I say quietly.

“…Do what?”

“…Act like that and then pretend it’s nothing.”

She step closers.

Voice lower now.

“…I told you I don’t like people trying to touch what’s mine.”

My stomach flips.

Hard.

“…I’m not yours,” I say.

Not harsh.

Just… real.

She pauses.

Just for a second.

“…Didn’t say you were,” she replies.

But it lands anyway.

And suddenly—

it’s not light anymore.

The rest of the day is off.

Again.

But different this time.

Less teasing.

More… tension.

We don’t fall into our usual rhythm.

No easy touches.

No quiet jokes.

Just looks.

Too many looks.

By evening, it’s unbearable.

Campfire.

Staff scattered.

Campers loud.

I’m sitting with Annabelle and Emily, pretending to listen to some story, but I can feel it.

Across the fire.

Quinn.

Watching me.

“…Okay, this is painful,” Emily mutters.

“…What is?”

“…You two.”

“…We’re literally not doing anything.”

“…Exactly,” Annabelle says. “…That’s the problem.”

I exhale sharply.

“…I need air.”

Again.

The dock is quiet.

Same as last night.

I sit at the edge.

Feet in the water.

Trying to think.

Footsteps.

Of course.

“…We need to stop meeting like this.”

I don’t turn.

“…Then stop following me.”

She sit beside me anyway.

Closer than necessary.

“…You’re mad.”

“…No.”

“…You’re mad.”

“…I’m thinking.”

“…Dangerous.”

I let out a breath.

“…You don’t get to be territorial.”

She doesn’t answer right away.

“…I know,” she says finally.

That catches me off guard.

“…Then why were you acting like that?”

She rubs a hand over the back of her neck.

For once—

no smirk.

“…Because I didn’t like it,” she admits.

I glance at her.

“…Didn’t like what?”

“…Him,” she says simply.

A beat.

“…Okay,” I say slowly. “…That’s fair.”

She look at me.

“…Is it?”

“Yeah,” I shrug. “Because I didn’t like Olivia.”

That gets a reaction.

A real one.

“…You were serious about that.”

“Obviously.”

She huffs a quiet laugh.

“…So what are we doing?” I ask.

There it is.

She leans back on her hands.

Looks out at the water.

“…You want a label?”

“I want to know what this is.”

She glances at me.

“It’s us,” she says.

“That’s not helpful.”

“It’s not supposed to be,” she replies.

I roll my eyes. “…You’re the worst.”

“…Still here though.”

“Unfortunately.”

She grins slightly.

Then—

quieter—

“…I don’t want to mess this up.”

That hits.

Harder than anything else.

“…Then don’t,” I say.

She looks at me.

Really looks.

“…Stay,” she says.

“…I’m not going anywhere.”

And this time—

when our shoulders touch—

we don’t move away.

Not everything is figured out.

Not even close.

But it’s something.

Messy.

Unclear.

A little volatile.

And somehow—

that feels exactly right.