Page 65 of The Summer Intern

I shrugged, the motion bumping his arm higher around my shoulders."I just showed them some chords."

"Bullshit."His grin took any sting from the word."I saw how you worked with them.Even that kid—what's his name?The one who kept saying he was going to quit?"

"Tyler," I supplied, remembering the lanky fourteen-year-old who'd stormed out of three consecutive lessons before something clicked."He's got talent.Just needed to get out of his own way."

"And who helped him do that?"Matt squeezed my shoulder."You did.You don't give yourself enough credit."

I tucked a stray lock of my hair behind my ear, hoping the firelight would hide the heat I felt rising to my cheeks.My most recent dye job was a soft, cotton candy shade of pink, and I think I liked that best.

I hadn't expected to care this much—about the camp, about the kids.About Matt.I'd taken the summer job for the paycheck and the experience on my resume.But somewhere between arrival day and now, things had shifted.Tyler's face when he nailed that difficult chord progression.The shy girl who'd found her voice through songwriting.The impromptu jam sessions that broke out on rainy afternoons.

Matt, waiting up for me on nights when I stayed late in the arts center, helping students practice.

"You're doing it again," Matt said.

"What?"

"Thinking too loud."His thumb resumed its gentle stroke against my sweater."I can practically hear the gears grinding."

A distant peal of laughter floated across the grounds from the direction of the dormitories.The counselors would be settling the campers in for the night, checking bunks, collecting contraband candy, shushing the inevitable whispers.Camp routine—predictable, structured.Unlike whatever this was between Matt and me.

"Just thinking about my students," I admitted."They surprised me."

"And you surprised yourself?"

I shot him a look."Don't push it, Blackstone."

He laughed, the sound mingling with the crackle of burning logs.His arm tightened around me, and I found myself relaxing into his side, my defenses lowering inch by cautious inch.I didn't know why I was so afraid to admit that this was good, that it felt right.And I really didn't understand why he was so patient with me, but I had a feeling it was just in his nature.Matt saw people–—really saw them, flaws and secrets and all.

The fire had burned down considerably, the massive logs now glowing red beneath a coat of silvery ash.Only a few small flames still danced along the edges.The heat reached out to us in waves, keeping the mountain night's chill at bay.My hand somehow found its way to rest against Matt's on the bench between us, our fingers not quite intertwined but definitely touching.My pinky overlapped his index finger; his thumb settled against my wrist.

"The night sky here still gets to me," Matt said, tilting his head back to look up at the stars."Even after all these years."

I followed his gaze.Without the light pollution of the city, the stars spread above us in impossible profusion, a spray of distant suns against velvet blackness.The Milky Way stretched across the heavens, a river of light.

"It makes me feel small," I admitted, the words slipping out before I could censor them.

"In a good way or bad way?"

I considered this, feeling the gentle pressure of his thumb now stroking the sensitive skin of my inner wrist."Both, I guess.Reminds me that my problems don't matter much in the grand scheme."

"They matter to me," Matt said, so quietly I almost missed it beneath the fire's dying crackle.

Something caught in my throat—emotion or maybe just smoke.I swallowed it down.

"You're getting dangerously close to sentimental," I warned, but my voice lacked its usual edge.

"Can't have that," he agreed, eyes crinkling at the corners.

We sat in silence for a while, listening to the fire consume the last of its fuel.The bench beneath us seemed to have shrunk, bringing Matt's body closer to mine—or maybe I'd just stopped fighting the pull between us.His warmth, his steady presence beside me, felt like an anchor in waters I was still learning to navigate.

Matt's fingers traced idle patterns on my shoulder, and I felt myself relaxing further, my perpetual defensiveness softening under his touch.I didn't need my armor here, not with him.The realization was terrifying and comforting all at once.

"Fire's almost out," Matt observed, his voice a low rumble against my side.

"Mmm," I agreed, making no move to pull away."Guess we'll have to go soon."

Neither of us moved, even as the fire dwindled to nothing but embers now, their orange glow barely pushing back the darkness that pressed in from the surrounding woods.I shifted against Matt, uncomfortable in my own skin.The night air had cooled, but that wasn't what made me draw my knees up to my chest and pick nervously at a loose thread on my sweater.Time was slipping away—session two ended in just days—and whatever this thing was between us hung in limbo, undefined and terrifying.And Matt just waited.

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