Chapter 20

Todays busy. Staff scramble between activity areas, and campers buzz with boundless energy. I’m in my cabin, braids messy from a quick morning run along the waterfront, sweating slightly through my tank top, trying to motivate my CIT’s to actually pack their gear without arguing over who left the cabin light on last night.

Annabelle bursts in, hair still slightly wet from early swim practice, grin wide. “Kennedy! You might want to come see this.”

I groan, heart tightening in a way I can’t quite explain, I just know its about Quinn.

Outside, she’s supervising younger campers during the first morning activity: archery. Oversized t-shirt on, shorts slightly damp from the morning swim, hair curling around her face. She laughs at a camper’s ridiculous stance, then glances toward me. Our eyes meet briefly, and the heat in my chest flares.

Before I can breathe, one of the male staff—funny, flirty, a little too confident—walks up. “Hey, Quinn, need a hand with these little troublemakers?” he asks, smirk teasing.

Quinn glances at him, smirk playful but eyes scanning toward me. “…I’m fine, thanks.”

But my chest tightens. Why do I feel… possessive? Protective? It’s irrational, but the twist in my stomach refuses to lie.

I step closer. “…I can help.”

“…Not necessary,” Quinn says smoothly, voice calm, confident. But her shoulder brushes mine ever so slightly as she adjusts a target, and my stomach flips again.

Later, during waterskiing, I can feel my anxiety simmering. Quinn drives the boat, hair sticking damply to her forehead, hoodie tied around her waist, bikini barely peeking out. My arms brush hers as we coordinate camper launches. I notice the same male staff member hovering on the dock, clearly trying to impress Quinn, laughing a little too loudly at something she said.

I feel a pang of jealousy—sharp, bitter, unmistakable. And the worst part? Quinn doesn’t seem upset. Not yet.

“…Relax,” she says as we coordinate the next camper, voice teasing, smirk in place. “…You’re doing fine.”

I glare, heart racing. “…Yeah, but apparently he’s doing better.”

She glances at me, eyebrow raised. “…Who?”

“…That guy!” I snap, pointing vaguely. “…Always hovering, always laughing. Too much.”

Quinn laughs softly, leaning closer, hair brushing my shoulder. “…Relax. You’re the one I noticed first, Kennedy. And the one I want to notice.”

Heat floods my chest. “…Good. Because I don’t like feeling… jealous.”

“…Well,” she murmurs, smirk teasing, “…that’s going to happen a lot.”

By lunch, I’m still simmering. Annabelle notices, smirking. “Yeah… someone’s jealous.”

“…I’m not jealous!” I insist, shoving a sandwich into my mouth, though my hands shake slightly.

“…Sure,” she says, teasing mercilessly. “…You’re totally fine watching Quinn laugh at other people. Totally fine.”

I groan. “…Annabelle. Stop.”

Afternoon activity period is kayak relays. Quinn supervises, I stay with my CIT’s. Every time her arm brushes mine as we coordinate starts, or when I see her laughing at some stupid joke from another staff member, that pang of jealousy flares again—hot, sharp, and lingering.

“…Why do I feel like I should just… grab her and run?” I mutter under my breath, lips twitching.

“…Because that would be adorable,” Annabelle whispers. “…But also not allowed.”

The tension doesn’t stop at the end of the day. During the evening bonfire, staff are lounging around, roasting marshmallows, recounting the chaos of the week. Quinn sits near me, oversized hoodie drowning her, smirk playful.

“…You’re still thinking about earlier?” she murmurs, leaning closer, casual but deliberate. Shoulder brushing mine. “…I can feel it.”

“…Maybe,” I admit softly, heart hammering. “…You make it… impossible not to.”

Quinn grins, leaning back just enough to tease. “…Good. Because I don’t plan on making it easy.”

After campers retreat to cabins, I find myself helping clean up with Quinn. We brush sand off tables, toss leftover marshmallows into the lake, and work in companionable silence—shoulders brushing, arms occasionally bumping. The tension is palpable, teasing, electric.

“…So,” I say finally, smirk teasing but heart racing. “…That guy earlier. Still thinking about him?”

“…Hardly,” Quinn replies, tone playful but low. “…You were the one I was paying attention to, Kennedy.” 

“…Good,” I murmur, voice low. “…Because I think I’m going to notice you a lot this week.”

“…Oh, I hope so,” she replies, smirk widening, voice softening slightly. “…Because I definitely notice you.”

This week, this session, the camp isn’t just about campers and activities now. It’s also about us. And I have no idea how long I can keep pretending nothing’s changed.