Chapter 34

Camp feels weirder now, after yesterday.

Me, Caitlyn, and Emily are sitting by my cabin.

“…So…” Caitlyn starts, her voice low. “…you and Quinn. Yesterday. Thoughts?”

I snort, trying to laugh it off. “…I survived. Barely. And yes, she’s insufferable.”

“…Insufferable?” Emily scoffs. “…That’s your word for ‘hot and bossy’?”

“…Shut up,” I mutter, though I can’t hide the slight blush creeping up my neck.

Caitlyn smirks. “…You’re lying. You totally liked it.”

I roll my eyes, but deep down—okay, maybe I did.

Breakfast is as usual, chaotic.

Quinn floats through the dining hall in her usual style—oversized hoodie, shorts, hair sticking up in that slightly-mullet way that somehow still looks effortless. But there’s a change. She’s more playful, teasing with campers, giving pointers with exaggerated hand gestures. A little silly. Her usual bossiness softened by humor. And she glances over at me from time to time. Just a quick look, enough to make my chest tighten.

“…Hey, Kennedy” Quinn says coming up to me while i’m sweeping the dining hall. “…You survived the night with your cut without dying? Impressive.”

“…Thanks,” I reply, smiling even though my leg still protests. “…I’ve been practicing my dramatic falls more often now.”

She grins. “…Glad to see it’s paying off.” Her eyes flicker toward the kitchen, then back. “…You okay?”

“…Yeah,” I say quickly, hoping I don’t sound as awkward as I feel.

“…Good,” she says simply, then pivots toward a camper, leaving me with that weird, half-smile.

The afternoon activity periods start.

Waterskiing again.

I feel my stomach drop. Of course we’re paired. Dock management again. Boat driving again.

“…Ready for round two?” Quinn asks, smirk tugging at her lips. “…Try not to kill anyone this time.”

“…Ha ha,” I mutter, trying to sound sarcastic and failing completely. “…Don’t let me stop you.”

Somethings shifted in her, as if finding out yesterday that theres still a way to make this work, brought back her old self.

The first few runs at the dock are professional, clean, smooth. But every now and then, her hand brushes mine while helping a camper with the rope. Small contact. Nothing major. And yet… my chest leaps every time.

After the last run, we’re walking back to the cabin area, towels over our shoulders.

“…Hey,” Quinn says quietly, just as the camp begins buzzing with preparations for dinner. “…You okay with being on cleanup duty together?”

I freeze slightly. “…Uh… sure.”

We spend the next hour scrubbing dishes, sweeping the dining hall, swapping sarcastic comments and small smiles. And even though we aren’t touching, the tension simmers. Every laugh from her, every flash of something in her eyes—it pulls me in against my better judgment.

“…Is there a way I can make this work?” Quinn says confidently, out of nowhere, surprising me.

“Do you want it to?” I respond.

“You’ll see.” She says, winking at me.

My heart stutters.

Later, while I’m walking back to my cabin after dinner, I notice a few of the older campers whispering and glancing my way. Henry— one of the older boys helping with camp cleanup—stands nearby. Too close. Too “friendly.”

“…Seriously?” I mutter under my breath, stepping aside.

Before I can even make it to my tent, Quinn appears beside me. No words. Just that presence. Watching. Protective.

“…You okay?” she asks softly.

“…Yeah,” I say quickly, even though my stomach tightens. “…Just annoying.”

“…Noted,” she mutters, smirk tugging at her lips. “…I’ll deal with it.”

Back in my cabin, I flop onto my bed, exhausted, still buzzing from everything today.

Annabelle sits on the floor beside me, tilting her head. “…You okay?”

“…Yeah,” I say, lying through my teeth. “…Just tired.”

“…Right,” she says, giving me a pointed look. “…Sure you are. You and Quinn are… something else. Don’t deny it.”

I groan. “…I hate you.”

“…I know,” Annabelle says from her bunk. “…But seriously, you should stop pretending you’re fine. You’re not.”

I sigh, covering my face. “…I know.”

That night, lying in my sleeping bag, the quiet of the cabin pressing around me, I can still see Quinn’s face in my mind—the concern, the teasing, the way she insists on being there when I’m hurt or annoyed or just… tense.

I realize, as much as I don’t want to admit it, that she’s gotten under my skin. Deeply.

And after our conversation yesterday, that pull hasn’t disappeared. It’s just… simmering. Waiting.

Waiting for the next moment we’re forced together.