Chapter 4
MAX
She was acting off. Way off. I looked different, sure, but Mackenzie? She was the type who didn’t give a damn about appearances. Or so I thought.
The second our eyes met, she couldn’t hold my gaze. It was making me feel insecure. We’d never had problems communicating or hanging out together. I didn’t know why that had suddenly changed. It was like she was nervous about being around me, or something.
We hit the cabin. The air was thick between us. Bunk beds lined the walls, each tagged with names. When we reached the back, I saw it before she did. A private alcove: one bunk bed in the middle corner of the room, a window on the far left, and a tiny bathroom off to the side.
My brain spun, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
We had our own room for the entire summer.
Private. Really private.
Of fucking course.
We had a bedroom door. We could close it if we wanted to. I started to panic a bit. She was already acting weird around me, and this was going to set her over the edge.
I nervously watched her as she slung her bag onto the bottom bunk, walked in behind me, and put her hands on her hips, observing our new sleeping quarters.
“I can’t believe my mom agreed to this,” she muttered under her breath.
I felt her stiffen as she gazed at the beds. We both knew what this meant. They’d put us together on purpose. Nearly nineteen, we were the oldest counselors here. But still, we were barely adults. Mackenzie and I were close, but not that close.
Or were we? Did they think we were?
I tossed my bag onto the top bunk without hesitation, breaking the ice.
“I call the top bunk.”
She smiled, that spark lighting her eyes like a dare. “We should flip for it. Don’t want you breaking through the mattress and crushing me.”
“Checking me out already, Trouble? That’s two comments about my new body in a span of one hour.”
Shit.
Was I… flirting? Did she think I was flirting? Did she like it? I had never flirted with her before, but now I couldn’t stop myself. Her cheeks flamed scarlet, and she snapped her head away as if she had just been caught stealing.
“No!” she squeaked, but the flush said otherwise.
I swallowed the sudden rush inside me, that electric flare that always came with her. She played untouchable, but I’d just cracked that armor with a look. And she definitely liked it.
That blush? It lit a fuse deep in my gut, something feral and hungry I didn’t want to fight. She didn’t roll her eyes. She didn’t punch me in the arm and call me a perv like she used to. She blushed. She fucking blushed.
It was dangerous how fast I could get addicted to it, this feeling.
I ripped open my duffel, tossing clothes onto the bed while sneaking glances at her.
Dark curls framed her face, half-tied up in two messy buns, the rest cascading down her back.
Her Van Halen shirt hugged curves I’d spent years guiltily memorizing.
Black cutoff shorts left little to the imagination, and I had to stop myself from staring at her legs.
Had they always been that long? That tan?
She had laughed at one of my stupid jokes, scrunched her nose, and stuck her tongue out in that way that made my stupid grin grow wider.
She was cute as fuck.
I wasn’t shy about the crush I’d carried for years.
Hell, it felt like it’d been carved into my skin, sharpened every summer I spent too close to her.
I’d learned where to put my hands, what thoughts to bury, which lines not to cross.
Was I crossing them now? I kind of wanted to, but I was a mess waiting to happen. I didn’t want to drag her down with me.
Not yet.
But our room was a trap. I was a red-blooded male for crying out loud, and they put me in close proximity with literally the girl of my dreams. I needed to behave myself.
She’s your best friend. I kept telling myself.
But she was one of the prettiest girls I’d ever seen, and I was already chasing her in my mind.
Fuck.
“Think I made room for your stuff in this drawer,” she said, glancing up with a smirk.
I grabbed my pile, but she stopped me, eyes narrowing. “You’re putting those in the drawer like that?”
“Yeah?” I shrugged, catching the judgment. “Problem?”
“How will you find anything in that mess?”
Her fingers played with her hair, curling it around her pinky like a siren’s spell. My eyes drifted down to follow the motion, more than once. A weight settled low and sharp in my gut. Heat spread through my body.
I was drunk on her, already.
“Do it yourself, then.” I handed her the mess and tried not to look at her. I looked away.
“I love you, Max. But I’m not your damn maid.” She dropped the clothes on the floor, frustration etched on her face.
I leaned back on the bottom bunk, arms behind my head, hearing her words echo inside me: I love you, Max.
God, how many times was I going to replay that in my head? Her voice was so soft, warm, a tether I never wanted to break.
“Guess it’s someone else’s problem now,” I said, smug. I left the pile where it was.
She exhaled sharply, but started folding. I got up and joined her. I was clumsy, but I made her laugh, and the tension eased a bit.
“That’s the saddest fold I’ve ever seen,” she teased.
“It’s modern art,” I shot back.
“What is its title? Crumpled mess?” She grinned and then showed me how it was done.
Five minutes later, our stuff was sorted, mixed up, and somehow… right.
“Unfair,” I muttered. “You’re just naturally good at this.”
“Nah, you’re just bad,” she said, eyes sparkling.
“Ouch. Remind me why I stick around you?”
“Because you love me?” she said, licking her lips and leaning in a little too close.
I froze, caught in her gaze. She held her breath.
“Do I?” I teased, and I let the question hang there. I was daring her to flirt back.
She smiled, turning away.
“Yeah, it’s okay. I love you, too. Platonically. Don’t get too cocky.”
“Too late. Head’s already swollen.”
We stared at our intertwined clothes, and a rare calm settled over me. This made sense to me. Always had. Always would.
I was half-asleep, sunk into the bottom bunk, when a tiny alarm crackled through the old PA system. My eyes were gritty, my head foggy. I shifted, and that’s when I felt her.
Mackenzie was sitting at the foot of the bed, a book open on her lap, our legs tangled like they used to when we were kids. Back then, it had been innocent. Now, it wasn’t. Not for me. Not with the heat of her skin brushing mine. Not with my blood running too hot for this to be nothing.
Her eyes flicked down to where we touched, lingered for half a heartbeat too long, then she pulled away. She was too gentle. She knew exactly what she was doing to me.
She shut the book, stood, and something unspoken coiled in the space between us. It was heavier than friendship. We were being pulled towards each other by an invisible string.
She had to feel it, too, right? I knew she did. There was a faint flush on her neck, and her eyes dragged up my body more than once. She was choosing to ignore what was building between us.
“Counselors! Report to the dining hall for your assignments!” The megaphone screamed through the static.
I rubbed my face, trying to focus on something else, anything else. Anything other than her.
“You’d think after all the years we’ve been coming to this hellhole, they’d stick us in one of the renovated cabins.” My tone was lazy, but my pulse wasn’t.
“I don’t know… I’m kind of into this little room back here,” she said, smiling as if it were a private joke.
Yeah. Fuck yeah. Me too. I liked it a lot.
My grin broke through before I could stop it, and she caught me with those green eyes. I could fall into them and not bother coming up for air.
“Come on, let’s go,” she said, looking away. I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. My chest was tight in a way that had nothing to do with the lack of oxygen.
We barely made it ten steps toward the dining hall before some guy slammed into my shoulder hard enough to jolt me.
“Excuse you?” My voice came out low, sharp. I sized him up. He was maybe 5’11”, lean build. But I had both height and weight over him. I found myself straightening my spine to hover.
His badge read JACKSON KENSWICK, written in black Sharpie. I had never seen him before. He was new.
His eyes shifted to Mackenzie, his gaze traveling over her body. He didn’t just look at her; he assessed her as if he’d already had her once and was deciding whether he wanted seconds.
Mackenzie froze. The color drained from her face, eyes going wide—too wide—like she’d stepped into something out of a nightmare.
Her hand drifted to her neck, fingers curling around it, thumb pressing into the side. She thought no one had noticed.
But I did.
I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it one fucking bit.
“You’re excused,” he said, before walking off like I was nothing.
I stared at him, fists tight.
“What a dick,” I muttered, turning to her. She still hadn’t shaken that look; her face looked somewhere between fear and fight-or-flight.
“You, okay?” I reached out and put my hand on her shoulder. She flinched, as if my touch burned, and stepped back.
“Yeah. Fine. Totally fine.” Her voice was too high. She took off toward the dining hall, and I had to lengthen my stride to catch her.
When I finally did, I grabbed her shoulders and turned her toward me.
“You’re not fine. What’s going on?”
She stepped in close to me. Her breath touched my lips.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Max. I can take care of myself.”
She smelled like oranges and coconut, and for one split second, all I could think about was dragging her face to mine and tasting her. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt.
She broke the moment first, turning away. My gaze dropped. I couldn’t help it. I tracked the lines of her legs, the smooth skin, the way her shorts hugged her.
I wanted to touch her. To claim her. I shook my head to clear it in defeat. I’d ruin everything if I did.