I checked my watch for what felt like the hundredth time and shifted my weight from one foot to the other. If I didn’t see Isabelle soon, I was going to implode.

There’s no doubt about it, the last nine months had been a living hell. After having an epic summer with Isabelle, it only seemed logical that I’d return home to a nightmare. Eric had opened his big mouth and told my parents that I had a “gift” for writing music. Naturally my mother ran with the news, scheduling piano lessons, sessions with a private instructor, and the auditions on Broadway I’d been fighting against for years.

The news had the opposite effect on my father. He thought pursuing a career in music was “utterly useless” and “a total waste of money.” He insisted it would only bring down my grades if I added one more “hobby” to the list, and told me it was either music or sports. I picked sports, because I didn’t want to be known as “that guy” around my friends—the one who wore makeup and tight pants while performing on a stage. My decision made my mother as angry as I’ve ever seen her. After I returned, they fought for weeks on end about what I should or shouldn’t do with my life, as if I were only a spectator. Finally, right before Christmas, my father moved out.

Their divorce had been a long time coming for other reasons, but they were always good at putting on a show in public. It’s like my old man needed the image of a perfect family to better his career. My little sister blamed me for everything and stopped talking to me for almost an entire month. I didn’t want to live with either of my parents. They were both bitter and determined to put each other down. It came down to choosing the lesser of two evils, and my father won with the help of a mediator who conveyed my wishes. My sister went with Mom. Although I didn’t really want to live with him, I knew he’d never be home and I’d have the house to myself.

Of course once his job was on the line and his drunken binges turned into fits of anger and swinging fists, I deeply regretted my choice. He continuously informed me that I was a coward, said I would throw my life away if I continued with music. My guitar lessons were canceled, and he fired the private vocal coach against my mom’s wishes.

Then he threatened to stop sending me to Camp Oscines.

The morning after his threat was the first time I had legitimately considered running away, although it would be far from the last. I planned to buy a ticket to see Isabelle with my lifelong savings account, and wasn’t going to tell my parents. It’s not like they’d know I was missing anyway—at least not for a day or two. But my plans went to shit when I mentioned the idea to one of my buddies and he said I couldn’t go on a plane by myself as a minor unless my parents dropped me off at the gate.

Weekly conversations with Isabelle were the only thing to get me through those dark months. I started calling her more than just once every week—sometimes every single night. Whenever I felt as if I was sinking, I knew I could count on her to be there.

I didn’t tell her that my old man had started knocking me around, but I told her about everything else. She was always patient and understanding, even the one time I called her in the middle of the night after I thought my father had broken my arm. Fortunately it was just a sprain and I only missed out on a couple weeks of basketball. I was coached to tell the doctor in the ER that I had slipped on a patch of ice while shooting hoops in our backyard.

Isabelle was there without fail, just like the night I had stuttered in front of her. Although nothing more happened that summer beyond the innocent kiss on the cheek, our bond grew in ways I was sure could never be broken. We were back to constant teasing and subtle touches without crossing any lines. We still spent ample time apart with our friends, even though I hated every minute. There was an electric current between us that had the pull of a magnet and the force of a freight train.

I loved her for everything she was: kind, patient, fun, sweet, caring. And I also needed her in a way I had never needed anyone before. She was my rock when shit started to go down with my father. That’s why when she called me in late February, her voice thick with tears, I nearly broke.

“I didn’t get the scholarship, Roman. They said…I guess I just wasn’t as good this time at tryouts. There was this girl from Colorado…they said she could’ve out-sung Whitney Houston…” She paused, pulling in a wavering breath. “But maybe…maybe I can talk my aunt into bringing me up to visit you on a Saturday or Sunday. Or I could take a bus…”

Of course I wasn’t having that bullshit. “I’ll call the camp and straighten everything out, Belle. Everything will be okay. I promise.”

I hung up, desperate and completely out of my mind. I wouldn’t survive the summer without her.

That night after I cleaned out the savings I kept in a shoebox under my bed and stole the wad of emergency cash my father kept in his study, I grabbed a taxi to my grandma’s mansion to beg for the remaining balance. I gathered enough to send a certified check to Camp Oscines along with a letter from Grandma Caroline stating the money was from an anonymous donor to be used as a scholarship for Isabelle Martin.

Grandma Caroline was curious about this girl that meant so much to me. But she didn’t hesitate when I explained how Isabelle was a friend with more talent than anyone I had met and didn’t have enough money for camp. Grandma was a talented pianist with a deep appreciation for the musical arts. And my grandfather had run a realty company in Manhattan that catered to the rich and famous, leaving her with enough money that she didn’t bat an eye at writing a five figure check. At least she could sometimes be reasonable, unlike her daughter.

Isabelle called a week later, squealing and shouting the news that she would be going after all. She had never sounded so happy. It was totally worth the week of school and the last two basketball games I missed after my father beat me until I was black and blue. Even after I was certain he had cracked a few of my ribs, I still refused to admit that I had stolen the money. Just before he threatened to call the cops and have me hauled off to juvie, I was able to convince him that I had watched him clean the stash out while smashed out of his mind. There must’ve been a night he was so blacked out drunk that the idea wasn’t ridiculous.

I would’ve done anything to spend another summer with Isabelle. And late at night, when I lay in bed thinking about how far I’d go to be with her, the idea that I would do anything for her truly terrified me.

When registration was about to close and there was still no sign of Isabelle, I was scared as shit something happened with her “scholarship” until I caught sight of a beat-up little SUV putting along the driveway. Since the majority of kids at camp came from rich families, I knew it just had to be her. I started jogging toward the vehicle before I saw her beautiful face grinning at me from the passenger’s seat.

My heart soared.

She tore out the door before the SUV stopped and started for me, colliding into my chest with the force of a bull. I let out an oomph before wrapping her in my arms and inhaling her coconut scent. It was weird as shit because I had grown several inches since the last year and she hadn’t. And she felt so small in my arms, unlike the first summer when we met and were nearly the same size. I lifted her off her feet and she squealed.

“Roman! Put me down!”

It felt so good to finally have her in my arms that I never wanted to let her go. Squeezing her tightly, I dropped a kiss in her hair, breathing her in one more time before lowering her back to the ground. Then a slightly older version of Isabelle appeared behind her with a bag in hand, eyes wide. They could’ve been sisters, only this woman wore extra short shorts and a low cut shirt that showed the top swells of her large tits. I felt a little guilty when I found myself hoping Isabelle would grow a body like hers one day.

“And who might you be?” the woman asked with an amused smirk.

Isabelle’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of red as she backed away from me and took the bag from the woman. “This is my friend Roman. Roman, this is my Aunt Joey.”

Her aunt raised one eyebrow. “Roman, eh? How come I haven’t heard of you before?”

I threw Isabelle a questioning look as I took her bag and slung it over my shoulder. It irritated the hell out of me to hear that she had never mentioned me to her aunt when she was my world.

“We’re just friends, Aunt Joey. You don’t have to get all weird about it.”

For some reason, hearing her call us “friends” hurt more than my old man’s fists.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I told her aunt with a slightly irritated growl.

Isabelle hit my arm with the back of her hand and giggled. “Oh my god! I knew your voice had changed, but I still can’t believe it’s so low!” Then her big eyes dragged up and down my body. “And you’re so…tall.”

She had changed plenty too. Her cheeks were smooth and narrow, and she was wearing makeup. Underneath a baggy tank top and knee-length shorts, I could tell she suddenly had hips and a small handful of tits. I was sure if I had lowered my hands when we had hugged, I would’ve found her ass had filled out too. Her hair was nearly twice as long as the summer before and it was no longer straight, but slightly wavy and slightly bleached from the sun. She looked so different from the first summer we met that it was hard to believe she was the same person until she gave me one of her bright smiles that always did strange things to my insides.

Although she wouldn’t be fifteen for another three weeks, she looked more like a woman than a girl. The other guys were going to go fucking nuts over her.

But she was mine.

With the possessive thought, I threw my arm over her shoulders and pulled her close. She set her hand on my chest and looked up at me in a way that made my insides all fuzzy and warm. Getting another chance to see those mesmerizing eyes in person had already made my summer.

“I’ll take care of your niece,” I promised her aunt.

“I bet you will,” the aunt answered in a suggestive tone. Then she looked at Isabelle and winked. “See you in August, half-pint. You kids stay. Safe.”

Her aunt threw me a somewhat warning look before returning to her vehicle. Isabelle buried her face against my chest and moaned. “Holy shit, that was so embarrassing! I can’t believe she suggested…ugh!”

“No skin off my back, half-pint,” I teased.

Giggling, she slapped me playfully on the chest. “Stoooooop! Couldn’t you have waited for me somewhere else?”

“Why, you ashamed of me?” I was only half teasing. Knowing she hadn’t mentioned me to her aunt still stung.

“No, it’s just…forget it.” Then she wrapped her other arm around me and pressed herself against my chest. “God, I’m so glad to see you! Every time you called, I wanted to reach through the phone and give you a major hug!”

I knew the feeling.

I also knew it was going to be an epic summer.

* * *

That night when we gathered for sound off, I couldn’t have been more pleased to see her approaching the fire pit with Melanie, knowing she’d be in my group again for the summer. I knew they had stayed in touch since last summer, and it’s clear they were close the way Melanie had her arm looped through Isabelle’s. But when I noticed Isabelle’s eyelids were heavy and her bottom lip was trembling, I burst forward.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual as I approached them. “What’s going on?”

“Ask your friend Brooke,” Melanie spat at me with a dirty look. “I can’t believe you still hang out with her!”

With the mention of Brooke’s name, I nearly lost my shit. She had become a serious pain in my ass the last school year. She started a rumor at the beginning of the year that we were dating, and it eventually got to my father at work. He eased up on me for a short while after that, and I know it’s because he thought if I dated the daughter of the CEO of his corporation, he’d be the one reaping in the benefits. But his mercy didn’t last long. Especially after I stole his money.

Until he started using me as a punching bag, I was always a pretty mellow guy. But he had released a side of me that must’ve been lying dormant all those years. Anger was now a permanent part of me, as was my love for Isabelle. I’d never be able to shake or hide it, no matter the cost or who it hurt in its wake.

I grabbed Isabelle’s arm, I guess rougher than I intended. My blood was on fire. “What did she do?”

Her eyes shot upward to mine. “Ow, you’re hurting me, Roman. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Though I loosened my grip, the intensity coursing through me was still thick. “What did she do, Belle?” I repeated.

“Chill out!” Melanie snapped, looking ready to jump in between us.

Jackson, my new counselor for the year as Eric had gone off to college, stepped in beside us. He was a good four inches shorter than I was, and quite honestly looked a little wary. I must’ve looked as livid as I felt.

“Everything okay over here?” he asked.

“We’re fine,” Isabelle answered, throwing him a bright smile. She maneuvered my arm in a flash so we were holding hands. It wasn’t the first time we had held hands, but this felt different. There was a strong current running up my arm from her touch that messed with my brain. Maybe it’s because we were getting older. Maybe it’s because I was truly starting to understand my feelings for her ran far deeper than friendship.

“We were just messing around,” I added.

The forced smile Jackson threw back at us was less than convincing. “You guys better grab a chair so we can start.”

Isabelle started for her usual spot, but I gently squeezed my hand around hers and tilted my head the other way. “Sit with me.”

With a frown, Isabelle said, “But there’s only one extra spot, and I told Mel I’d sit with her.”

“You can sit on my lap,” I suggested.

For a second Isabelle looked unsure, then threw me a timid smile. “Everyone is really going to think we’re going out.”

Instead of telling her I wanted that, I said, “Fuck ‘em. I’m going first again for solos anyway. You can keep my seat warm.”

Her eyes slightly widened when I swore, then she glanced at her friend.

“Whatever you want,” Melanie replied with a shrug.

Isabelle willingly came along with me then, her gaze curious like she knew I was up to something. I could hardly wait to sing the song I had picked out for her this year. It was becoming a tradition to sing something that represented our relationship, and I was ready to take it one step further.

After I set my guitar on the ground by my feet, Isabelle perched on my legs as Jackson went through the motions of greeting the group and initiating new campers. She hardly weighed anything, and the sensation of her butt digging into my legs drove me wild. In a good way. As in I had to adjust my pants before anyone saw just how much I liked having her on my lap.

I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or annoyed when Jackson asked who was up first. After gently nudging Isabelle from my lap, I plucked my guitar off the ground and jumped to my feet.

“It’s kind of the tradition that I go first,” I informed him in a cocky voice.

A couple of the other campers chuckled.

Jackson shrugged, and gestured for me to continue. “Alright then, Roman, let’s hear what you’ve got.”

I cleared my throat and ran my fingers over the chords, all at once feeling more confident than usual with Isabelle sitting so close. At first it was hard to adjust to going from a tenor to a bass, but after spending countless hours alone in my father’s condo, I had ample time to adjust.

I also had time to teach myself more complicated chords on the guitar, and write original songs. Half of them were probably crap, but it was a way to kill time whenever I grew tired of lifting weights or hanging with the mindless idiots that, for some reason, I still called my friends. Music had become my escape. It was the only place where I was in total control. My coaches, teachers, and parents didn’t have any say, though my mother relentlessly continued to try. When immersed in the world of whole notes and broken chords, I could feel Isabelle’s presence even though she was thousands of miles away.

She claimed to like the original songs I sang to her over the phone, but I wasn’t so sure she was capable of handing out anything other than praise. Until I started writing down the lyrics so I wouldn’t forget them, I hadn’t realized they all centered around my feelings for her. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything.

With my head bowed, and my fingers practically strumming on their own, I sang to the only girl I had ever loved.