Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Sam
The drive to Cedar Hollow was long, but familiar. The winding roads, the towering trees stretching skyward, and the golden afternoon light filtering through the leaves. It all looked just like it had a couple of months ago.
But the vibe? That was different.
During the seven-hour drive, Jordan turned out to be surprisingly chill.
He didn’t bug me with constant chatter or fill the car with unnecessary noise, but when conversation came naturally, he held his own.
He was easygoing, quick-witted without being obnoxious, and, to my relief, not the kind of guy who needed to control the music or argue over gas station stops.
Honestly? It wasn’t bad.
But even with Jordan being decent company, this still wasn’t the trip I thought I’d signed up for.
No noisy group setting up tents in a chaotic rush. No Max bitching about the bugs or Renzo making inappropriate jokes while unpacking gear. No Harper scowling at the concept of communal showers or Elliott being the unofficial camp dad, making sure we all had everything we needed.
Just me. Liam. And Jordan.
After checking in, we pulled into our site. Liam killed the engine, stretching with a satisfied groan. “Alright, nerds. Home sweet home.”
Jordan wasted no time unbuckling. “Thank God! I need to move.”
I stepped out and inhaled the crisp scent of pine, dirt, and sun-warmed wood. The air was thick with the sounds of the camp. The low conversations and laughter drifting from somewhere deeper in the grounds.
Liam turned to us, hands on his hips, looking way too pleased. “Same drill as last time. Get your tent set up, claim your space, and then we drink at the pool.”
Jordan tossed a wink over his shoulder. “Or… some of us mingle first.”
Liam smirked. “Can’t waste any time, huh?”
Jordan just smiled, grabbing his bag and sauntering off to find his tent spot.
I rolled my eyes but didn’t comment, instead turning to my own gear. Setting up this time was smoother. I didn’t fumble with the poles like last time. Maybe I was getting used to this whole camping thing.
The sun was starting to dip by the time we finished setting up, a golden glow stretching long across the ground. Jordan had already wandered off, blending seamlessly into the crowd of campers, leaving just me and Liam at our site.
And honestly? I wasn’t mad about it.
Liam stretched, rubbing his shoulders, his tank top damp with sweat. “Pool?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“Absolutely,” I said, wiping my forehead. “If I don’t cool off, I’m going to spontaneously combust.”
Fifteen minutes later, we were waist-deep in the pool, the cool water a relief against the lingering heat of the day.
The area was packed with floating bodies, clusters of people lounging along the edge, the distant hum of conversation layered over the steady beat of whatever playlist was pumping through the speakers.
It was easy to settle in, to sink into the energy of the place.
We drifted toward a group of guys, falling into conversation like we’d known them for years.
The usual camp small talk: where people were from, if this was their first time at Cedar Hollow, and what other campgrounds they’d recommend.
There were stories swapped, plenty of laughter, and more than a few lingering glances from some of the guys around us.
At one point, as I waded past, a hand skimmed over my ass. Not accidental. I startled, turning my head, but the tall, bearded guy with a flirty grin, only winked before moving on, disappearing into the water like nothing had happened.
I blinked, heat rushing to my face. Liam, caught my expression as I said under my breath, “So much for consent.”
“Welcome back to Cedar Hollow,” he murmured, nudging me.
Jordan appeared at some point, floating by on an inflatable raft, drink in hand. “You two making friends?” he asked as he took a lazy sip.
Liam snorted. “You mean you haven’t met every single person here already?”
Jordan laughed. “Give me another hour.” He stayed for a few minutes, chatting casually, before pushing off again, his attention caught by someone at the other end of the pool.
I watched him go, shaking my head. “I’m getting the feeling we won’t see much of him this weekend.”
Liam shrugged, his voice casual. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of that. But as the sun dipped lower, casting the pool in soft amber light, I realized I wasn’t nervous this time.
I wasn’t holding back, wasn’t overthinking every glance, every touch, every brush of skin against mine in the water.
And with Liam beside me, smiling, looking at me like he was glad I was here, I felt it. Something settling in my chest.
Something good.
After a couple hours at the pool, soaking in the last of the afternoon sun and floating lazily in the cool water, we made our way back to our campsite.
The air had begun to shift. The sticky heat of the day gave way to the first hints of evening coolness.
A breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it the distant sounds of laughter and the occasional burst of music from another site.
Jordan wandered off at some point, fully embracing the social nature of the campground. That left just me and Liam, which, after the past few weeks, felt surprisingly effortless.
We fell into a happy rhythm, prepping dinner over the small camp stove and open fire. Burgers sizzled on the grill, their smoky aroma blending with the scent of pine. Liam handed me a beer, then took a long swig of his own, rolling his bare shoulders as he settled into his chair.
“This is perfect,” he murmured, eyes scanning the sky as the last of the sun bled into deep purples and blues.
I had to agree.
The campground was quieter now, the energy shifting with the fading light. People were gathered around fires, voices low and soft, the occasional burst of laughter punctuating the night. Somewhere in the distance, someone strummed a guitar, the soft chords floating lazily through the trees.
I stretched my legs out, tipping my beer toward the fire. “Didn’t think I’d say this, but I’m actually glad I came back.”
Liam glanced over, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He clinked his bottle against mine. “Good.”
And as the flames crackled and the night settled in around us, I let myself enjoy it. The quiet, the simplicity, and the way everything felt just right.
For a few minutes, we didn’t talk. Just sat in lazy silence, the buzz from a strong drink settling in, watching the firelight glow while Liam nudged the flames back to life.
“You doing alright?” he finally asked, his voice softer than usual.
I rolled the bottle between my palms. “Yeah.”
He arched a brow. “Liar.”
I chuckled. “Okay, mostly yeah.”
Liam tossed a few more logs on, sparks popping and crackling. “It’s weird without the others.”
I nodded, taking another sip. “Yeah.”
But that wasn’t all of it.
Because this time, there wasn’t a giant buffer of friends.
It was just us.
And even though Liam wasn’t acting like anything was different, I felt it. Felt that little thread of something still hanging between us, unspoken, unacknowledged.
The kiss at Pride.
The way we’d been circling each other for months, pushing too close, pulling too far.
The tension from our last trip here.
The heat that still burned between us.
And now, there was nothing in the way.
No distractions or excuses.
Just Liam.
And me.
The sky had darkened into a deep navy blue, the stars punching through the void like scattered diamonds. The fire cast a warm glow over the campsite, licking at the darkness, sending shifting shadows dancing across Liam’s face.
We’d fallen into conversation, reminiscing about past trips. New York, the cruise, and the time Callie swore off nature after an incident with a particularly aggressive raccoon.
Liam leaned back, his beer dangling from his fingers, chuckling. “That was the moment I knew Callie would never come camping with us again.”
I chuckled, tipping my bottle toward him. “Not even bribing them with a luxury cabin would work.”
Liam laughed, the sound low and easy, curling through the space between us. That laugh had always gotten to me. It had depth, warmth, the kind of laugh that made people lean in just to feel closer to it.
We kept talking. About the white-water rafting trip where we almost lost Noah over the side and Evan yelled louder than I’d ever heard him in my life.
About that summer in Asheville when we got heatstroke trying to hike in July.
About Liam’s ill-fated “grill master” phase where he nearly set Callie’s deck on fire.
Liam took another sip of his beer, then said, almost offhand, “You ever think about how weird it is that everyone assumes relationships are supposed to look one specific way?”
I glanced at him. “Define weird.”
“Like,” he shrugged, eyes on the fire, “monogamous, exclusive, together forever, no deviations. The blueprint.”
I considered that for a second. “I mean… I’ve done monogamy. I’ve also done open.”
That got his attention. He turned, eyebrows lifting slightly. “You have?”
“Yeah.” I rolled my bottle between my palms. “Couple times. Different versions. Some more structured than others. But honestly? I didn’t hate it.”
“Huh.” He sounded genuinely surprised.
I shrugged. “For me, it’s less about whether someone only sleeps with me and more about whether they’re honest with me. Communication, agreed-upon rules, no sneaking around. Trust matters more than technical exclusivity.” I smirked. “Pretty sure Savage Garden said it best.”
A beat. Then Liam chuckled and asked, “What?”
“You know! ‘Affirmation!’ I believe that trust is more important than monogamy…”
Liam suddenly remembered, “Oh, yes! Great song!”
“And,” I added, “I’d be cool with one guy, too. If that’s what it was. I’m not anti-monogamy. I’m anti-lying.”
Liam stared into the fire like he was chewing on that.