MACKENZIE
Asoft light filtered through the blinds, waking me up. I stretched slowly, rolling onto my back and raising my arms overhead. I reached for Max, but he was gone. I sat up, staring at his empty spot, with memories of last night playing over and over in my head, like some kind of mental loop torture. I wanted more. After he touched me, he smiled, kissed me, and cuddled up next to me like I was his lifeline, like I was his anchor, and we drifted into sleep together, tangled in each other.
It had been… romantic.
The bed felt cold and empty without him. Where was he?
I silently slipped out of my bunk, glancing into the shadowed main part of the cabin. The other counselors lay sprawled across mattresses, limbs tangled in restless sleep. I hurriedly pulled on my yellow camp shirt and black shorts, pretending I was a normal eighteen-year-old girl with a normal brain. Not someone consumed by the memory of her best friend’s grasping hands all over her.
I went through my morning routine on autopilot, my movements almost mechanical. I brushed my teeth, tied my hair intotwo braids, and slathered SPF onto my face, each act a desperate distraction from him. His toothbrush and aftershave sat next to my hairbrush and makeup on the bathroom counter, a haunting reminder of how close we were. Arealcouple, by all standards.
But here we were, trapped in a twisted game of cat and mouse with no qualms about the consequences. How long could this chaos last before we shattered everything?
A small red mark on my neck made me freeze. I leaned closer to the mirror, examining the splotches beneath my ear. Had he given me a hickey? My fingers brushed the red print.
Yes, he had. That jerk had marked me!
I scanned the room, searching for him like he was going to appear out of thin air. I wanted to punch him, to make him pay. The silence was deafening, and I felt a strange sensation of being watched.
I didn’t like being without him.
As I stepped outside, the morning sun was already thick and heavy. The deafening screech of cicadas echoed eerily through the trees. I flicked a mosquito off my arm, a small prick of blood erupting on my skin. I immediately regretted skipping the bug spray. I hurried toward the nurses’ station to get mosquito repellent when I suddenly froze, my senses sharpening as a silence crept in.
It was almost as if the air had thinned down to this single moment.
And there he was. Running shirtless down the trail, sweat slicking across his chest, gray shorts hanging dangerously low. His muscles flexed with each stride; every step calculated. He yanked off his baseball cap, dragged a towel across his brow, and then shoved his cap back on. My eyes, traitorous and thirsty, followed the sharp cut of his V-line like it was a treasure map I wanted to trace with my tongue.
I shut my eyes, but the image branded itself there anyway.When I opened them again, it was too late. His gaze was locked on mine, and he gave me a shit-eating grin.
Crap.
I nearly ducked behind a bush, but he was already walking toward me, peeling out his AirPods.
“Hey,” he said, his voice rough from the run.
“Hey.” My cheeks burned. He knew. That smirk wasn’t random. Max McKinnon never did anything without intent.
“You’re up early,” he drawled, his breath heavy from his run. I tried not to watch the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.
“I could say the same for you.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” His eyes dragged over me. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
My pulse thrashed. He stepped closer, close enough that I could smell him. He was temptation wrapped in a package made just for me.
“Are you thinking about it?” he asked, not even waiting.
When did Max McKinnon become such a tease?
“No,” I lied, turning my face away.
“I think you are.” His smirk widened.
The air between us snapped tight, electric, the same pull that had been strangling us for years.
“You working hard?” I asked, acknowledging his sweaty body, pretending I wasn’t seconds from ripping his shorts off. “You know—after you gave me a fucking hickey last night.”
I pointed to my neck.
