Page 44 of My Star-Crossed Summer

“You’re all set,” he says. “Achievement unlocked.”

“I might have to curl up like a cat to fit inside that thing.” Somehow it looks smaller now that it’s put together properly. “How is it possible to fit two people in one of these without being twisted up like pretzels?”

His brow lifts as a bit of pink creeps into his cheeks, and now I’m thinking of being tangled up with him and feeling all those chiseled muscles pressing against mine. This is bad. Very bad.

A whistle splits the air, and Sophie yells, “Gather ‘round, campers!”

Noah turns to where the kids are gathering, but before he heads toward them, he flashes his deadly smirk and says, “Two people fit just fine.”

The trail is well-maintained,wide enough to walk two abreast. Birds chatter in the evergreens that tower above us. The rhododendron and laurel are heavy with blooms, their broad leaves dappling us in shade. Noah’s in the lead again, but this time I’m in the middle of the group, with Sophie at the back. Layla and Priya are on either side of me, telling me all about the research project they’re working on this week. Talking about it lights them up and makes me wonder: when’s the last time my work made me feel excited to dive in? When’s the last time I felt passion for what I was doing?

I was great at my job in real estate—it was a kind of problem-solving that comes naturally to me, and it was satisfying to help people find their dream homes. But did it light me up? No. Did it make me excited to get out of bed each morning? Not really. It made me feel like I was successful, though, like I’d found something I was good at and could make a living with. After ending things with Theo, I realized I’d been telling myself that I was happy—that Ishould behappy—because I had a good job, could save money, had made my parents proud.

But I wasn’t proud of myself. I was afraid to think too hard about what it meant if I stopped doing the work that made my parents proud of me. Who was I if not the scrappy real estate agent, the successful daughter with the solid ten-year plan and the healthy 401(k)? Who was I, if I wasn’t chasing down my next big milestone?

Deep down, I’d felt like an imposter for a long time. After college, I’d run back home from Charleston and taken the path my mother wanted me to take. I’d kept telling myselfFake it till you make it, but that just left me feeling…well, fake.

I’ve been operating on autopilot for so long that I lost track of what I want most. It’s buried deep somewhere in a corner of my heart, under the crushing weight of everyone’s expectations. But being here is showing me how I might be able to lift that weight.

“You have to come visit me in Atlanta,” Layla says to Priya. Ever since she found out that Priya’s aunt and uncle live in her hometown, the two have been cooking up plans to see each other after camp.

“My parents have scheduled my whole summer,” Priya tells her. “After this, it’s soccer camp. Then it’s engineering camp, and then violin camp. My mom says it’s important to be well-rounded.” She rolls her eyes. “Even though I don’t like sports and I’m tone-deaf.”

“Yikes,” Layla says. “The only other one I go to is theater camp. But my parents are sending me to Japan for two weeks in August to visit my grandparents.”

“I’d love to do theater camp,” Priya says. “But my mom would never let me.”

“I’ll sneak you in,” Layla says. “Just skip soccer camp and come stay with me.”

“My mom would kill me,” Priya says. “For real.”

“She’s on another continent!” Layla says. “She never has to know.”

“My parents are in Italy for the summer,” Priya tells me, a sad note in her voice.

“Well, I’m really glad you’re here with us,” I tell her, and she gives me a genuine smile that makes me wonder how often she hears those words.

“And we’re really glad you’re here,” Layla tells me.

“Yeah,” Priya echoes. She plucks a small white flower from the trail and sticks it behind her ear.

“Why’s that?” I ask.

Layla shrugs. “You make it seem like you don’t have to be good at everything to still be amazing.”

I’m stunned speechless. Here I thought these kids would be cataloguing my failures, thinking my being here was some colossal joke. I’ve been so fixated on what I’m doing wrong that I hadn’t imagined what I could be doing right.

Maybe I’ve been doing that even longer than I can remember.

They’ve moved on to telling me a story about Derrick getting poison ivy in an unfortunate location when we come to a set of steps leading up. Just like the other trail, these are made from weathered railroad ties and look like they’ve been here for a hundred years. My thighs are burning by the time we reach the top, where there’s a small clearing in the laurels. I pause to catch my breath, taking in the panoramic view from the top of the ridge. It’s gorgeous up here, with the deep greens of the trees in the gorge below and the bright blue sky above. Noah’s standing with the kids from the front of the group, gathered on a wooden platform. Priya and Layla gasp and hurry toward it, chattering with delight. I’m still trying to catch my breath when Sophie comes up behind me with the last few kids. They all scramble down to where Noah stands and Sophie gives my shoulder a nudge.

“This is the best part,” she says. “Get ready to have your mind blown.”

I follow her to where Noah’s gathered the kids, wondering what on earth is about to happen on that platform.

Then I see what has everyone so captivated.

I’ve been to the Smokies before, and I’ve seen some stunning panoramic views of the mountains. But this takes my breath away. To our left, the mountains undulate like waves, shades ofblue and green that seem unearthly. There’s a scattering of puffy white clouds, and the sky feels impossibly wide. I turn slowly, taking in the endless bursts of white and pink from the laurels, and when my gaze rests on Noah, he’s grinning like he’s just discovered that these mountains exist.

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