Chapter 41

The camp was quieter than usual that night. Most campers were in their cabins, exhausted from the afternoon activity, while the counselors were finishing up paperwork or cleaning supplies. I was lugging a crate of first-aid kits across the cabin yard, humming a little, trying not to think about the way Quinn had been smirking at me all day.

“…Kennedy!”

I froze. Of course, it was her. Quinn was leaning against the cabin door, arms crossed, hoodie slipping off one shoulder again, that messy short hair catching the last golden light of the sun. “…You’re taking forever.”

“…I’m carrying a crate,” I said, rolling my eyes, “…not sprinting a marathon.”

“…Mm-hmm,” she said, smirk tugging at her lips. “…Sure. Just like you’re not flirting with every person you pass.”

“…I’m not—” I started, but she stepped closer, tilting her head, eyes dark. “…You’re totally doing it on purpose. You love seeing me like this.”

“…I—” I groaned, dropping the crate lightly (just enough to get her attention) and leaning against it for support. “…You’re insane.”

“…Mm,” she purred, sliding closer, hand brushing mine as she leaned over the crate. “…And you love it.”

Suddenly, the camp director’s voice boomed from the far side of the yard. “…Kennedy! Quinn! We need both of you to check the waterfront before the night program!”

“…Great,” I muttered.

Quinn’s eyes sparkled like she knew exactly what I was thinking. “…Oh, you love this,” she said, smirking. “…Don’t act like you don’t.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes, “…Yeah, yeah, let’s just go.”

The walk to the waterfront was quiet, mostly because we were both avoiding the urge to touch each other—or glance at each other too much. But it didn’t work. Not at all.

“…You know,” Quinn murmured, voice low, “…I could totally let you carry all those kits alone next time.”

“…You wouldn’t dare,” I whispered, smirking. “…I saw the way you groaned yesterday when I was with Tanner.”

“…I hated that,” she hissed, brushing her hand along mine just a little too long as we climbed a small incline. “…Hated it. You’re going to pay for that.”

“…Maybe I like paying you back with a little teasing,” I said, grinning. “…Keeps you on edge.”

“…Ugh,” she groaned, but I caught the twitch of a smirk anyway. “…You’re so cruel.”

When we finally reached the waterfront, a camper had somehow tangled her life jacket in the ropes. Quinn and I bent over together to fix it, hands brushing repeatedly, knees bumping. Each touch was electric.

“…God,” Quinn muttered under her breath, eyes darkening, “…I can’t deal with you sometimes. Why do you have to look like that?”

“…Like what?” I teased, deliberately arching an eyebrow and brushing my fingers over the back of her hand when she reached for the ropes. “…Like a little bossy, flustered, hot mess?”

“…You’re so going to get it later,” she muttered, voice low, teasing, frustrated, hand lingering on the rope just a second too long, purposely brushing mine. “…You’re going to regret this.”

I laughed softly, leaning a little closer under the guise of checking the straps. “…Yeah? I think I’m enjoying it too much to care.”

By the time the waterfront was sorted, the sun had dipped behind the trees. We walked back slowly, shoulders brushing, every small touch intentional. Quinn kept muttering under her breath, low growls and huffs of frustration I could barely hear.

“…You’re killing me,” she admitted finally, voice rough and low. “…Every time you do that, every look, every little touch—I can’t.”

“…That’s the point,” I whispered back, leaning closer and letting my fingers graze hers, “…to keep you on edge.”

Quinn froze, eyes narrowing, lips parting, chest rising slightly. “…You’re going to ruin me if you keep this up,” she whispered, almost growling. “…I can’t—ugh, I hate you.”

“…Do you?” I teased, smirk tugging at my lips. “…Or do you love it?”

She pressed a little closer as we reached the cabin steps, hand brushing my waist deliberately, voice dropping even lower. “…I—maybe I do. But don’t think I’m letting you get away with it.”

“…Wouldn’t dream of it,” I whispered, smirking. “…Not tonight.”

By the time we finally returned to the cabin, the tension was sizzling, electric, and messy. Every glance, every brush of skin, every teasing word from both of us had built up into something dangerous—something neither of us could ignore.