Page 61 of My Star-Crossed Summer

“That’s okay,” she says. “I know how remote it is there.”

“I know we’re not really a million miles from everything. It just feels that way sometimes.” From the office window, I can see a group of kids outside with their class, heading toward one of the big radio telescopes.

“How are things going?” she asks.

“Honestly, this place is amazing. And you were right—the kids are awesome.” I babble on about all the things I’m loving about camp, and when I finally take a breath, there’s silence on her end. “Roxy?” I ask. She’s quiet for a moment, and for the first time, I think this might not be the good news and job offer that I was hoping for.

“I need to ask you something,” she says, her voice dropping an octave. “And I don’t know how to ask you in a way that isn’t awkward, so I’m just going to say it. Is there something going on with you and Noah?”

My heart leaps into my throat. The whole world freezes.

“What?” Even that one word sounds strangled, like it’s been squeezed from a guilty person.

She sighs. “First, let me say that I’m not trying to shame you or embarrass you. I wanted to talk to you first, and hopefully this conversation goes no further than us, this morning.”

The room feels as hot as the surface of the sun. My stomach is in knots, and it’s hard to breathe. “What’s happening?” I squeak out.

“Sophie just uploaded a big batch of photos to the website,” she says. “They’re from the weekend camping trip—which looked like an incredible time, by the way. The kids look deliriously happy.” She heaves another sigh, and I can hear her clicking the mouse by her computer. “But there are a couple of photos of you and Noah where you both seem close enough that it could raise eyebrows.”

I shake my head, racking my brain and trying to pull up any moment where we touching in public—did someone see us in his tent together?

“I’m hoping this is nothing,” she says, “and if we look at these together, then you can tell me I’m imagining things, and then I don’t have to talk to the director and we can both get on with our day.” She takes a quick breath and says, “Can you access your email right now?”

“Yes,” I tell her. I feel like I’ve swallowed a stone, but I log in to the staff computer and navigate over to my inbox. There’s a chime as Roxy’s message comes through. When I open it, I see the photos that she’s attached. She’s still talking as I study them.

The first photo is from days ago, when we were hiking near the waterfall closer to the institute. The students in the foreground are all beaming—it’s the moment they came off the trail and saw the towering falls and the pools below. But there, in the background, on the rocky slope at the end of the trail, Noah is helping me down, his hands around my waist. The memory of that day is burned into my brain. I’d slipped near the bottom and crashed right into him. Sophie snapped this photo at the precise moment when my hands had landed squarely on his chest, and he’d gripped me tight... and didn’t let go. I have to zoom in to see our faces, but the intensity is hard to miss.

The second photo was taken at the bridge, after Layla had helped me across. When Sophie took this photo, she was focused on the students grinning in the foreground, arms around each other. But in the background, Noah’s holding me in a tight hug after I collapsed against him, full of terror and relief. I zoom in for a closer look, but I remember this moment down to the last detail: my hair was a wind-whipped mess, and I was shaking like a leaf. He’d come over to check on me and I’d thrown my arms around him without even thinking. To most people, we’d just look like two friends. The look on Noah’s face, though—it’s full of love.

I let myself stare for a moment, focus on the tiny creases at the corners of his eyes, the crooked smile and the lone dimple.

Noah can be hard to read, but that expression leaves no room for doubt. Despite what I told Gwen, this doesn’t feel like a camp crush—when I’m with Noah, my heart is full. I can’t ignore these feelings I have for him anymore, and I don’t want to. My heart’s telling me to go for it and take him up on his offer because I’m falling for Noah Valentine—hard.

A smile tugs at my lips, despite the worry that I’m in hot water with Roxy.

“I can explain these,” I offer. “In one, we’d just crossed over that bridge that’s like a million miles off the ground. I was terrified, and one of the kids held my hand to help me across. Noah was worried, and he came over to make sure I was okay. What you see is me after a panic attack and him trying to help.”

“Okay,” she says, but I’m not sure she believes me. Right now, this is Roxy my boss, not Roxy my friend. The thought stings, but I press on.

“In the other one, Noah was helping me down a slippery part of the trail. I lost my footing and crashed right into him.” I take a breath and aim for levity. “I see how that could look…unprofessional, but I swear it’s me being clumsy and him trying to save me from myself.”

A pause. I brace myself for the worst.

“All right,” she says, sounding matter-of-fact. “So nothing you need to disclose here? Because they’re dead serious about the no-fraternizing rule, and if that’s happening, then we need to have a different conversation.”

This is the moment where I should tell her. I know it, but as the seconds tick by, I feel more anxious, more afraid, and more uncertain. I don’t want to get Noah in trouble, and I don’t want to let Roxy down. But I also don’t want to feel this embarrassment and shame. The people-pleaser in me is caving in on herself because all of this feels like I’m being dressed down for doing something wrong—andbad.

“Noah and I are old friends,” I tell her, settling for mostly-true. “We went to college together.”

“What?” she says. “I met all your old college friends. I never met Noah.”

“He was in my pre-Roxy era,” I explain. “It’s a long story that I’ll tell you over a bottle of wine sometime. But we were very close, and then we had this falling out and never talked again. It was stupid. But he was my best friend.”

She chuffs. “You mean your pre-Roxy best friend.”

I chuckle at her teasing, so grateful to hear it. “Obviously.”

“Huh,” she says. “You’re like as opposite as two people can be.”

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