Chapter 25

By the time Saturday rolls around, it’s already out.

Not officially.

No one says it straight to my face.

But I can feel it.

Staff don’t look at you the same when they know something.

Or think they do.

“…So,” Emily says casually at breakfast, way too casually, “…you and Quinn are just… hanging out a lot lately.”

I don’t look up. “…We work together.”

“Mhm.”

Annabelle snorts into her cereal.

Traitor.

“…What?” I say.

Emily shrugs. “…Nothing. Just interesting.”

“…What’s interesting is how invested you are in my life.”

“…What’s interesting,” Annabelle cuts in, “is how Quinn has not shut up about you for two days.”

I freeze.

“…She has not.”

“…Oh my god,” Emily laughs. “…You didn’t know?”

My stomach flips.

“…What do you mean?”

Annabelle leans in, grinning. “…Every staff convo somehow ends up back to you. It’s actually embarrassing.”

That—

I was not ready for that.

“…Shut up,” I mutter, but there’s no heat behind it.

Across the dining hall—

Quinn’s laughing at something Kallie said.

Head thrown back.

Completely relaxed.

Like she’s not actively ruining my ability to function.

She glances over.

Catches me looking.

Smirks.

Yeah.

She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Saturday = beach party.

Big one.

All-camp.

Music, games, swimming.

Which means:

No hiding.

By the time the sun starts dropping, the whole beach is packed.

Campers everywhere, music blasting, staff trying to pretend we’re in control.

We’re not.

I’m near the waterline with my cabin, helping set up for relay games, when Annabelle elbows me.

“…Incoming.”

I don’t need to ask.

Quinn.

Walking down from the staff side.

Board shorts, loose tank, hair messy from the lake, sunglasses pushed up.

Looking—

I actually look away.

Immediately.

“…You’re so obvious,” Annabelle mutters.

“…I hate you.”

“…No you don’t.”

Quinn walks straight up to us.

No hesitation.

“…You’re avoiding me,” She says.

No hello.

No buildup.

“…I’m working,” I reply.

She glances at my campers.

Then back at me.

“…You’ve been ‘working’ all day.”

Annabelle makes a noise and immediately backs away.

Coward.

“…Maybe I like working,” I say.

“…You don’t.”

“…You don’t know that.”

She steps closer.

Lowers her voice.

“…I do.”

And there it is again.

That shift.

Before I can respond—

“KENNEDY!”

One of my campers.

“…We need you!”

I exhale sharply. “Thats me.”

Quinn smirks. “…Yeah. Go save the world.”

I brush past her.

Our shoulders hit.

Not accidental.

She doesn’t move.

I feel it for the next ten minutes.

Games start.

Relay races, water challenges, full chaos.

I’m sprinting across sand, yelling instructions, laughing with my campers.

It should be easy to focus.

It’s not.

Because every time I look up—

Quinn’s there.

Somewhere.

Watching.

At one point, I wipe out mid-run—full faceplant into the sand.

Campers lose it.

“…Graceful!” Quinn calls from across the beach.

I flip her off without even thinking.

She grins.

Later, during a water relay, I end up waist-deep in the lake, trying to organize teams.

Quinn wades in beside me.

“…You good?” she asks.

“…Fantastic,” I say. “…Just thriving.”

She glances at the campers.

Then back at me.

“…You’re still avoiding me.”

“…I’m literally standing next to you.”

“…Yeah, and you haven’t looked at me properly once.”

That’s—

annoyingly accurate.

I finally look at her.

“…Happy?”

She holds my gaze.

Too long.

“…Getting there.”

A camper splashes water at us.

Breaks it.

But not really.

Night hits.

Bonfire.

Music louder now.

Campers dancing, staff a little looser.

This is where things get messy.

I’m standing with Emily and Caitlyn when Tanner shows up again.

“…Hey,” he says, easy smile. “…You survived the relay.”

“…Barely,” I laugh.

“…You still owe me that boat ride.”

I hesitate.

And then—

“She’s not interested.”

Quinn.

Behind me.

I close my eyes.

“…Quinn.”

Tanner looks between us. “…I didn’t ask you.”

Quinn steps closer.

Too close.

“…I answered anyway.”

“…Why?” Tanner asks.

Quinn shrugs.

“…Because I felt like it.”

This is bad.

“…Okay,” I cut in quickly. “…This is getting weird—”

“…Is it?” Quinn says.

I turn to her.

“…Yes.”

She looks at me.

Not playful.

Not joking.

“…Then tell him you’re interested.”

Oh.

That’s what this is.

“…I—” I stop.

Because I’m not.

And she knows it.

“…Right,” Quinn says quietly.

Tanner raises his hands. “Alright, I’m out. Good luck with… whatever this is.”

He leaves.

Silence.

“…What was that?” I ask.

“…You tell me.”

“…You’re the one who jumped in.”

“…Yeah,” she snaps. “…Because he won’t stop.”

“…That’s not your problem.”

“…It is when it involves you.”

There it is again.

That line.

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

She laughs once.

Short.

Frustrated.

“…You think I don’t know that?”

“…Then why are you acting like this?”

She steps closer.

Voice low.

“…Because I don’t like the idea of you with someone else.”

My chest tightens.

“Then say that.”

“…I just did.”

“…No,” I shake my head. “You deflected. Again.”

A beat.

“…What do you want from me?” she ask.

That question hits harder than it should.

“I want you to stop acting like this doesn’t matter,” I say.

She stares at me.

“…It does matter.”

“…Then act like it.”

Silence stretches.

The fire crackles behind us.

Music thumps.

People everywhere.

And somehow—

it feels like it’s just us again.

“…You want this to be something?” she asks.

“…I think it already is.”

That lands.

She runs a hand through her hair.

Frustrated.

Thinking.

“…This place makes everything messy,” she says.

“…Then don’t make it messier.”

She looks at me.

“…You’re not making this easy.”

“…Good,” I say. “…I don’t want easy.”

A pause.

Then—

she grabs my wrist.

Not hard.

But firm.

“Walk with me.”

“…Quinn—”

“Just walk.”

And this time—

I don’t argue.

We don’t go far.

Just past the firelight.

Away from the crowd.

Not hidden.

But not watched.

She lets go of my wrist.

Then immediately runs a hand over her face.

“…You drive me insane,” she says.

“…You’ve mentioned.”

“…No, like—actually.”

“…Good.”

She looks at me.

Something shifts.

Again.

“…I don’t want you with anyone else,” she says.

There it is.

Clean.

No deflection.

“…Then what do you want?” I ask.

She steps closer.

Close enough that I can feel it again.

That pull.

“…You,” she says.

Simple.

Direct.

My breath catches.

“…Then act like it,” I repeat.

A beat.

Then—

she does.

Her hand slides to my waist.

Pulls me in.

Not slow.

Not hesitant.

And then she kisses me.

Harder than before.

More sure.

Less testing.

I grab her shirt without thinking.

Pulling her closer.

Noise fades.

Fire disappears.

Everything else drops out.

It’s not soft.

It’s not gentle.

It’s—

real.

When we pull back, it’s quick.

Like we both know we pushed it too far in public.

“…We’re going to get caught,” I mutter.

“…Probably,” she says.

Neither of us moves.

“…Worth it?” she asks.

I look at her.

Really look.

“…Yeah.”

She smirks slightly.

“Good.”

And when we walk back toward the fire—

still not touching—

but very obviously not nothing anymore—

I can feel it.

Everyone knows now.

And this?

This is where it gets complicated.