Page 5 of That Summer Feeling

“Stevie,” she said breathlessly. “I think we might be stuck here.”

“I think you might be right.”

“Here. Hug me closer, and we can roll to the side.”

We pulled together so tightly that my nose got tucked into the crook of her neck, where I could smell sunscreen and some kind of aquatic perfume. It was a familiar but uniquely comforting combination of scents. Like being wrapped in a soft towel after a long swim.

“To the left?” I suggested.

And so we rolled, hugging as close as two people could hug, until we were sideways at the entrance of our cabin, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

When we wiggled ourselves free, I offered my hand to help her up.

“My preferred hello is a full-body tackle,” she said when she was fully upright. Her smile had sunlight attached to it, warm and impossibly bright, shining onto me.

I could immediately tell she was someone who did hard things with ease. She’d probably hiked the mountain to get here, and the only proof of her effort was a delicate flush to her cheeks and that monstrosity of a backpack on her back. She’d managed to fall into me and make it not at all embarrassing. If anything, it made me like her more than I’d ever liked someone who’d knocked me to the floor. Not that it had ever happened before. But if it were to happen again with someoneelse, I suspected Stevie would maintain her first-place position.

“An underrated greeting,” I said back.

“I didn’t hurt you though, right?”

“Not at all. Are you hurt?”

“Of course I am,” she said matter-of-factly. “Just not in the ways you can see.” She smirked until I understood she was kidding, then added, “I’m sorry for barreling into you. I think I caught a loose floorboard or something.”

“You’re welcome to barrel into me anytime,” I told her. My stomach immediately did a little flip of embarrassment.

Stevie looked me over, then tucked her hands under the straps of her gigantic backpack. “Good to know.”

To direct attention away from whatever the hell I’d just said, I gestured to our home for the next week. “Isn’t this cute?”

“This is perfect.”

“Did you meet Michelle? She’s our other cabinmate,” I said. “And our counselor too. Whatever that means.”

“I did. I actually got in right after you, but I dropped my brothers off at their cabins first. I didn’t want to creep you out and follow you.”

“You don’t seem like the type of person who could creep anyone out.”

“Thank god.” Her gaze caught mine again as she staged a laugh of relief. She had this faint eruption of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Freckles always fascinated me. My skin didn’t do that.

“Do you want to walk together to meet everyone else?” I asked.

She stared down at her outfit, plucking the fabric and then letting it fall back into place. “Should I change? You look so good, and I’m just here in this.”

“You look amazing,” I told her. She’d complimented me, and one of my most consistent compulsions was that I could never hear a compliment without giving one back. Plus, I meant it. She wore athletic apparel with conviction. It looked like a carefully considered ensemble on her, not something you tossed on to exercise.

I was in my usual oversized shirt, which I’d tucked into the waistband of my ripped jean shorts. At some point I’d evolved into someone who liked to wear tees that said things on them. Not in an overly basic, “but first coffee” way but a “repurpose someone’s middle school gym uniform” way. The stylewaspractically my uniform at this point. Dara kept teasing me, saying that the older I got, the younger I dressed. The only deviation I’d taken for arriving at camp was swapping my Docs for hiking boots.

“Garland, I hope you’re not lying to me,” Stevie said as she walked into our shared bedroom. She injected so much familiarity into her use of my name that I questioned whether wehadmet before. She took off her humongous backpack and tossed it onto the other bed. “I’m putting all my faith in you.”

I looked again at her sports set. It sat on her like a second skin. She wore hiking boots too—a camel color, and they hit just below her calf—and hers were more worn than mine, which wasn’t hard. Until that morning, I’d never put them on. It took all of one hour for me to regret them.

“I’m not lying,” I said, really meaning it. She looked fantastic.

Stevie didn’t even check herself in the mirror after my confirmation. Instead she headed straight for the front door, waving me on and saying, “Enough making me feel better about myself. Let’s go meet the other campers. See who we’re working with out here.”

When we set out on the path, Dara was already ahead of us, walking alone. It was so like her. She’d disappear from restaurants or parties for twenty or thirty minutes, then return without an explanation beyond “I wanted some air.” It was a good thing I had someone to walk with, or I might have been offended by how she’d gone on without me.