Chapter 18

Its officially the last day of camp. All the campers are packed up, the buses have pulled up, and were organizing everyone to leave.

I glance at Quinn—overseeing her team, giving quick instructions, teasing a camper who nearly trips. Her shoulder brushes a camper lightly, but I can’t stop watching her. She notices me looking and smirks, eyebrow raised. Heat rushes to my face, and I curse myself silently.

Finally, the campers are gone. The buses disappear down the dirt road, leaving the camp unusually quiet. Empty. Free.

And then comes the two-day staff break. Our reward: the legendary mid-summer staff party.

Kallie and Quinns’s other friends are already yelling from the dock, throwing glow sticks in the lake, calling for drinks, and generally being chaotic.

“DRINKS! MUSIC! FUN!” Kallie shouts, waving a bottle like a wand.

I groan, brushing sand off my legs. “…Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” I mumble.

Quinn strolls toward me, hoodie draped off one shoulder, shorts sticking to her legs, hair messy and sun-kissed. She grins, eyes sparkling with that dangerous mix of teasing and intent.

“…Ready to see how the staff really party?” she asks.

I smirk. “…I think I can handle it.”

She tilts her head, smirk widening. “…We’ll see about that.”

The party itself is chaotic and perfect. Fire pits blaze. Music thumps. Staff are everywhere—jumping into the lake, dancing, drinking, challenging each other to dares. Annabelle, Emily, and Caitlyn are already in full chaos mode, dancing wildly in the sand, stealing drinks from each other, and laughing like we all forgot the world outside this camp existed.

Quinn is somewhere between supervising and joining the fun. Hoodie sliding casually off her shoulder, shorts sand-covered, bikini top straps showing. She grins as I approach, voice teasing. “…Let’s see if you can survive this, Kennedy.”

I raise an eyebrow, smirk tugging at my lips. “…Survive? I thrive in these atmospheres.”

She laughs softly, stepping closer. Shoulder brushes mine lightly as she leans in to talk. “…We’ll see.”

Drinks are flowing quickly. Some staff are already a little too tipsy, daring each other into the lake, jumping into sand forts, or challenging people to dance-offs. Quinn nudges me playfully, drink in hand. “…Careful. Don’t get sloppy too soon.”

I grin, raising my cup. “…Sloppy? Me? Never.” I reply, slurring my words a little.

“Sure,” she replies, smirk just sharp enough to tease, “…we’ll see how long that lasts.”

We weave through the chaos together, dodging people being thrown into shallow water, laughing, teasing each other in that way that’s been building all summer. The night stretches on. Laughter echoes. Music pulses. The fire crackles. The smell of the lake water, sweat, and sunscreen is intoxicating.

Hours later, we’re sitting near the fire pit. Quinn’s a bit drunk, and me? I think I’ve far exceeded my alcohol limit. Quinn’s hoodie has fallen completely off one shoulder now, revealing more of her sun-kissed skin, and her damp hair curls in a way that makes my heart hammer. She leans back on her hands, casually brushing her shoulder against mine.

“You’re ridiculous,” I murmur, breath catching a little.

“And yet,” she reply, voice low, teasing, “…I like it.”

I glance at her, lips twitching in a smirk. “…Of course you do.”

She nudges me closer, shoulder pressing against mine deliberately this time. “…You have no idea.”

Then, one of the younger male staff—a flirty, mischievous guy—walks by and starts joking around with Quinn, teasing her about something minor. Quinn laughs lightly, but I notice the subtle flash of awareness in her eyes when she glances at me. I can’t help it, even in my state, my stomach twists, my heart speeds up.

“…Careful,” I mutter, voice low, smirk teasing but my chest pounding.

Quinn leans slightly toward me, smirk softening, voice low. “…I am. Don’t worry… you’re mine tonight, Kenny.”

I freeze. “…Excuse me?”

She shrugs casually, eyes glinting with mischief. “…You heard me.”

My chest races. I stare at her, unable to respond immediately. She laughs softly, brushing a hand along my arm. “…Relax. You’ll survive this, Kennedy.”

The fire crackles. Music pounds in the background. Staff are dancing, drinking, running into the lake in pairs or groups. I lean into Quinn more for support. Shoulder pressing against hers. Breath warm. Eyes glinting. Smirk teasing.

“…You’re lucky,” I slur, smirk tugging at my lips.

“…I’m very aware,” she replies, voice soft, intimate, playful. Leaning closer. “…And tonight? I think you’re even luckier than you realize.”

My heart flips. “…Oh really?”

She shrugs, leaning closer still, face inches from mine. “…Oh yes.”

And then… one drunken, perfect moment. I lean in slightly, she leans closer. Breath mingles. And without thinking, without hesitation—our lips meet.

Soft. Clumsy. Electric. Messy. Perfect.

Our hands are all over each other, my heads spinning a little.

I pull back slightly, heart racing.

Quinn smirks, voice low, teasing. “…Finally.”

“…Finally? You’ve been teasing me all summer!” I reply, playful but breathless.

“Wouldn’t you like it?” She murmurs, eyes glinting, close enough to touch.

I can only grin. “…Maybe.”

The night stretches on. We dance in the sand, steal more touches, laugh, drink too much, stumble into the shallow water, and collapse on a log side by side. The first spark of summer romance has finally ignited, messy, chaotic, drunk, and utterly perfect.

And I know… this is just the beginning.

The next morning, the sun is already high over camp, blindingly bright for a summer mid-July morning, but everything feels muted through a haze of lingering alcohol and exhaustion. My head pounds like someone is doing a percussion solo inside my skull. My stomach rebels. And somewhere deep down, I know that last round of tequila shots with Kallie and Quinn was… not my smartest idea.

I groan, dragging myself out of my sleeping bag and into the sticky heat of the cabin. Annabelle and Emily are already up, laughing quietly over the chaos of the previous night. Caitlyn is groaning on the floor, half-covered in a towel, clearly just as miserable.

“…I hate everything,” I mutter, crawling toward the tiny cabin sink and pouring water over my face.

Annabelle laughs. “Yeah… last night got wild.” She smirks knowingly. “…And you? You were… spectacular.”

I glare, wiping water from my face. “…Thanks for reminding me.”

Outside, the camp is alive with the hum of post-party chaos. Staff are stumbling around, coffee in hand, trying to salvage dignity after last night. Music still lingers faintly from the fire pit area, though most of the drunk chaos has been cleaned up.

And then I see her.

Quinn. Hood half-on, hair still messy from lake and party, shorts sand-covered, oversized hoodie somehow looking effortlessly good even while half-asleep and half-drunk. She’s leaning against a post near the dock, sipping coffee, eyes half-closed but glinting at me like she already knows I’m hungover and miserable.

“…Morning,” she mutters, smirk tugging at her lips. “…You survived?”

I stagger toward her, hands on my knees for balance. “…Barely.”

She laughs softly, tilting her head, and brushing her fingers over my shoulder—accidental, casual, but my chest flutters anyway. “…You’re lucky I was keeping an eye on you last night.”

I glare playfully, rubbing my forehead. “…Lucky? I think my liver might disagree.”

“Details,” she replies, smirk teasing. “…You looked adorable, even falling into the lake like that.”

I shove her lightly. “…Not funny!”

She laughs, deep and warm, leaning against the post so close I can feel the heat radiating off her. “…Admit it. You liked it.”

“…Maybe,” I mutter, face heating.

Coffee in hand, we wander toward the fire pit, joining the few other staff who survived the night in some form of dignity. Kallie is already groaning, Noah is trying to figure out how to reheat leftover pancakes from the morning, and Annabelle is bouncing around too cheerfully for someone still drunk-ish.

Quinn leans close again, brushing shoulders as we walk. “…So… that kiss last night. You’re not going to chicken out now, are you?”

I freeze. “…Excuse me?”

She grins, voice low and teasing. “…That. Kiss. Don’t pretend it didn’t happen.” Shoulder nudges mine just slightly. “…And I’m not letting you forget it.”

I glare, but my lips twitch. “…You’re impossible.”

“You love it.” She replies, smirk wide.

The rest of the morning is a mix of hangover survival, cleaning up after the mini-mayhem the staff left behind, and awkwardly navigating our new dynamic. Every glance, every accidental brush of skin, every shared joke carries a little weight now.

I notice the way Quinn moves around the fire pit—casual, confident, oversized hoodie falling off one shoulder, shorts sticking to sand—and my stomach flips.

“…You realize,” I say, voice teasing, “…this is going to be weird for the next few hours.”

“Why?” she asks, smirk softening, voice low. “…Because of last night? Or because I’m ridiculously hot in hoodies?”

I snort. “…Both.”

She leans just a little closer, brushing fingers against mine as she passes. “…Noted.”

By mid-morning, hangovers are fading, replaced by a new tension. Flirty, awkward, teasing tension. I catch her laughing at some random comment from Kallie, and my chest twists slightly. I want to tease back. I want to touch. I want… more.

Quinn notices me staring. “…What’s that look for?” she asks, voice soft, smirk still teasing. “…You still thinking about last night?”

“…Maybe,” I admit, heart hammering. “…Maybe I am.”

She grins, brushing shoulders with mine again. “…Good. Because I am too.”

The sun beats down on us. Camp smells of saltwater, sand, sunscreen, and leftover firewood. Birds caw in the distance. The world feels hazy and slow.

By noon, most staff have recovered enough to start planning the next session, joking about the chaos, teasing each other, and laughing at the lingering hangover victims. Quinn and I linger near the dock, shoulders brushing, exchanging playful glances and teasing remarks.

“…So,” I say, smirk tugging at my lips, “…are we going to pretend nothing happened? Or… are we actually going to deal with this?”

She grins, voice low and teasing. “…Deal with what? You and me?”

“…Yeah,” I admit, breath catching. “…That.”

Quinn leans in slightly, smirk softening into something just shy of serious. “…Good. Because I want to see where this goes.”