Page 78 of The Summer Intern

The mention of Matt's off-road adventures only heightened my sense of inadequacy.Matt was everything I wasn't—confident, capable, at home in the wilderness.What did he even see in me?In five days, the bubble of our summer romance would pop, and reality would set in.The thought made me press the gas harder than intended.

"Whoa, easy!"Oliver yelped as we picked up speed.

Ten miles per hour felt like fifty, and for a second, I felt a flash of something like confidence.I could do this.I could drive to see the man I loved.I could—

"Rock!"Oliver shouted, pointing to a basketball-sized stone at the edge of the clearing."That one will fuck up the undercarriage."

I panicked, jerking the wheel hard to the left instead of gently steering around it.The Prius responded with alarming enthusiasm, skidding slightly on the loose gravel.

"Brake!Gently!"Oliver's knuckles had gone white on the armrest.

I stomped on the brake, and we lurched to a stop.My heart hammered in my chest, blood rushing in my ears.This was ridiculous.I was twenty-two years old with a college degree nearly completed.I could organize LGBTQ+ rallies, debate conservative professors into silence, and handle homophobic trolls online.Yet a simple drive reduced me to a sweating, trembling mess.

"Maybe this was a mistake," I whispered, hands still locked on the wheel.

Oliver exhaled slowly."Casey, you're overthinking it.Driving is mostly muscle memory.You just need practice.And I know the accident you had when you were sixteen was scary, but that old lady you hit was fine."

"She was in a wheelchair!I'm a horrible person," I whined, and I could tell Oliver instantly regretted mentioning the incident that had started all of this.

"It was an accident," he insisted."She came out of nowhere."

"In a wheelchair?"I shrieked, though I was secretly grateful that he was defending me."What if I never get good enough to drive up here?What if—" I swallowed the lump forming in my throat."What if I can only see Matt during holidays?What if he meets someone else who can actually navigate a fucking parking lot?"

There it was—the real fear bubbling up.

Oliver's expression softened slightly."Matt's crazy about you.Anyone with eyes can see that."

"For now," I said, the words bitter in my mouth."But long-distance is different.And I don't know how to do this, Ollie.Any of it."

"You're catastrophizing again," he said, using our mother's favorite therapy-speak."One step at a time.First step: don't hit stationary objects."

I tried to laugh, but it came out as a choked sound.My vision blurred with tears I refused to let fall.Five days left of waking up in Matt's arms, five days of his laugh, his touch, his reassuring presence.Then back to textbooks and lectures and wondering if what we had was strong enough to survive the distance.

"I just can't," I said finally, unbuckling my seatbelt with a shaking hand."I can't do this right now."

"Can't what?Drive?Or think about leaving?"Oliver asked quietly.

I didn't answer, just pushed open the door and climbed out, needing air that wasn't filled with my brother's concerned gaze and the suffocating reminder of my ineptitude.

"Maybe you're just not cut out for driving if a clump of grass flusters you," Oliver called after me, voice edged with exasperation."We can find another way to get you up here."

I kept walking, tears now flowing freely down my cheeks.Behind me, I heard a strange mechanical sound, then Oliver's panicked yelp.

"Fuck!The car!You didn't put it in park!"

I turned just in time to see Oliver sprinting after the slowly rolling Prius, his arms flailing as he raced to catch it before it hit a tree at the edge of the lot.The absurdity of the moment—my careful, methodical brother in full panic mode—would have made me laugh any other time, especially as he yanked open the door and dove inside, his feet still sticking out as he did something to stop the car.

I wiped away tears with the sleeve of my oversized sweater, a thrift-store find that was my favorite, and turned towards the camp lodge, not wanting to wait around for Oliver's safety lecture.I jogged up the stairs to the lodge, wondering if Matt was around.The main hall was empty as campers were all off doing afternoon activities or day hikes.It smelled of pine cleaner and yesterday's coffee, with undertones of the pancakes that had been served at breakfast.I trailed my fingers along the wooden paneling, feeling every groove and knot.

Like everything else about this place, I'd been wrong about the lodge.Wrong about the camp.Wrong about the tall, muscular director with his man bun and easy confidence whom I'd stereotyped as just another straight outdoorsy lumberjack.

Now, months later, the thought of leaving him made my chest physically hurt, like someone had replaced my lungs with concrete.Which was ridiculous.I'd had relationships before.But never one that had peeled back my layers so efficiently, never someone who made me feel both seen and safe.

I paused near the administrative wing, my thoughts interrupted by the sound of voices coming from behind a partially open door.Matt's office.I recognized his deep timbre immediately—clipped and focused, his "director voice" that was so different from the soft, lazy drawl he used in private.

"—can't ignore these numbers, Sutton."Matt's words drifted out."We're running too close to the margin."

I shouldn't eavesdrop.But my feet had already stopped, my body angling unconsciously toward the door.I caught a glimpse through the gap—Matt's broad shoulders hunched over his desk, his hair pulled back severely, Sutton's lanky frame pacing behind him.

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