Page 41 of My Star-Crossed Summer

I also know that shutting down all my thoughts about Victoria is impossible. We’re barely one week into the session, and I’m coming undone.

“You’re in your very own second-chance romance!” Hannah cries, and we’re back to making my ears ring. “I always liked her. I was so sad when things ended between you two.”

“Hannah,” I scoff. “It’s not that. Not even close.” But the words sound false even to my ears because this weird, tangled feeling in my chest feels a lot like hope.

Hope that we might try again.

She hums and says, “That’s what they all say in act one.” Then her voice drops an octave, and she says, “But you need to put your fence-mending pants on because you broke her heart.”

“Hey, whose side are you on here?”

She huffs. “It was obvious to everyone—except you, for some reason—that Victoria was completely in love with you. Big-time.”

“It was?” I always knew she liked me—maybe loved me in the way that good friends do. But it wasn’t until she kissed me on that beach that I ever let myself believe it could be more. But then she acted like it had been a mistake, and that was far easier to believe.

Hannah groans, and I can practically hear her eye roll. “Noah,” she drawls. “She went on trips with you. She gave you birthday presents. She came home with you to meet us for my birthday that year.”

“We were best friends,” I tell her. “That’s what best friends do.”

She sighs. “And then she finally got up the courage to kiss you, and you left the country with another girl.”

I never should have told Hannah all of those details.

“You broke her heart, dummy,” she says. “But now you get to fix it.” I can hear her typing on a keyboard, which means she’s at work. “So what’s your big romantic gesture going to be?”

“Hannah,” I plead. “I can’t think about that right now. We’re working together. I’m practically her supervisor.”

“Oooooh,” she says. “Forbidden love is the best.”

“Stop. Go back to your dukes and duchesses. Forget I said anything.”

“You can do it, my dude. I believe in you.”

I smash my palm against my forehead. It was a mistake to mention Victoria, but it slipped out like a piece of gossip at the grocery store. Hannah makes it impossible to hide anything from her. Why she went into IT instead of espionage is beyond me.

“How is she even there?” Hannah says. “Is she one of the instructors?”

“No, she’s on staff. Like me.” I relay only the broad strokes that Vic’s told me about wanting to try something new andtaking this job on a whim. The rest I keep to myself because it’s not my story to share.

My sister lets out a long whistle. “That’s the universe working big-time. Think of all the pieces it had to move to get you two together on that mountain.”

“Hannah,” I groan.

“Noah,” she groans back. “Why can’t you accept this as the gift that is is?” She’s always talking about harnessing the power of the universe and teaching it to conspireforme. All that woo seems to work great for her, but when it comes to me, I think the universe is holding a grudge.

“Because I feel like I’m having the world’s longest panic attack?” Even as I say the words, my chest tightens, and my throat starts to close up. All week, I’ve been trying to keep it together and think of Victoria as just another co-worker. Like Sophie. Like every other person I’ve worked with at these camps.

But that’s not working. Every time I see Vic, I’m pulled back to the time when we were so close that we told each other all of our secrets. When we spent every evening together, sharing our dreams and fears. When I thought nothing could ever tear us apart.

That closeness I felt with her? I’ve never felt it with anyone since.

And when she fell into my arms at the waterfall? When she sat in her pajamas in the dark and told me about her big fear of never being good enough? I wanted to fold her into my arms and never let her go.

“You should talk more,” Hannah says. “I think you two still have a lot of things unsaid.”

Understatement of the decade,I think. But what I tell her is, “That feels wildly unprofessional.” I pace under the tree, wishing there was an easy solution here that didn’t involve digging up lots of hurt feelings. I mean, should we talk about whathappened between us? Probably. Should we talk about it here, secluded in the woods where we have to continue to get along and not want to use each other for bear bait? Definitely not.

“Here’s what I think,” she says, and I can tell from her voice that she’s shifted into problem-solving mode. “You need to rip this Band-Aid off and lay it all on the line. Tell her how you felt then, how you feel now, and stop waiting for the right time. Because, spoiler alert: there is no right time. There is now, and there is too late.”

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