Page 17 of My Star-Crossed Summer

Right now, it feels like there’s a dagger lodged in my chest, but I can’t tell which hurts worse: the fact that Noah has agirlfriendor the fact that he hid her from me.

Or the fact that they’ve made plans together. Post-graduation plans.

“I honestly didn’t know how to tell you without it being awkward,” he says. “And it just never came up.”

I feel sick. “But we tell each other everything.”

He lifts a brow. “Do we?”

My cheeks burn at the pointed question, and now I can’t get away from him fast enough. Because yes, I’ve been keeping my feelings secret, too. “Sorry,” I tell him. “I just got caught up in the moment. Nothing more.” But that’s a lie. I’ve wanted this for so many months now and was just afraid to tell him. Afraid he wouldn’t feel the same.

Afraid he’d look at me the way he is now, with this exact pained expression as he crushed my heart. Because he doesn’t share my feelings.

And he never will.

I scramble off of him, but he catches my hand. “Wait,” he says. “Don’t go.”

“I definitely should go,” I tell him, because I’m about two seconds away from falling apart. Can you die from humiliation? I think yes. And I have no one to blame but myself because I waited too long to say something—dosomething. And now I’ve missed my chance. Because now he has Samantha, and they have plans.

And the way he’s looking at me now—withpity—I can’t take it.

My throat feels like it’s closing up. There’s no undoing this moment. There’s no going back to how we were before.

“Please, Vic,” he says, getting to his feet to follow me. “Don’t leave like this. Just talk to me.”

But I’m already walking back toward the beach house, the sand biting at my bare feet, my lip still tingling from that kiss that—for one moment—cracked my heart wide open.

“Did you hear me, Victoria?”Sophie’s voice yanks me back to the present where there is no beach, no Noah, and no heart-stopping kiss. It’s just Sophie and me sitting at a table on the far side of the cafeteria, her big binder of plans resting between us.

“Sorry,” I say, my voice raspy. “Didn’t sleep that well. I’m listening.” I reach for my coffee and take a big gulp. It tastes like actual dirt, but it’ll have to do.

Sophie arches her brow. “Not a morning person,” she says with a teasing grin. “Noted.”

“I’ll be better in a couple of days. Promise.” I shake my head, trying to knock those memories of Noah out of my brain. It’s been ages since I thought about that night on the beach, but the conversation we had last night has made the memory come back vivid and fierce. I feel like I’m blushing all the way down to my new boots, and my body shivers as if he’s just stepped away and left me cold.

Get it together, I scold myself. I can’t think about Noah’s strong hands or his fiery kisses, and I sure as heck shouldn’t be dreaming about him. If compartmentalizing were a sport, I’d have a wall full of gold medals. Now I need to shove all of these feelings for Noah into a neat little box, as far from my summer camp box as possible.

As if summoned by my scorching memory, Noah strides over to our table, carrying a mug of coffee and a bagel. Dressed indark jeans and a button-up green shirt that seem tailor-made for him, he’s the epitome of mountain-man cool. When he sits in the chair across from me, I try to ignore his rumpled hair and scruffy jaw, willing myself to forget how they once felt against my skin.

My body, though, does not want to forget. It wants to catalogue every detail all over again and then play that memory on an endless loop like some lovesick fool.

He bites into the bagel and then licks a bit of cream cheese from his thumb, his eyes flicking to mine. He holds my gaze with an intensity that makes me wonder if he’s somehow able to read my mind. A furious blush races to the tips of my ears, and I chug more of my horrible coffee to distract myself from the flick of his tongue.

Pretending we don’t know each other is one thing. Pretending our past never happened is impossible—and my brain seems to want to remind me of that every chance it gets.

As much as I regret the way our friendship ended, I don’t regret everything that came before. I don’t want to forget how Noah once made me feel so seen. So valued. So loved. Everything that I didn’t have growing up Griffin.

I would, however, like to wipe everything that happened post-kiss from my memory because that moment was the first and only time that I felt like I wasn’t enough for him.

And that feeling was the worst part of the whole debacle, by far.

Reaching for my toast, I shove all thoughts of Noah’s lips and tongue way down deep, where they belong. Down in the fossil record, a million miles from here. Roxy doesn’t have a lot of rules for this camp, but canoodling with your co-workers definitely breaks at least two of them—that’s front and center in thestaff rulessection of the camp manual, highlighted for extra emphasis. Not that there’s any chance of canoodling with Noah.That ship sailed a long time ago. Then it crashed into rocks and sank to the bottom of the ocean.

There is no more Noah and Victoria, and never will be again. So he really needs to stop looking at me like I’m a puzzle he wants to solve.

And he needs to stop licking his thumb.

“As of right now, all flights are on schedule,” Sophie says, pen tapping on the table. She has a checklist for everything, including today’s airport runs. “Half the kids’ flights will be in by noon, and the rest by three. If anyone gets delayed, I can make the third run and let y’all stay here.” Her welcome strategy is simple: she’ll stay on site to greet the kids who arrive by car while Noah and I shuttle campers from the airport. We’ll drive separately, a couple of hours apart, and have all the kids back by four-thirty this afternoon. Then it’s dinner, orientation, and a night of goofy icebreakers and games to get the kids settled. This packed schedule should be enough to occupy my brain and leave it no space to devote to Noah and his smoldering gazes and lopsided smiles.

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