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“As our relationship progressed, Jeremy became sensitive to how close Lucas and I were. Not that we were that close after the incident at camp. But things changed between the three of us. After graduation, Lucas went off to college. As far as I know, he’s only come back twice—once for our wedding, and then for the funeral.” I close my eyes. “We haven’t spoken since. At least, not until I saw him on Monday.”
“I’m so sorry,” she says softly. “I had no idea. No wonder seeing him is hard, especially with that chemistry—” She blanches. “I mean chemistry like old friends. It’s just, um, obvious you guys have a shared language. Shit, I’m shutting up now.”
I force a smile. “It’s okay. I get it.”
The server returns with our food, and Zoey, in her sensitive way, shifts the conversation away from emotional landmines for the rest of the meal.
But the damage is done. As much as I’d like for it not to be true, she’s right. Lucas and I have chemistry. Not the kind Jeremy and I had, which was loving, trusting, and warm as sunlight.
We have the kind of chemistry that science teachers warn you about.
The explosive kind.
After dinner, I tell Zoey I have a headache. We both know I’m lying, but she lets me off the hook. I head home and try to relax, flipping channels for a while, but eventually, I give up and crawl into bed.
Emotionally exhausted but not tired in the least, I surrender to the tug of the past and relive that disastrous—perfect, extraordinary—night at Wild Lake.
I’d snuck Lucas a note during dinner when Jeremy was still in line for food, telling him where and when to meet me, underlining the word alone three times. He read the note at least twice before looking up, and what I saw in his eyes as he nodded made my stomach nosedive.
It was a long three hours until lights out, an even longer forty-five minutes until I crept from my cabin. I avoided the paths patrolled by the older counselors, instead taking the longer route to the lake through the trees. I’d done it so many times that I could probably walk it blindfolded. Good thing, too, because I could barely feel my feet on the ground.
The night was unseasonably warm, one of those following a day where everyone sported a sunburn and we spent every spare minute in the lake. Night swimming was strictly forbidden, but we’d never cared about the rules. And we were smart enough to not get caught.
I finally stepped through the last line of trees before our tiny cove. Away from the main stretch of water the camp utilized, this was the place we’d been coming to since we were kids.
He was already there. Shirtless, in swim trunks, and wet from a swim. My limbs tingled. I couldn’t believe I was doing this.
“Celeste.”
My footsteps faltered at the sound of my name. He hadn’t called me anything but Peapod in years.
“H-hi,” I stammered. “Thanks for meeting me.”
He nodded, taking a few steps toward me. “I had to lie to Jeremy and tell him I was meeting a girl to keep him from coming—a different girl, obviously. What did you want to tell me that’s so important?”
My throat closed. “Can we swim first?” I squeaked.
His head cocked to the side. “Are you okay?”
“Yep.” Before I lost my nerve, I pulled off the dress concealing my new—and first ever—bikini and tossed it over a log.
Notice me. Not the girl. The woman.
He did.
“What the hell are you wearing?” he barked.
“A bathing suit, dumbass.”
My voice didn’t sound like mine, and I could feel his focus intensify. It had always been that way for me—knowing when he was near or watching me. Sometimes, I was convinced I knew when he was thinking about me.
Ignoring my pounding heart, I picked my way over rocks toward him. He was blocking the path into the lake, so I stopped and looked up. His gaze flickered down, searing my bare skin, my small breasts, the curve of my hips. He dragged both hands over his face, then peered at me over his fingers.
“Me?” he asked.
My heart ricocheted into my throat. “You,” I whispered.
His eyes closed, shoulders dropping in either resignation or relief.
