Chapter 45

The morning started innocently enough. The cabins were buzzing with campers, counselors rushing around, and somehow I ended up in the middle of it, juggling CIT drills, lifejacket checks, and Quinn’s dark gaze from across the yard.

“…You’re staring again,” I teased, letting my shoulder brush hers as I passed by. “…Are you sure you’re not just jealous?”

She froze mid-step, eyes narrowing, a smirk tugging at her lips. “…Jealous?” she repeated, voice low and rough, “…Me? Never.”

“…Sure,” I said lightly, grinning. “…Because that’s exactly how someone who isn’t jealous reacts.”

Her jaw tightened, hands curling slightly at her sides. “…You’re impossible,” she muttered, so no one else could hear. “…Absolutely impossible.”

“…Mm, thank you,” I said softly, letting my fingers brush hers ever so slightly. “…I try.”

Quinn’s eyes flicked down to our hands, then back up at me full of warning. “…You’re pushing your luck,” she said, voice low, teasing but edged with danger. “…And you know it.”

“…Maybe I like pushing your buttons,” I whispered, smirking. “…Keeps you on your toes.”

She groaned, but the corner of her lips betrayed that she was enjoying it just as much as I was. “…You’re going to regret that,” she hissed.

“…Oh?” I asked innocently, leaning just a little closer, “…And how would you do that?”

“…You’ll see,” she murmured.

By lunchtime, the teasing had escalated. Quinn cornered me by the table, voice low, pulling me just slightly closer so no one else could see. Her hand brushed mine deliberately, thumb grazing my knuckles. “…Do you like making me jealous?”

“…Maybe,” I whispered, letting my hand linger a fraction longer, “…maybe I love it.”

“…You’re cruel,” she muttered, hand tightening around mine just enough to send sparks through me. “…Absolutely cruel. And I’m warning you—I don’t take this lightly.”

“…Mm, I wouldn’t want you to,” I replied, smirking, leaning into her side, “…I like it when you’re flustered.”

Quinn groaned, tugging slightly on my wrist to pull me closer. “…I swear… you’re going to ruin me,” she muttered.

“…Good,” I whispered, leaning my head against her shoulder, “…that’s the plan.”

Activity periods were chaos. Canoeing, waterskiing, and lifeguard duties kept us in constant proximity. Every time I brushed past her, Quinn’s hand would deliberately linger on my back, shoulder, or arm, pulling me just slightly closer than necessary. Her smirk said it all—this was playful, possessive, and completely intentional.

“…You know,” she said one afternoon while I adjusted a camper’s lifejacket, “…if you keep teasing me like that, I’m not responsible for what I might do.”

“…Oh?” I asked, letting my hand brush hers while pretending to check straps. “…What might you do?”

“…You’ll see,” she whispered, voice low, dark, and commanding, “…and it won’t be subtle.”

“…Mm, I’m counting on it,” I murmured, leaning closer, letting my fingers trail along her arm, “…you do like this, don’t you?”

“…You’re impossible,” she muttered again, jaw tightening, eyes dark—but I caught the twitch of a smile. “…And yes… yes, I do.”

That night, after campfire songs and the CIT’s had gone to bed, we ended up sitting on the dock, legs dangling over the water, shoulders brushing.

“…You know,” Quinn said finally, voice low, leaning closer, “…you’re going to drive me insane if you keep flirting with everyone else at camp.”

“…Who? Me?” I asked, pretending innocence, “…I don’t flirt with anyone. Only you.”

“…Don’t lie,” she muttered, voice teasing but sharp. “…I see the way you tease, the way you brush against others… you’re doing it on purpose.”

“…Maybe I am,” I said softly, leaning my shoulder against hers. “…Maybe I like seeing you react.”

She groaned, pressing her shoulder against mine, smirk tugging at her lips. 

The lake reflected the moonlight, calm and peaceful, but between us, the tension sizzled hotter than ever. It all mixed into something messy, intoxicating, and completely irresistible.

And I knew, without a doubt, that this was only the beginning.