Page 66 of My Star-Crossed Summer

“What about it?” he says, untangling the bundle of white fairy lights. He frowns, trying to find the end of the string.

I sigh. He’s not going to make this easy.

“I misspoke. I probably came off cold, and I didn’t mean to. This whole situation just has me panicked.” I grab the other end of the strand and try to free it from the mass of lights, but every move I make gets them more tangled. “I’m trying to do the right thing here for both of us. But maybe I’m kidding myself. Maybe I should just suck it up and do the thing I’m good at and stop reaching for something else,” I tell him. “Take the job in Florida and stay in my lane.” The words taste bitter in my mouth.

He frowns. “What job in Florida?”

“That call yesterday. A real estate agent I knew back home offered me a job with her new firm in Pensacola.”

His brow lifts in that way that means he’s part surprised and a little hurt. “Is that really what you want? I thought you were done with real estate.”

“She’s a huge deal. Working for her would make my career.” We fumble with the lights, and when his hand brushes over my arm, his gaze snaps to mine. “I feel like I should do it,” I grit out. “I mean, Diana can be hard to work with—The Devil Wears Pradahas nothing on her—but at least that’s a job I know how to do well.” I shrug. “Plus, it would solve my money problems. It’s the smart move.”

“But it’s not what you love.” His tone is cool.

“It’s a top real estate firm,” I tell him. “I’d be foolish to turn down a boat load of money.”

He sighs, raking his hand through his hair. Just when he starts to speak, he bites his lip, like he’s holding back a tidal wave of thoughts.

“What?” I ask.

He leans closer, pinning me with his gaze. The disappointment in his eyes guts me. “I think you’re giving up on this too soon. It’s like you’re looking for reasons to go back to the work that makes you feel hollow.”

“That’s not fair.” I can feel the blood rising in my cheeks, because he’s not entirely wrong. Diana’s the safe choice, the devil I know. If Roxy were to offer me a full time job with the camp—and that’s a massiveif—then it’s still a leap that I’m not sure I’m ready for. There’s safety in the familiar, even iffamiliardoesn’t light me up.

He shakes his head. “Someone’s dangling this shiny thing in front of you, but it’s a distraction. It’s not the thing you need.”

I grit my teeth, tugging at the lights and feeling nothing but tension. He huffs as I pull him off-balance, and we both move our arms above our heads in opposite directions, the little bulbs tinkling in the space between us. We’re trapped in a web of lights now, getting more tangled by the minute.

“How would you know what I need?” I snap.

His brow lifts. “Because youtoldme, Vic.” His voice is calm, but stern. “You told me you wanted something that brings you joy and gives you purpose—something that excites you. Why do you think you don’t deserve that?”

“It’s not that simple,” I say. “I can’t keep waiting for something that might not happen. What if this is the best offer I get?”

“What if something better is right around the corner?” he says. “Or right in the palm of your hand?”

Heat creeps into my cheeks because he’s not just talking about a job anymore, and now I see I’ve done the very thing I wanted to avoid: I’ve entangled my feelings for working here with my feelings for Noah. Now it’s hard to imagine one without the other—and it’s difficult to say which has the tighter hold on my heart.

And both feel like a risk I’m not quite ready to take.

He tugs on the strand of lights, pulling me closer. “You’re selling yourself short. Settling for something that isn’t what you really want. It kills me to watch you do that.”

I tug right back, but there’s a knot in the bundle of lights left between us. “I’m not something you need to fix, Noah.”

“This isn’t about fixing.” He steps closer, his eyes smoldering. “You can do so much better. Youdeservebetter.” His jaw tenses as he stares down at me through those ridiculously thick lashes. I’m close enough to smell that spicy-woodsy scent that’s all Noah, to see the faint freckles across his cheeks. Being this closejust reminds me of lying next to him in his tent, so close that I could see that adorable crooked smile in the moonlight.

He’s not smiling now, but his pupils widen as if he’s thinking of that moment, too. And the kiss that came after. His lips part, just barely, and his brows pinch together as his eyes burn into mine.

My heart hammers in my chest. It’s infuriating how he can make words that seem so demanding sound so protective.

“This summer has been amazing,” I tell him, which is absolutely true. “The kids have been a joy. It’s been exactly the kind of break I needed from all the chaos in my life, but it’s time to get back to reality.”

He frowns, that muscle in his jaw tensing. “This hasn’t felt real to you?”

“Summer camp is this weird dreamlike state,” I tell him. “It’s an escape from your regular life, where you can remake yourself into a different version of who you are for a little while. But when it’s over, you go back to your regular life.” I give him a small shrug. “It’s felt real in the way that dreams feel real—just before you wake up.”

His head dips closer to mine. “Who says you can’t have everything you dream of?” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “Who told you that lie, sweetheart?”

---