Chapter 3
Callie
Macy’s curled up on the corner of the outdoor lounger, hoodie zipped up to her chin like it’s not still eighty degrees out. She’s holding her one and only drink of the night—a half-sipped hard cider she’s been nursing since before sunset.
“Brad, if you blast Kid Rock any louder, I’m throwing that speaker in the lake,” she says, only half kidding as the song rattles around us.
“Better than the pop crap you play,” Brad fires back, dragging a log closer to the fire pit. “This is real music, classic.”
I laugh and toss a marshmallow at him, but it misses and hits Mitch in the arm instead. He doesn’t even flinch. Just smirks, slow and smug like always.
He plops down next to me, pulling his hood up and leaning back on his hands. I gesture to the bag of marshmallows in my hand.
“You know,” Mitch says, leaning back, “that ceremony was a lot longer than I thought it’d be.”
Brad snorts. “Yeah, and how the heck was Jeremy What’s-His-Face the valedictorian?”
Luke squints. “The what?”
“The valedictorian,” Brad repeats.
Luke blinks. “What the hell is that?”
Mitch laughs. “The guy who talked for, like, an hour.”
Luke’s brows scrunch. “When was this?”
Brad stares at him. “Dude…were you at the ceremony with us?”
“I mean, physically? Yeah.”
We laugh. Mitch grabs another beer and sits down beside me.
“Want another s’more?” I ask.
“Sure.” He shrugs, like he didn’t want to tell me no, and sips his beer.
I pull a marshmallow out and pierce it onto the end of his stick. “Now, don’t burn it.”
He doesn’t respond—just smiles and pushes it into the flames.
I look around at everyone. Maddie’s stretched out with Luke on the blanket closest to the fire.
She’s draped across his chest like they’re trying to melt into one person.
Every time she moves, he adjusts to keep her tucked in.
She giggles as he whispers something in her ear.
I catch Macy roll her eyes so hard I can practically hear it.
“I still don’t get how y’all haven’t suffocated each other yet,” Brad mutters.
“Be jealous,” Maddie says, teasing as she pops a piece of chocolate into Luke’s mouth.
“Oh, I’m not,” Brad deadpans. “I like breathing on my own.”
“We all know Luke’s just trying to convince her not to go to college,” Mitch says.
“I am not,” Luke says in defense. “I’m proud of her. I just…I’m gonna miss her,” he says, tightening his arm around her, looking at her like he’s trying to memorize her face.
Maddie smiles softly at him and kisses his cheek, and I throw another marshmallow—one that actually hits them.
“Well, we all know Luke and Mitch are staying put,” Brad says. “Mowing lawns and mulching flower beds till their backs break.”
“At least I’m making money,” Luke says with a shrug.
“Same,” Mitch says. “Plus, I don’t have to sit in a classroom or listen to some professor with a god complex. I’m good.”
Brad smirks into his beer. “Well, I’m leaving. Academy starts in a month.”
“We know, Brad,” Macy says. “You bring it up every five minutes.”
“Because it’s cool,” he argues. “I’m gonna be a cop.”
“Let’s just hope you don’t get too cocky about it,” Maddie teases.
Brad holds up his cup. “To public service and wearing the uniform well.”
We all groan and clink cups with him anyway.
“Well, Wrenley offered me a full-time nanny gig for Holland and Nash. So I’ll be playing mom for the foreseeable future.”
Macy nods. “That’ll be so fun. I’m going to focus on marketing for Pure Serenity and going to more vendor markets. I make the most at them.”
“Yeah, because that peppermint mocha scrub is to die for. I want to eat it every time I open the jar.” I laugh.
“Technically, you could,” she says with a laugh. “But don’t.”
Brad leans forward, roasting his marshmallow to a crisp. “So we’ve got one cop, two landscapers, a college scholar, a nanny, and a beauty guru.”
“Cheers to that!” Maddie says, raising her cup one more time.
* * *
The fire’s burned down to glowing coals and the marshmallows are long gone. Brad tossed the last of the wood on and wandered up to bed fifteen minutes ago.
Macy cleaned up half the snack table before saying good night, and Maddie and Luke got into an argument and took it inside around the same time.
Now it’s quiet. Not silent, but quiet.
The dock creaks beneath me as I walk barefoot toward the edge, my almost-empty bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade dangling from my fingers, only a few sips left.
Mitch follows behind me and drops down near the end, far enough back that his feet hover just over the water.
The moon hangs high, casting just enough light to see where I’m stepping, where to sit beside him.
I tug my flannel sleeves down over my hands, the night air cooler down here.
“You cold?” he asks.
I shake my head.
We sit in silence for a few seconds. Comfortable silence. The kind I don’t feel with many people.
There’s a hum to the night—crickets, a distant owl, the water lapping the dock posts. I lean back on my elbows and glance over at him.
His hair is still messy from how it dried from swimming, and he smells like campfire and cigarette smoke.
There’s a quiet look on his face. One I don’t see much.
Not when the group’s all talking over each other, or when Brad’s doing backflips into the water, or Luke and Maddie are being… Luke and Maddie.
But now, here, in the stillness of everything, I notice it. He’s soft around the edges.
“I wonder what next summer will be like. And all the ones after that,” I say. Because I know deep down everyone’s wondering the same thing, but no one’s talking about it.
“Yeah,” he says, voice low. “I try not to.”
I nod. “Same.”
He glances around. “Feels like nothing changes when we’re all here.”
“Even though everything is.”
He looks at me then—really looks at me—and I feel it. That shift. That weight.
“I’ve been trying not to feel anything too much,” I admit quietly. “Trying to keep it light.”
His head tilts. “You’re not great at that.”
I laugh under my breath. “Gee, thanks.”
“I’m not either,” he says, more serious now. “Especially when it comes to you.”
The air gets heavier.
He turns toward me more, resting his arm behind me on the dock. “You remember that night after prom? When we sat on your porch swing ’til, like, two in the morning?”
I nod slowly. “Yeah.”
Prom night was about a month ago, though it feels longer somehow, like it belongs to a different version of us. We all went together as a group, even though Luke and Maddie were obviously the only real couple. They showed up looking like school royalty.
Maddie wore this long black dress with sparkles woven right into the fabric, and a diamond jewelry set that somehow constantly shimmered, even in the dark. Luke matched her in a sharp black suit—black undershirt, black cowboy hat, black boots. If anyone deserved Prom King and Queen, it was them.
Brad and Mitch both wore regular tuxes. My dress was dark blue, fitted, slit up my leg just enough to make me feel pretty without trying too hard. I loved it. Macy wore a muted dark pink gown. It suited her perfectly.
Mitch drove both Macy and me, and Brad followed behind us in his own truck. Luke and Maddie went separate because, let’s be honest, they were planning to ditch early. They stayed maybe an hour before slipping out to the hotel room he’d booked for them out of town.
After they left, the rest of us hung around barely an hour before calling it a night.
Brad was buzzed from the flask he’d hidden in his jacket, so Macy took his keys and drove him home.
Which left just Mitch and me. It felt strange for a while, until I realized it shouldn’t.
It wasn’t the first time we’d been alone without the whole group. But it felt like it was.
My parents were already asleep when we pulled up. I could tell because the whole house was dark. Mitch walked me to the door, and I remember thinking it was weird, him being that gentlemanly, but also…not. There was something still so easy about it. So natural.
Before I opened the door, he let out this sigh and said he was dreading going home early because his mom would be full of questions. So I dropped onto the porch swing, and he sat down beside me, close enough that our legs brushed.
Kinda like they are right now, sitting on the dock, both of us kicking them lightly, dipping the tips of our toes in the water. Mitch clears his throat and looks up at the stars.
“I almost kissed you then.” His voice is dry.
My heart catches. “Why didn’t you?”
He looks to me. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”
Silence settles between us, heavy and charged. His gaze flicks to my mouth for the quickest second. Barely. But I notice. God, I notice.
I prepare for him to kiss me now. But then he looks away, and lets out another long, quiet exhale.
“Mitch,” I say.
“Hmm?” He glances back.
“Just do it, please.”
He stares at me, searching, moving from my eyes to my lips. He leans in, softly meeting my lips with his. He’s hesitant, testing the waters. I press into him, deepening the kiss so he knows I’m really okay with it. His hand brushes the side of my face, fingers sliding into my hair.
The lake laps quietly against the dock, crickets humming, trees rustling in the night breeze, but it all fades, dissolving into the background until there’s nothing left but us and the quick, unsteady thump of my heart, racing like it’s trying to catch up.
When he pulls back just an inch, his forehead rests against mine, our breath mingling like we’re both trying to process the step we just took.