Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
VICTORIA
T hree days later, I still can’t get Noah—okay, more precisely that kiss —out of my mind.
At breakfast, he’s alone at the staff table, sipping that awful coffee with a straight face as he studies his binder of notes. When I sit across from him, he gives me a tiny smile, but his gaze is hot enough to turn this cafeteria into cinders.
“No Sophie this morning?” I ask him.
He takes a bite of breakfast burrito and shakes his head. “She’s finishing up a call with the admins.”
I steal a strawberry from his plate and he lifts a brow. “There’s a whole pile of those on the buffet, you know,” he says, teasing.
“Yeah, but it’s way over there.” When I take a bite, his eyes drop to my lips, and an honest-to-goodness shiver runs down to my toes. “Besides,” I say. “This one tastes better.”
Under the table, his leg slowly brushes mine in a way that feels indecent. “It looks delicious.” Noah gives me a sly smile, one that says he will not be on his best behavior even before camp is over, and that job with Diana is looking less tempting by the second.
When Sophie plops down next to me, her plate loaded with fruit and scrambled eggs, I nearly jump from my seat. “So we have a surprise visit from admin,” she says. “They’re coming tomorrow and will leave the next day.”
Noah’s brow lifts as he turns to her. “I thought they were skipping this year.”
Sophie shrugs. “Changed their minds, I guess.” She takes a bite of toast, her brow furrowed. “They’ll get here by lunchtime tomorrow so they can see part of each class, then they’ll hang around for the evening activities. I’ll do the tour, if you two don’t mind handling the afternoon games.” She looks flustered, which is unusual for her.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s just annoying that they didn’t give more notice,” she says. “But we’ll adjust.”
Of all of us, Sophie’s the one who’s most married to schedules and spreadsheets. She claims to like surprises, but only if they don’t disrupt the flow of her plans.
“Usually someone from the home office visits each site at some point during the summer,” Noah tells me. “They were supposedly skipping us because everything here is the same as it has been the last few sessions, and they have less staff to travel now.”
“Also Roxy wants you to call her ASAP,” Sophie tells me. “It sounded time-sensitive.”
“Okay, sure.” When I glance at Noah, he gives me a reassuring smile. Does he know something I don’t?
My heart flutters as I remember the job that Roxy said would be open soon. First it seemed like an unlikely stretch for me, but now that we’re nearing the end of the session, I want it even more. This camp has reminded me that I’m stronger than I gave myself credit for.
Plus, I’d like a reason to turn down Diana’s offer. And a solid job with the College of Charleston, right in Noah’s backyard? Heat blooms in my chest as I think about it. This is not a camp bubble—these feelings are real. I don’t know how we’ll navigate working together while dating, but now that it feels like a real possibility, I want to try.
Sophie leaves me alone in her office, where I can use the land line to call Roxy. She answers on the third ring.
“How’s it going?” I ask her. “I’ve wanted to text you about a hundred times, but I have to stand under this one tree in just the right way…”
“That’s okay,” she says. “I know how remote it is there.”
“I know we’re not really a million miles from everything. It just feels that way sometimes.” From the office window, I can see a group of kids outside with their class, heading toward one of the big radio telescopes.
“How are things going?” she asks.
“Honestly, this place is amazing. And you were right—the kids are awesome.” I babble on about all the things I’m loving about camp, and when I finally take a breath, there’s silence on her end. “Roxy?” I ask. She’s quiet for a moment, and for the first time, I think this might not be the good news and job offer that I was hoping for.
“I need to ask you something,” she says, her voice dropping an octave. “And I don’t know how to ask you in a way that isn’t awkward, so I’m just going to say it. Is there something going on with you and Noah?”
My heart leaps into my throat. The whole world freezes.
“What?” Even that one word sounds strangled, like it’s been squeezed from a guilty person.
She sighs. “First, let me say that I’m not trying to shame you or embarrass you. I wanted to talk to you first, and hopefully this conversation goes no further than us, this morning.”
The room feels as hot as the surface of the sun. My stomach is in knots, and it’s hard to breathe. “What’s happening?” I squeak out.
“Sophie just uploaded a big batch of photos to the website,” she says. “They’re from the weekend camping trip—which looked like an incredible time, by the way. The kids look deliriously happy.” She heaves another sigh, and I can hear her clicking the mouse by her computer. “But there are a couple of photos of you and Noah where you both seem close enough that it could raise eyebrows.”
I shake my head, racking my brain and trying to pull up any moment where we touching in public—did someone see us in his tent together?
“I’m hoping this is nothing,” she says, “and if we look at these together, then you can tell me I’m imagining things, and then I don’t have to talk to the director and we can both get on with our day.” She takes a quick breath and says, “Can you access your email right now?”
“Yes,” I tell her. I feel like I’ve swallowed a stone, but I log in to the staff computer and navigate over to my inbox. There’s a chime as Roxy’s message comes through. When I open it, I see the photos that she’s attached. She’s still talking as I study them.
The first photo is from days ago, when we were hiking near the waterfall closer to the institute. The students in the foreground are all beaming—it’s the moment they came off the trail and saw the towering falls and the pools below. But there, in the background, on the rocky slope at the end of the trail, Noah is helping me down, his hands around my waist. The memory of that day is burned into my brain. I’d slipped near the bottom and crashed right into him. Sophie snapped this photo at the precise moment when my hands had landed squarely on his chest, and he’d gripped me tight... and didn’t let go. I have to zoom in to see our faces, but the intensity is hard to miss.
The second photo was taken at the bridge, after Layla had helped me across. When Sophie took this photo, she was focused on the students grinning in the foreground, arms around each other. But in the background, Noah’s holding me in a tight hug after I collapsed against him, full of terror and relief. I zoom in for a closer look, but I remember this moment down to the last detail: my hair was a wind-whipped mess, and I was shaking like a leaf. He’d come over to check on me and I’d thrown my arms around him without even thinking. To most people, we’d just look like two friends. The look on Noah’s face, though—it’s full of love.
I let myself stare for a moment, focus on the tiny creases at the corners of his eyes, the crooked smile and the lone dimple.
Noah can be hard to read, but that expression leaves no room for doubt. Despite what I told Gwen, this doesn’t feel like a camp crush—when I’m with Noah, my heart is full. I can’t ignore these feelings I have for him anymore, and I don’t want to. My heart’s telling me to go for it and take him up on his offer because I’m falling for Noah Valentine—hard.
A smile tugs at my lips, despite the worry that I’m in hot water with Roxy.
“I can explain these,” I offer. “In one, we’d just crossed over that bridge that’s like a million miles off the ground. I was terrified, and one of the kids held my hand to help me across. Noah was worried, and he came over to make sure I was okay. What you see is me after a panic attack and him trying to help.”
“Okay,” she says, but I’m not sure she believes me. Right now, this is Roxy my boss, not Roxy my friend. The thought stings, but I press on.
“In the other one, Noah was helping me down a slippery part of the trail. I lost my footing and crashed right into him.” I take a breath and aim for levity. “I see how that could look… unprofessional, but I swear it’s me being clumsy and him trying to save me from myself.”
A pause. I brace myself for the worst.
“All right,” she says, sounding matter-of-fact. “So nothing you need to disclose here? Because they’re dead serious about the no-fraternizing rule, and if that’s happening, then we need to have a different conversation.”
This is the moment where I should tell her. I know it, but as the seconds tick by, I feel more anxious, more afraid, and more uncertain. I don’t want to get Noah in trouble, and I don’t want to let Roxy down. But I also don’t want to feel this embarrassment and shame. The people-pleaser in me is caving in on herself because all of this feels like I’m being dressed down for doing something wrong—and bad .
“Noah and I are old friends,” I tell her, settling for mostly-true. “We went to college together.”
“What?” she says. “I met all your old college friends. I never met Noah.”
“He was in my pre-Roxy era,” I explain. “It’s a long story that I’ll tell you over a bottle of wine sometime. But we were very close, and then we had this falling out and never talked again. It was stupid. But he was my best friend.”
She chuffs. “You mean your pre-Roxy best friend.”
I chuckle at her teasing, so grateful to hear it. “Obviously.”
“Huh,” she says. “You’re like as opposite as two people can be.”
I smile at that, because she’s not wrong. “I know. It’s wild. And of course, I had no idea he’d be here. I was just as shocked as he was. And, I imagine, as you are.” I take a deep breath, feeling better about telling her at least part of this. I don’t like hiding things from Roxy, and I know I should come clean about the feelings. But I don’t know what all of these feelings mean yet, and I don’t want to make this situation worse than it already is. Mountains out of molehills and all of that. “We haven’t seen each other in years,” I tell her. “And I guess we just got a little carried away. I’m sorry if it looked inappropriate, or if it put you in an awkward position. We’re just really close friends.”
She lets out a huge breath. “Thank goodness,” she says, “I was afraid I was going to have to explain this to the director and start hiring replacements.”
My heart squeezes in my chest, because there it is—the worst case scenario. The one that would blow everything apart.
“I took these photos off the site, and it’s not any kind of blatant display,” she says. “Probably most people wouldn’t even notice, but of course I did, because it’s you.”
“So you’re not in trouble?” I ask.
She snorts, and now she sounds like Roxy my friend again. “Oh, please. I’ve had to deal with way worse staff problems than this. But just keep in mind that the parents looking at the photo site don’t know your history, okay? It sucks, but sometimes we have to hold ourselves back a bit because the context is missing. Even innocent gestures can be misinterpreted, and before you know it, you’re in an HR firestorm.”
I sigh. So much missing context. Can a picture capture everything that’s happening between me and Noah? Then another thought occurs to me, and it’s like being punched in the gut.
“Is this why the admins are coming tomorrow?” I ask, horrified by the thought of my every move being analyzed. If I obsess over every word and every move I make, I’m just going to seem more awkward and suspicious.
“No,” she says. “It’s purely coincidental. I’ll be driving up with Julie, who’s the assistant to the director. We’re just coming to check in and show one of our donors what the more remote camps are like. People make big donations when they see the camps in action, and this donor is a big fan of astronomy.”
“Oh,” I breathe. “Okay.” I feel a little of the tension ease, because I don’t think Roxy would be untruthful about this—which makes me feel even worse for not being a hundred percent honest with her.
“It’ll be fine,” she says. “And you get to hang out with me for a day.”
“Sweet. Girl time with my bestie.”
She laughs at that, and I decide right then that whatever is happening with Noah has to stop completely—at least until the camp is over. I don’t know what happens next, but it can’t happen here. I won’t jeopardize Noah’s job, ruin a chance I have at a full-time position here, or create a difficult situation for Roxy.
“I’ve got to run,” she says. “We’ve got a stomach flu situation at the home campus, and I might need my hazmat suit.”
“Ugh, Roxy.”
“I know. See you tomorrow, babe.”
When I hang up, my whole body feels wound tight, ready to explode. I curse myself for nearly wrecking everything.
And this lie? It feels like a boulder sitting on my chest. But it’s not as heavy as the other lie—the one I’ve been telling myself for six years.
That I was over Noah Valentine.