Chapter 9

The anticipation hits like a drumbeat.

It’s Friday afternoon. The last rotation is winding down. Campers are exhausted but hyped. Staff are stretched thin but laughing anyway. And I feel that familiar mix of excitement and dread—because weekend means the beach party, outtrip, and of course… Quinn.

I’m corralling my cabin back from crafts, Annabelle trailing behind me.

“Do you think Quinn’s going to try waterskiing tomorrow too?” she asks.

I snort. “Probably. She wants to show off too.”

“Or she wants to see you show off again.”

I glare at her. “That’s impossible.”

“Uh-huh.”

The cabin drifts toward dinner, and I immediately spot Quinn near the table, leaning casually against a post, one hand stuffed in her pocket. Her hair’s messy from the day, short curls sticking out just right, hoodie half-open over a tank. The classic ‘I don’t care but I do’ pose. My chest tightens like always.

She catches me looking and give a small smirk before turning back to talk to Kallie. I feel a little spark of irritation—or pride. Maybe both.

Dinner is chaotic.

The campers are buzzing about the weekend, planning outfits for the beach party, talking about the outtrip.

Across the hall, I spot Quinn again. Team Indigo is having a mini meeting before tomorrow, and  she’s clearly in charge—still bossy, still sharp—but more relaxed. Laughing more. Watching us with that knowing look that drives me insane.

After dinner, we have a brief window before cabin time. I collapse on the dock with Annabelle, Emily, and Caitlyn.

“Beach party tomorrow,” Annabelle says. “You ready?”

“I’m ready,” I reply, letting my feet dip in the water. “I just hope Quinn doesn’t make it a competition.”

Emily snorts. “Oh, she will.”

“I’m not competing,” I say. “I just do my thing.”

Caitlyn nudges me. “Show off a little. For fun.”

I grin. “Always for fun.”

The evening program is a bonfire. Campers sit in a circle around the fire, telling stories. Sparks drift upward. The air is warm, faint smell of smoke and lakewater. I sit next to Annabelle, roasting a marshmallow carefully so it doesn’t catch fire.

“Slow,” I tell my camper. “Patience is key.”

“Like you?” Annabelle whispers.

“Exactly like me.”

Annabelle snorts. “You’re impossible.”

I grin. “I know.”

Later, everyone starts to drift back to cabins. I linger by the dock for a moment, staring at the reflection of the stars on the water. Quiet. Peaceful.

“Hey.”

I snap my head up. Quinn. Of course.

“Stalking me now?” I say, smirking.

“Part of my job,” she replies, stepping closer.

I roll my eyes but don’t move. “You say that about everything.”

“Applies to everything.”

“Convenient.”

She falls into step beside me. Not too close or too far. Just enough to notice.

“You excited for tomorrow?” I ask.

“Beach party?” she says. “Yeah.”

I raise an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

She shrugs. “It’s fun.”

“That’s not a real answer.”

“Doesn’t need to be,” she says, and for a second, there’s that small, unreadable pause—the one that makes my stomach flip.

We reach the split in the path—cabins one way, staff the other. Quinn slows just enough to match my pace.

“See you tomorrow,” I say.

“6:40,” she replies.

“I’ll be there,” I say.

“I know,” she answers. And there it is again—that tiny, infuriating confidence.

I walk the rest of the way to my cabin, heart slightly louder than it should be. Because that moment—just standing there, shoulder to shoulder, neither of us moving away—was enough to make me question everything I thought I knew about my summer.

In bed, I stare at the ceiling.

The weekend’s coming.

The party, the outtrip.

And Quinn.

The pull, the tension, the almost.

I shift under my blanket, tomorrow’s going to be crazy.

And I’m already here for it.