Page 58 of My Star-Crossed Summer

One more week, I tell myself.You got this.

Chapter Seventeen

VICTORIA

For six more days, Noah Valentine is off-limits. I shouldn’t stare at him, I shouldn’t touch him, and I definitely shouldn’t imagine kissing him again.

So far, I’m failing at all three. Tonight at dinner, his knee brushed against mine under the table and when we locked eyes it was hot enough to burn that room to ash. One simple touch made me replay everything that had happened in his tent and imagine all the ways we might pick that up later. Off the mountain, of course.

But still. Boundaries. That’s why I called Gwen right after, because she’s become an expert on boundaries and I need her to tell me I’m being reckless and impulsive, and help rein me in.

When I tell her about the camping trip, she sighs and says, “Tell me about that kiss again. And don’t leave anything out this time.”

The kids have a half-hour of free time before we start movie night. I’m pacing under the cell phone tree, which is still the best spot for privacy—though it’s not the best place to convince myself that I can get through these next few days without losing my mind over what might come after.

Specifically, what happens with Noah.

“Was there tongue?” Gwen says, her voice deepening. “Was it just as hot as you imagined?”

“I can’t do this,” I tell her, looking around to make sure there’s no one lurking in the bushes. Only Sophie and Noah know about the cell phone tree, but they’re the last people who need to hear any snippets of this conversation. We’ve got twenty-four minutes of free time before the movie starts and I need a game plan to get through the rest of this session because my intrusive thoughts are in overdrive. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” I tell her. “It was irresponsible.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Gwen says. “It’s summer camp. Have fun. You’re allowed to relax a little, too, you know.”

“It’s camp for thekids,” I argue. “No fraternizing. That rule was super clear.” That was a crisp line in the sand, and I danced right over it when I went into Noah’s tent last night. If anyone had seen us, it would have been a disaster. I’ve imagined having to explain myself to Roxy a thousand times, and I hate that sinking feeling that settles in my gut whenever I think about it. It’s that nauseating feeling that goes hand in hand with failure. And Roxy’s the last person I want to let down.

Was the kiss amazing? Better than. But that’s beside the point.

Gwen sighs, and I know she’s twirling one of those big loose curls of hers in her thumb and index finger, like she always does when she’s deep in thought. “If you’re asking me to shame you, it’s not going to happen.”

“It’s not that,” I answer.

“Then stop punishing yourself,” she says. “You don’t deserve it.”

“I’m not,” I mutter.

“Aren’t you?” she says. “People make mistakes. It’s how we grow. Not that I’m saying kissing him was a mistake.”

My heart leapt into my throat when Noah suggested getting together when camp was over—but is that feasible? He’s settled, with a home near Charleston and a job he adores, and I’m rolling through life like a tumbleweed. It doesn’t feel like the right time.

That ever-helpful little voice in my head pipes up to say,But what if it’s the only time?

Is there ever a right time?

“He wants to date,” I blurt. “When camp’s over, and we’re back home.”

“Oh my gawd,” she gasps. “Did he actually use the worddate? That is so freaking cute.” She inhales sharply. “Wait. You sound worried.”

“I’m just afraid it’s not real,” I tell her. “What if it’s just a summer camp crush?”

“Does it feel as simple as a crush?” Gwen says.

I pick at the bark on the big blue-green evergreen limb that hangs over me like a canopy. “Maybe I’m just feeling…this way…about Noah because we’re here in the camp bubble, where everything’s fun and magical and the real world is a million miles away. Along with our history.”

She hums like she doesn’t believe that for a second. “Or maybe,” she says, “you don’t want to risk your heart again yet. That’s fair, you know, after he-who-shall-not-be-named. But don’t pretend your feelings aren’t real, Vic.”

“I like this job,” I tell her. “I love working with the kids, and I’m even getting used to being in the woods.” I slide my fingers over the rough bark of the fir tree. “I want to do something different with my life, and this is all so inspiring and exhilarating—but it makes me wonder if I’m confusing those feelings with how I feel about Noah.”

She hums. “I don’t think I follow.”

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