Chapter 2

The next morning, camp wake-up is violent.

Not physically. Emotionally.

I’m half-conscious, face smashed into my pillow, when someone bangs on the cabin door like we’re under attack.

“UP. CIT’S—DOCK IN TEN.”

Thats me and Annabelle. Counsellor in training staff. Were the counsellors of the second oldest group of campers. The oldest being JRC’s, junior counsellors.

Our campers groan.

I don’t even open my eyes. “No.”

Annabelle throws something at me. “Yes, the camp director told you that your the counsellor helping teach their bronze med.”

“But I’m new,” I mumble into my blanket. “I don’t have responsibilities yet.”

“You literally do,” Anabelle says. “You signed a contract.”

“Fake.”

Another bang on the door.

“KENNEDY.”

My eyes snap open. Oh. That’s specific.

I sit up slowly, hair already doing the absolute most, and glare at the door like it personally offended me.

“You’re getting targeted,” a camper says, way too amused for this hour.

“I don’t even know her,” I mutter, swinging my legs off the bunk.

“Yeah,” Annabelle grins. “But she know’s you.”

I ignore that because I don’t like what it implies.

The dock is cold.

Not like, freezing, but enough that I regret every life choice that led me here at… I check my watch… 6:42 AM.

“Why are we awake.” I whisper, watching the CIT’s gather in a semi-circle, way too energetic for teenagers.

“Because they’re 15 and terrifying.” I respond to myself.

“Morning.”

I don’t need to turn around. But I do anyway.

Quinn’s standing a few feet behind us, arms crossed, clipboard in hand like always. She look’s fully awake, which feels illegal.

Grey hoodie. Shorts. Hair a mess in that very intentional way. The septum ring catches the early light just enough to be distracting.

Annoying.

“Morning,” my campers say easily.

I give a nod. “Hi.”

Quinn’s eyes flick to me for half a second longer than necessary.

“You’re late.”

I blink. “I’m—no I’m not.”

She tilts her head slightly. “You are.”

“It’s 6:43.”

“Exactly.”

I stare at her.

She stares back.

This is insane.

“…okay,” I say finally. “Good talk.”

A camper snorts behind me.

Quinn doesn’t react much, but I see it again—that almost-smile. Like she’s holding it back on purpose.

“Bronze med’s starting,” she say’s, pushing off the railing. “Try to keep up.”

“I hate her,” I whisper.

“You don’t,” my brain whispers back.

Bronze med is worse than I remember.

Not the actual content—that’s fine. It’s the demonstrations.

Which, apparently, I’m helping with.

“Alright,” Quinn says, pacing in front of the group. “Rescue scenario. Victim is unconscious. Kennedy—front.”

I freeze.

“Why me?”

She doesn’t even look at me. “Because I said so.”

That’s—That’s not a reason.

I step forward anyway, because there are 20 fifteen-year-olds watching and I’m not about to lose a power battle I didn’t agree to enter.

“Great,” Quinn says. “You’re drowning.”

“Awesome.”

“Commit to it.”

I cross my arms. “I’m not method acting drowning at 7 AM.”

A couple of the campers laugh.

Quinn finally looks at me properly.

“Then sink,” she say’s.

The tone—It’s calm. Flat.

But there’s something under it. Challenge.

I narrow my eyes.

“Oh, you want commitment?” I say.

And then I just—Fall.

Full send. Straight into the water.

It’s freezing. Immediate regret.

I come up gasping, pushing my hair out of my face. “You’re paying for my therapy.”

The dock erupts in laughter.

Quinn just stands there, looking down at me.

And then—

She grins.

Not subtle. Not hidden.

Full, sharp, actually hot grin.

“Better,” she says.

Oh. I hate that.

I tread water, trying very hard to ignore the fact that my heart just did something weird.

“Are you getting in or—?” I gesture. “Or is this like a ‘watch me suffer’ thing?”

Quinn hands her clipboard to one of the campers.

And then, without breaking eye contact, she pulls off her hoodie.

Okay. That’s—Unnecessary.

She dives in clean, barely a splash, and surface a few feet away from me like she’s done that a thousand times.

Which she probably has.

“Now,” she says, voice back to business, “we do it properly.”

I roll my eyes, but I move closer.

Professional. This is professional.

“Approach from behind,” she says, circling me. “Control the victim.”

“Rude,” I mutter.

Her hand closes around my wrist to demonstrate positioning.

Firm. Steady. Not lingering. But not exactly quick either.

“Focus,” she says quietly.

I am. That’s the problem.

I feel her body pressed against my back, my stomach does flips.

We run through the demo, her voice steady, explaining each step while I try very hard to act like her proximity isn’t doing anything.

It’s not. Obviously.

When we’re done, she lets go and steps back like nothing happened.

“Again,” she says to the group. “Pair up.”

I swim to the dock, pulling myself up and immediately grabbing a towel.

Annabelle’s here now. Grinning like she just watched a live show.

“Don’t,” I warn.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking it loudly.”

She shrugs. “Chemistry’s crazy.”

“There is no chemistry.”

“You jumped into a lake for them.”

“I jumped into a lake out of spite.”

“Same thing.”

I open my mouth to argue—And then glance back.

Quinn’s in the water, correcting someone’s technique, one hand guiding their arm, voice calm but firm.

Completely in her element. Confident. In control. Annoying.

I look away.

“Whatever,” I mutter, wrapping the towel tighter around myself.

But my eyes drift back again anyway. Just for a second.

By the time we hit breakfast, I’m starving, damp, and already over whatever weird dynamic is forming.

We pile into the dining hall with the rest of staff, noise bouncing off the walls, trays clattering, someone already arguing over cereal.

“KENNEDY.”

I don’t even react at first.

Then—Right. I turn.

Quinn’s at the end of a table, nodding toward an empty seat across from her.

“You’re with leadership staff,” she say’s.

I blink. “I also have a cabin.”

“And you’ll see them all day,” Quinn replies. “Sit.” 

I look over at Annabelle sitting with our cabin, she gives me a nod, signalling she’s okay with them on her own.

I hesitate just long enough to make it a thing.

Then sit.

“Hi,” I say, overly polite.

“Hi,” she replies, same bubbly tone.

We stare at each other for half a second.

“This is weird,” I say.

“A little.”

“Do you do this with all your staff or—?”

“Only the ones who jump into lakes unprompted.”

I snort despite myself. “You told me to.”

“I told you to sink.”

“Semantics.”

Her mouth twitches again.

Win.

Kallie – Quinn’s best friend drops into the seat beside her. “Oh, you’re the new one.”

“Wow,” I say. “Love the branding.”

“She hasn’t shut up about you,” Kallie adds.

Quinn kicks her under the table. Hard.

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Shut up,” Quinn says.

Kallie grins. “No, it’s—”

“Kallie.”

There’s a look.

A very specific don’t, look.

Kallie holds up her hands. “Okay. Fine. I value my life.”

I lean back slightly, crossing my arms.

Interesting.

“Anyway,” Quinn says, clearly moving on, “waterski later. You’re on dock.”

“With you?” I ask.

She glances at me.

“Yeah.”

I nod slowly. “Cool.”

It shouldn’t feel like anything.

It’s just scheduling. Normal. Routine.

But something about the way she said it—

Like it was already decided. Like I didn’t really have a choice. Like she wanted that pairing.

I look down at my tray, hiding a small smile.

This is fine, its just—Camp. It’s day one, nothing’s happened. 

Not really.

But something’s starting. And I have a feeling, I’m going to regret it.