Page 48 of That Summer Feeling

“Exactly.”

She moved herself even closer to me. This was the beginning of something big, that much I knew. It used to be hard for me to cherish beginnings because I found myself anxious to learn what would come next. I always got too far ahead of myself. The future had more in store for Stevie and me. Desire hung heavy in the air, a third party to our every action. But the present was perfect too. Sweet and full of hope.

As eager as I was to explore her—learn every curve of her body up close, hear the sounds she made when pleasure overcame her—I wanted just as much to cherish every milestone as we met it. I washoldingStevie Magnusson. We were going to sleep in each other’s arms. I needed to appreciate that for what it was—a gift. The rest would be here soon enough.

Until then, I wanted to let the magic of the present amaze me.

Day Four of Summer Camp

21

It seemed impossible that we had only two full days left in the mountains before we were due to return to our normal lives. It had felt like years since we’d arrived at camp, and I couldn’t imagine it coming to an end. Instead of being reinvented, I’d been rearranged. All the pieces of myself I’d never acknowledged before this week now fit me so well they seemed like the entirety of my personhood.

It went so much deeper than my attraction to Stevie. My queerness shifted the lens through which I viewed my whole life. I could finally see how I had never actually been comfortable in the old molds I used to live inside. They’d been shattered long before I arrived at camp, but with my new perspective, the wreckage no longer hurt to look at.

Holding Stevie in my arms as she slept, feeling the easy rise and fall of her chest, I felt so much compassion for thoseold, jagged pieces of me. I had been so fearful of inflicting pain on others, I ended up hurting myself. I had fallen over myself to fix things that couldn’t be repaired.

When Stevie finally stirred, the first thing she did was roll back to see me. “You’re still here,” she said, groggy. She rubbed her eyes as if she had to make extra sure.

“Of course I am,” I told her. “Where else would I be?”

“Sleeping on a rock in my hideout.” She laughed softly at herself. “It’s a really nice view in the mornings.”

“I’ve seen better,” I said as I kissed her on the cheek. When I tried to pull back, she drew me in closer instead. Our foreheads were touching. We breathed into the quiet, listening to the campgrounds wake up around us.

In a way, my old habit of romanticizing life was one of the only kindnesses I’d granted myself, because it was the only time I allowed myself to believe I deserved a love full of care. I didn’t need to shut that out anymore. I needed to lean in harder, because it was a gift to be able to not just see the good in the world but embrace it.

And Stevie Magnusson was all the good in the world. She was warmth. She was sparkle. She radiated the exact kind of compassion I’d only recently learned to have for myself. Pressing my skin against hers had the same grounding effect as being barefoot on grass. I’d hardly slept all night, and I didn’t feel tired. I felt calm. For the first time in years, my alarm went off after I’d already woken up, and it wasn’t because I’d spent the night heartsick and confused. I’d been content.

“What do you say to a morning swim?” I asked her. Theway her face lit up told me I’d surprised her in a good way. It was addicting, watching Stevie marvel at me. She made taking risks worth it.

We dressed in our swimsuits with regular clothes atop them and headed toward the water. The air had a bite to it, but the gentle pinkish tint of the early-morning sun softened the chill’s effect. It all looked so lovely that the breeze invigorated me. Emboldened me.

There was a dock not far from our cabin, and Stevie and I walked down it hand in hand. When we reached the edge, both of us paused, squinting into the light as we took in the beauty of the view. That could have been enough. But I found myself wondering what it would be like to kiss Stevie at dawn. Instead of imagining the scenario, I decided it would be infinitely better to live it instead.

So I did.

I pressed my lips to Stevie’s, and she welcomed me eagerly, wrapping her arms around me to pull us closer. The cold air swished between us, finding the gaps where we didn’t touch. All the places we did were warm and secure.

I had never felt such a comfort with my desire. It was easy in the way all good things often were, like when you found yourself wondering why you didn’talwaystake a nice walk on a beautiful day or cook your favorite meal for dinner. Why didn’t Ialwayswake up with the sun to kiss Stevie Magnusson on the dock of the lake? In that moment, it felt not only possible to do this every morning of my life, but necessary.

“I could get used to this,” I told her, pulling back to see her face.

“I’m afraid I already am,” she said back. There was a hint of melancholy in her voice, and the best I could do to soothe it was kiss her again.

Get used to me, I thought.Be as desperate for my touch as I am for yours.

Distantly, I wondered if anyone could see us. I hoped they could. There was a thrill in imagining all of camp knowing that Stevie Magnusson spent her morning making out withme. It was equally exciting to consider that this moment existed only for us. We were not just the only two people at camp but the only two people who would ever live that morning in that way. The dock, the lake—all of the campgrounds, really—belonged to us, if only for a little while.

Stevie moved her lips from my mouth to the bridge of my nose. She kissed it quick, then threw her sweater off, kicked her flip-flops down the dock, and dove into the lake headfirst, gliding under the water until she emerged a few feet out.

“I couldn’t think about it too long,” she told me. “I had to just do it.”

I wanted to be as bold as her, but seeing her teeth chatter behind her beaming smile gave me pause. She swam up to where I stood, and I lowered myself down to sit, marveling at her. When I dipped my feet in the water, I let out a little yip of shock.

“It’s so cold,” I said. The world’s most obvious statement.

“It’s warmer by me,” Stevie teased.