She faces our audience of two. Brooks towering next to his tent, hands stuffed into the pocket at the front of his sweater, hood up against the wind, eyeing me curiously. Summer, arms crossed tight over her chest. Staring like she can barely believe Mel’s there, as though they haven’t just spent a two-hour car ride together.
“Are the tent assignments final?” Mel asks.
I finally rise. She doesn’t turn, and there are a good couple feet between us, but she feels me behind her and her shoulders immediately stiffen. Inch toward her ears. It stings. But I move a few steps away, giving her space.
Brooks’s gaze drifts in my direction in the wake of Mel’s question, clearly sensing the tension, though he doesn’t have any context to go off of. He raises his eyebrows.
You want a way out of this?he’s silently asking me.
Do I?
It’s clear she wants nothing to do with this sleeping arrangement. With me, altogether. But if she’s really moved home, we’re going to have to air things out.
I’m going to have to explain myself. Without the audience.
With my eyes on Brooks, I shake my head.
“Ours is final,” he announces. “Isn’t that right, Sum?”
“We can—”
“Nope,” he cuts her off and throws an arm around her shoulders. Gives her an obnoxiously cheerful smile. “I’ve got my heart set on you, hun. You know Zac’s a terrible spooner.”
Summer immediately shrugs off his arm, giving him a funny look. Thankfully, she doesn’t argue.
“Well, that’s settled, then,” I say, clapping my hands together. Quietly, I add: “Looks like you’re stuck with me, Clover.”
“Don’t call me that.”
She mutters it under her breath, only for me to hear. Doesn’t even look at me. But she doesn’t need to. The hushed disdain in her voice conveys exactly how much she means it. That the nickname no one’s ever used but me isn’t going to fly anymore.
I deserve that, after what I did to her. The way I left her that night. The way I never reached out, didn’t go to her until I finally cracked, five years later. Five years ago. Only to find her holding hands with him. The lucky fucker who was smart enough to see what he had in front of him. Who didn’t screw it up.
I don’t deserve to use that nickname.
Mel’s shoulders rise all the way with the force of her inhale. “Okay.” She nods, head turning to survey the campsite before her. “Okay, I guess this is happening.”
Hitching her backpack up over her shoulder, she swerves past me and disappears into our tent. The rest of us stare at each other in dumb silence. If it wasn’t for the quiet rustling behind me, I’d put money on a mutual hallucination.
I converge on Summer, and I’m so focused on her face that I don’t notice the firepit until I’m stumbling into it, almost losing my footing. Brooks snickers, but I don’t have it in me to care.
“What the hell, Summer?” I say tightly, peeking over my shoulder to check Mel’s safely tucked into our tent. This won’t be a fully private conversation, but the wind is loud enough to give us some coverage. “How do you just spring this on me? On—on all of us.”
Brooks looks at me curiously. “You know her?”
“Yeah, she was… She’s Parker’s twin. We were all in the same grade.”
“I didn’t think you’d mind if she came,” Summer says, scanning me. “You’re always asking for news about her.”
She’s exaggerating. I only ask once in a while.
Every couple days, when not knowing how she’s doing starts to feel unbearable.
“You look like you’re verging on some kind of aneurysm,” Summer tells me now. “Anything you need to tell us?”
What do I need to tell them?
Last time I saw her, she made a move on me and I fumbled it.