Page 85 of One Last Summer
“Yeah, it always happens here in late August,” he said. “It sneaks up on you.”
“I guess it’s like you said the other day when we got here. Change is good. I just wish it didn’t mean having to say goodbye.”
The soft cotton of his T-shirt felt like heaven against my skin, with the heady scent of him lingering just beneath the surface. “Well, let’s not then,” he said, his hand solid and reassuring against my back.
“How much longer can you stay tonight?”
I looked down at my watch. “An hour?” I guessed. “Ish?”
“That’s sixty very long minutes together, Millen,” he said. “Let’s not waste a single one.”
36
“CAN EVERYONE GATHER round please?” Nick said, summoning our group over to him like a cruise director when we got down to the beach. He was still coated in a rainbow of smeared food, and when I looked around, I noticed no one else had changed either. They must have come right from cleaning the dining hall to the beach. “I realize things just got a little out of hand up there.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Eloise muttered, hand wound around Linus’s arm.
“But,” Nick continued, shooting her a look, “we’re going to call a truce for tonight, because we have one final camp tradition to do, and we’re going to do it now before Clara has to leave.”
I looked at him, confused, until Trey emerged from the boathouse holding a giant container in his arms.
Of course.
“Wish boats?” I exclaimed, hands clasped at my chest.
It was the same box Steve had grabbed for me this morning.
“They were part of your plan for the week, right?” Mack said, turning to flash me one of those playful smiles I loved so much.
“Yes,” I said with a nod. “But we’re supposed to do them tomorrow, on our last night. Like we did as kids. And it’s barely dark out.”
“Clara, there’s no hard and fast rule that says that,” Sam said. “Besides, we can do whatever we want.”
“Well, you know that’s occasionally out of my comfort zone,” I replied, thinking of the conversation we’d just had in Sunrise.
“You’re learning,” was all she said back.
Trey knelt by the box and started digging through, passing out the small white pillar candles, and tiny square pieces of wood, each with a small hole carved in the center.
“Candles?” Linus asked, skeptically examining the slab of cut timber in his hand as Sam passed him a black marker.
“Wish boats, honey,” Eloise corrected as she grabbed one for herself. “We write wishes on the bottom of the wooden part. The candles go in the center. If it reaches the other side of the lake without the flame going out, your wish comes true.”
“That seems virtually impossible, considering the distance, and the chance that the elements could change at any second,” Linus mused, glancing out at the water, as if he could measure the circumference with his eyes.
“Eh, it’s all part of the fun, mate,” Trey said, offering him a paternal pat on the back. “Sometimes the impossible actually happens.”
Trey smiled at me, and I scanned his face for any signs of grief or anger after his blowup with Nick hours earlier in the dining hall. But he seemed at ease, like a weight had been lifted, finally. The only thing on his face was a smear of chocolate sauce.
I wandered over to the edge of the water and plopped myself down in the sand, rubbing my thumb against the unfinished side of my wooden block. Wishes were one of those things that seemed so obvious until you were faced with actually coming up with one. There were endless possibilities, but it had always been impossible to pick just one.
“Hey.” I looked up to find Nick standing above me. “Want some company?”
“I’d love it,” I said, patting the ground next to me. “Especially if it’s you.”
He slid in next to me, tucking his knees into his chest.
“So,” he said. “Is it too soon to wish for a hot, mysterious man to waltz into my life next week?”
