“I’m good at a lot of things.”
She didn’t look surprised. She licked her lips, her eyes fluttering closed. I tilted my forehead against hers, and she moved hers against mine.
“Jamie,” she breathed. A moth flew up between us, hovering at her porch light. Neither of us moved, unable to be taken out of the moment.
“What is it, beautiful?”
She pulled her head away from me and stared into my eyes. “I…” Her pained expression filled me with dread. “I can’t.”
“I know. I’m sorry—” I tried, failing to recover.
That lit a fire in her, and instantly, I knew it was a mistake. “Sorry? You’re sorry.”
I backpedaled. “I didn’t mean it, Autumn. It’s that whole situation, and the night and…”
“Please give me more excuses for why you don’t want to kiss me.”
“Can we take a step back?” I asked. She nodded and backed away from me. “No, Autumn, wait—”
“Let’s just act like it didn’t happen, Jamie.”
There was a double meaning to her words, and our almost-kiss tonight wasn’t the reason they were laced with venom. She sniffed, rubbing the back of her hand over her mouth, and shook her head. Then she turned and walked away, typing a code into her door and closing it behind her.
I stared at it, as if that could change my circumstances, wishing I could do something, wondering if I should just take that step and knock. To fix this. But I didn’t. I didn’t even know how.
Shit, it was official. I was being thoughtless, and it was affecting another person. Someone I didn’t want to hurt again. And I had the whole walk back to my pod to ruminate on this.
The fire was out, but some campers were still away from the vicinity. All the lights were out except for Lamar’s, and it felt especially quiet, probably a cosmic sign that I needed to sit in the mess I made. Thoughts of my failure were interrupted when I heard a small giggle next to my cabin.
I stopped in my tracks, tilting my head to see where it came from.
It looked like someone had the same idea I’d had in mind before being kicked to the curb. Maybe this place was rubbing off on me, but I couldn’t help it. It was dark as hell, but I still had to see.
That was when I recognized camp counselor Nat’s long French braids, her perfectly manicured pink fingernails running through my fellow podmate’s distinct short red hair.
I did a double take. It couldn’t be true.
Clear as day, there was Jack’s girlfriend with her tongue down Nat’s throat.
To call tonight a clusterfuck would be an understatement.
