Page 36 of My Star-Crossed Summer

“Hey,” I say, sitting next to her on the grass. “Looks like your group had a good session.”

She opens her eyes, shielding them from the sun with her hand. “They’re getting the hang of it. Fast learners.”

“It also looks like someone has a little crush.”

“What?” she says, her brow arching.

“Derrick,” I say. “He’s stuck to Priya like glue.”

“Right. That explains a few things. Like why she was wearing his cap yesterday.”

“Happens every session,” I say. “By the end of week one, there’s at least ten camp crushes in full effect.”

“Aww,” she coos. “So cute.”

I shrug. “The magic of summer camp. Time moves faster, and emotions run higher. Instalove.”

“Oh, is that what it is?” she teases.

“I mean, I guess it could be the altitude. Thin air does some weird stuff to you.”

She smacks my arm playfully. “The air’s not that thin up here, Valentine.” The warmth from her hand sends a current of heat straight through my chest, coiling around each rib.

I wish I could hold it there forever.

“Good call, by the way,” I tell her. “On the new activities.”

“There’s plenty more where that one came from,” she says with a smile.

“I have no doubt about that.” Climbing to my feet, I brush the grass from my shirt, and her eyes track the movement.

“You want a hand setting up the lounge before dinner?” She wiggles her toes in the grass as a cloud passes overhead. She looks perfectly content in this moment, like a cat in a sunbeam.

“Nah, I got it,” I tell her. “Take a break. You look like you found your happy place.”

She stretches her arms behind her head and says, “I’m getting there.”

And I have no doubt about that, either. But a growing part of me is hoping that somehow, when this camp is over, her happy place could include me.

Chapter Eleven

VICTORIA

By Friday, I’m finding my rhythm. Today it’s one foot in front of the other, on a loop trail that feels like it’s been entirely uphill for a thousand miles. Noah’s leading our group, Sophie’s somewhere in the middle, and I’m at the back, cursing myself for letting my gym membership lapse. I offered to take this spot so I have an excuse to walk more slowly and hang back with the kids who aren’t charging ahead like little mountain goats.

The joke’s on me, though, because these kids are itching to get to the waterfall, and I’m struggling to keep up with the slowest of the bunch. Keeping my eyes on the trail to watch for roots and snakes means I’ve hardly been able to take in the details of my surroundings. We’re on a densely wooded trail that cuts through evergreens and mountain laurel, and all I want is to stop long enough to soak it all up: I want to trace my fingers over the leaves and touch the big pale pink blossoms. I want to stand in the stillness and listen to the birds twittering in the branches and picture the bright colors of their feathers. I want to close my eyes and feel the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy and falling on my face. But we’re moving so fast that all I canfocus on is the dirt trail in front of me, the space between my feet and the kids up ahead.

Probably, this is an apt metaphor for my lack of work-life balance.

My focus has been too narrow. I’ve been too preoccupied with moving forward, being productive, and making progress—what do those ideas even mean anymore? My work with Rayanne’s realty firm was so fast and frenzied that I forgot how to be unhurried and still. For years, I was focused on building my career: being better and faster than everyone around me, and now those years are a blur.

When did I stop paying attention to all the bits of beauty around me?

I stop by a huge rhododendron with magenta flowers as big as my hands. Tracing the broad leaf with my fingers, I’m mesmerized by the tiny veins in the leaves. The blossom is silk-soft, and when I tip it towards me, I find a sleeping bumblebee inside, at the very center of the blossom. Its body is dusted in yellow pollen, and I move the flower back gently, so I don’t wake it. It’s a surprising delight—one of Noah’s glimmers—something I’d never have noticed in my regular life.

And then a tiny voice in my head says,What if thiswasyour regular life?

Further down the trail, a whistle pierces the air. I jog towards the sound to catch up with the group, and once I’m around a curve in the trail, I see the kids have all stopped. Noah, towering over them, zeroes in on me and cocks his head to the side in a question:You doing okay?

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