Chapter 17

The last full day of session one arrives in the usual chaos of mid-July sun. The camp is buzzing with energy as campers start packing, arguing over who left the cabin light on, and trying to sneak one last prank before the buses arrive tomorrow.

The day feels short, a little boring, but the evening activity is whats keeping everyone excited. Tonight, its banquet dinner, where everyone dresses up nice and we have fancy food. Then after, its staff pics on the dock, then we go into the final bonfire, where we put on a fire show. The bowstaff at camp twirl fire around on their batons, and do lots of tricks, it always shocks the campers in the best way. Its one of my favorite parts of camp.

Me, Annabelle, and all our campers spend free time getting ready for banquet. I put on my best dress and do my makeup and hair all pretty. 

“Yess girl you look so good I could marry you right now!” Annabelle calls from her bunk, where she’s putting on mascara.

“Not as good as you!” I reply cheerfully.

We take out campers down to the dining hall, everyone looks amazing. Tonight we sit with our campers, if you have one. And if you don’t have a cabin, you serve and sit with the cabin of your choosing.

All the cabins line up outside, waiting for the staff that chose them to escort them to their table. 

The youngest cabins go first, so Annabelle and I’s cabin is the second last to go in. 

“How much you wanna bet Quinn picked us” Annabelle giggles behind me.

“Oh my gosh” I say in response, not wanting to give away how much I want that.

Of course, the next person that comes outside to escort us in is her. I have butterflies in my stomach.

Quinn walks up to us, and curtsies in front of me. She then takes my hand and leads us in dramatically.

The campers immediately start giggling behind me.

“…Oh my god,” Annabelle whispers. “…that was insane.”

“…Shut up,” I mutter, but I’m smiling way too hard.

Quinn doesn’t let go of my hand right away.

Just long enough to make it noticeable.

Then she releases it casually, like it meant nothing, and gesture toward the table.

“…After you.”

The dining hall looks completely different.

String lights are hung across the ceiling, warm and glowing. The usual loud, chaotic energy is still there—but softer, dressed up. Tables are set nicely, actual tablecloths, proper plates, everything.

My campers are freaking out.

“…This is so fancy,” one of them whispers.

“…It’s literally like a wedding,” another adds.

“…Yeah,” I say, glancing quickly at Quinn. “…something like that.”

We sit, and Quinn slides into the empty seat beside me, our thighs touching, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Dinner starts, and campers are spilling drinks, laughing too loud, and everyones complimenting each other.

Quinn leans slightly toward me at one point, lowering her voice.

“…You clean up nice.”

I glance at her.

She’s wearing a button-up, sleeves rolled, hair slightly styled but still messy in that way that works way too well.

“…You don’t look terrible yourself,” I shoot back.

She smirks.

“…High praise.”

Our knees bump under the table.

Neither of us moves them.

At one point, one of my campers leans across me dramatically.

“…Kennedy, you and Quinn are like—”

“…Okay!” I cut her off quickly, laughing nervously. “…Eat your food.”

Quinn laughs under her breath.

“…You’re subtle,” she murmurs.

“…I’m trying,” I whisper back.

Dinner passes too quickly, it always does.

After dinner, all the staff head down to the dock.

The sky is that deep summer blue, fading into night, and the lake is completely still—like glass.

“Group staff photo first!” someone calls.

We all pile onto the dock, trying to organize.

It’s loud. Messy. People complaining. People laughing.

“Short people in front!”

“Kennedy, get down there!” Annabelle yells.

“…I hate all of you,” I mutter, crouching near the front anyway.

Quinn ends up behind me. She presses her thighs against my back, making my stomach do flips.

“Okay—everyone look here!”

Flash.

Immediately after, the structure falls apart.

People start pulling out their phones, digital cameras, Polaroids—grabbing friends, yelling names, dragging each other into pictures.

“Kennedy! Pic!” Emily calls, already waving her phone.

I laugh, jogging over. We squeeze together—me, Emily, Annabelle, Caitlyn—arms thrown around each other.

“Wait, that was bad—again!”

“No it wasn’t!”

“I blinked!”

More laughter. More photos.

Someone’s taking candids. Someone’s doing dramatic poses at the end of the dock. A group of guys is pretending to push each other into the water.

I step back for a second, fixing my dress, catching my breath—

“…You gonna avoid being in pictures all night?”

I turn.

Quinn.

She’s holding a small digital camera, tilting it slightly in her hand, looking at me with that same half-smirk.

“…I’ve taken pictures,” I say.

“Not with me,” she replies.

My stomach flips.

“…Wow,” I say. “Feeling left out?”

“A little,” she admits, completely unfazed.

I laugh softly.

“Okay. Fine.”

She steps closer, lifting the camera slightly.

“Come here.”

I move in beside her, close enough that our shoulders press together.

“…You’re taller,” I point out.

“Yeah,” she says. “obviously.”

“…So you take it.”

She rolls her eyes but raises the camera, angling it slightly above us.

“…Ready?” she asks.

“…Yeah.”

But neither of us looks at the camera right away. We both hesitate for half a second.

Then—click.

“…Wait,” Quinn says, glancing down. “…That’s bad.”

“…Let me see.”

I lean in, closer now, both of us looking at the tiny screen.

Our heads almost touch.

“…It’s not that bad,” I say.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

She scrolls. Pause.

“Okay, this one’s better.”

I glance at it.

We’re both smiling. Not big. Not fake.

Just—

real.

“Send it to me,” I say.

She glances at me sideways.

“Yeah?”

“…Yeah.”

A beat.

“…Okay,” she says quietly.

And something about that feels bigger than it should.

The sun dips lower, and everyone starts moving toward the fire pit. That familiar anticipation builds.

I’m helping my campers get settled when I feel someone tap my shoulder.

I turn.

Quinn.

She’s holding elastics, hair slightly damp from the humidity, already in her bowstaff fit. Biker shorts and a sports bra, with black painted markings everywhere.

“Can you braid my hair?” she asks.

I blink.

“…Me?”

“You’re the only one I trust not to mess it up.”

I roll my eyes. “That sounds fake.”

“…It’s not,” she says, quieter now.

“Fine. Sit.”

We move off to the side. Quinn sits, and I stand behind her, fingers sliding into her hair.

“Don’t pull,” she warns.

“Stop being dramatic.”

She huffs a quiet laugh.

I braid slowly, careful, my fingers brushing her neck every so often.

She goes still for a second.

“…You good?” I ask.

“Yeah. Just—keep doing your thing.”

I finish, tying it off.

“…There. You look less chaotic.”

She glances up at me.

“You don’t like chaotic?”

“I didn’t say that.”

She smiles.

“Thanks, Kennedy.”

“Don’t mess it up.”

“Watch me.”

The fire lights. The crowd quiets.

Then—

movement.

Quinn steps forward with the rest of the bowstaff.

And she’s unreal.

Flames spin, catching the air, reflecting in the lake. The crowd gasps as they all toss, catch, spin—effortless, controlled.

I can’t look away.

At one point, Quinn turns toward our side—

and winks.

My heart literally stutters.

“…Kennedy?” Annabelle whispers.

“I’m fine.”

I’m not fine.

The show builds, then ends in a burst of cheers.

Campers scatter, buzzing.

I find Quinn again.

“…That was insane,” I say immediately.

She grins.

“…Yeah?”

“You’re such a show-off.”

“You love it.”

I pause.

“…Yeah.”

Something shifts in her expression.

“…Good.”

A beat.

“…You did really good,” I add, quieter.

She hold my gaze.

“So did you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly.”

I roll my eyes.

But I’m smiling.

And as the night fades—

I stay just a little closer to her.

Not obvious, not too much, but enough.

Because I already know—

I’m going to remember tonight.