The first week at Camp Riley had gone by surprisingly fast. Mr. Jimmy was a slave driver, but there was something about him that made the work easy to endure. He had an easy-going way, yet still commanded sweat and blood from the laborious tasks he doled out to Devon and me. Today, our job was to split wood for the fire pits scattered all over the camp. Even though I thought it was too damn hot to sit around a campfire, the younger kids seemed immune. They spent their evenings roasting marshmallows, singing, and playing tunes for each other on their shiny instruments.

I, on the other hand, spent the evenings alone in the loft, patiently waiting for Cadence to invite me to her secret place by the lake. I tried to get her out of my head, but it was damn near impossible. That blond was now buried under my skin and she unknowingly had my head going to all kinds of places it shouldn’t.

The problem was, I barely saw her. I wondered if she was deliberately staying away from me or if she was just too busy with her own camp duties. If I saw her, it was usually in the cafeteria during the dinner hour, looking like she just stepped off the pages of For Him Magazine. The crazy thing about it was I knew she didn’t even try to look that damn good, it was just natural. However, the minute I spotted her, she seemed to vanish in the crowd of ravenous campers all vying to get their meals.

Tonight, I laid on the thin mattress that covered my bale of hay, staring absently at the wood rafters of the ceiling. I was bored out of my fucking mind. Devon had taken off more than an hour ago, having made plans with yet another chick working the camp. Of course, he gave me hell for not joining him. He said I was pussy-whipped for sitting here, pining over a girl who wanted nothing to do with me. If I heard him say one more time I needed to go out, find a random chick, and get laid, I thought I would knock his teeth out.

I told him to fuck off instead.

Seven nights here, and I think he’d shacked up with seven different girls. He was the one who was the fool. The minute they all started talking to one another, the shit was bound to blow up in his face. I was tired of that sort of drama.

My stomach growled. Lugging the chopped wood to all the cottages had taken longer than expected and caused Devon and me to get to Creator Hall late. By the time we arrived, there wasn’t much food left. I needed more to eat than just the small bowl of cold pasta salad I managed to scrape up. I glanced at my watch and saw it was nearing eight. The students should have cleared out from the cafeteria by now.

My insides rumbled again. Sitting up, I swung my legs over the side of the makeshift bed and slipped into my leather Birkenstocks. There had to be something else in the kitchen I could grab. If not, I would grab a bag of chips from The Flourish. It wasn’t a very nutritious option, but it was better than nothing. Climbing down the ladder, I headed out to search for food.

Once I reached Creator Hall, I pulled open the heavy wood door. I halted in my tracks when I saw a familiar head of long blond waves. I’d recognize those golden strands that I itched to run my fingers through anywhere.

Cadence was seated at a table with her back to me. I smiled to myself as I proceeded forward in her direction. I forgot all about the food I came here in search of. Just seeing her again made me completely numb to any hunger pains I had been experiencing. She was wearing a tank top again tonight. It was a light purple one this time. But much to my disappointment, I could see white bra straps peeking out at her shoulders and knew I wouldn’t be getting the same show I received on the night I arrived.

Such a shame.

On closer inspection, I also noticed a tattoo on the back of her right shoulder. It was strange I hadn’t seen it before, but then again, she normally wore a short-sleeved t-shirt with the Camp Riley logo during the day. Seeing the ink on her was surprising. She didn’t seem like the type to have a tattoo. She was just too…reserved.

Maybe there’s a little rebel hiding in there somewhere after all.

I slowly walked a few steps toward her so I could get a closer look at her ink. It was a tattoo of a flower and a stark contrast against the creamy color of her skin. The petals were filled in with a pale blue. Leaves shaded in muted green, gray, and black poked out from behind the flower, flowing down into an intricate scroll that disappeared under the seam of her tank. The overall design was small and feminine–just like her.

She was hunched over and appeared to be writing in a notebook. She had headphones on with the cord extending to a Walkman that was resting on the table in front of her. The music in her ears must have muffled any sound I made when I came in. So intently focused on what she was doing, she also hadn’t seen me. I took another step closer and peered over her shoulder.

She wasn’t writing in a notebook like I originally thought. She was drawing on a sketchpad, creating an image of a flower, similar to the tat on her shoulder. I watched the tip of her pencil shade the edges of the petals, creating highlights where necessary to bring the drawing to life.

“That’s really good,” I observed.

Cadence jumped and quickly flipped over the sketchpad to hide the drawing. When she turned around, her eyes narrowed into a sharp glare when she saw I was the one standing behind her. She ripped the headphones from her head and tossed them on the table.

“Why are you always spying on me?” she accused.

I felt the right corner of my mouth tip up in amusement.

“Relax, sweet–” I stopped, nearly calling her ‘sweetheart’ again and watched as her glare darkened. “I was hungry. I just came in to see if the kitchen had saved any of the leftovers from today. I didn’t even know you were in here.”

Her eyes flashed with accusation.

“You were about to call me sweetheart again, weren’t you?”

“Maybe,” I admitted with a wink.

“Well, don’t do it.”

“Why not? It’s a fitting nickname for you, Cadence.”

“Oh, really?” she admonished sarcastically.

I inched forward. Her face was tilted up to look at me. There wasn’t anything sweet about her sassy attitude–not at all–but I was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of what was underneath all that sass the night I walked her home. There was a sweet innocence about her, a shyness that was endearing. Then there were those lips of hers. They were lush and full, her upper lip outlining a perfect heart shape.

As if my arm had a mind of its own, I reached up and traced the line of her lip with the tip of my finger. Her eyes widened, and I felt the sudden intake of her breath, but she didn’t push my hand away.

“Your mouth. It’s shaped like a heart,” I told her, surprised by the brutal honesty of my words. “I imagine it tasting sweet. I can’t help but call you sweetheart.”

She flushed a violent shade of red before pulling her head away from my touch. The sizzling connection broke, leaving me stunned over the intimate moment.

I shouldn’t have touched her like that. It wasn’t sexual–it was so much more than that. And it was extremely unnerving. Still, I ached to touch her again, to feel her warm skin against my fingertips.

She turned back to her drawing pad and picked up her pencil.

“Go away, Fitz,” she muttered.

I eyed up the sketchpad that still sat face down on the laminate surface. I knew she was waiting for me to leave before she flipped it back over. On impulse, I snatched it up.

“Hey, give that to me!” Cadence shrieked. She stood and tried to pull it from my hands, but I was too fast. I sidestepped her effortlessly and began to retreat backward.

“I’m still waiting for my invitation to the lake. But…” I drawled out. “I think someone’s been avoiding me. Invite me to the lake, and I’ll give your drawing book back.”

“Fitz, that’s mine,” she warned as she advanced toward me.

Turning on my heel, I quickly dashed toward the cafeteria doors. Pushing through them, the humid night air assaulted me.

I could hear Cadence yelling at my back, and I laughed. Pausing in my retreat, I turned and tilted my lips up into a mischievous grin. She was standing inside the door to Creator Hall, her hands on her hips.

“If you want it, come get it,” I teased.

“Damn it, Fitz! Don’t be a jerk! I told you to give it back!”

Instead of heeding her demands, I took off running. I knew it was juvenile, but there was something about the way she constantly avoided me that had driven me to insanity. I wanted to break down the barriers she tried to put up. I didn’t know why. I only knew, during the lonely nights in the loft over the past week, she was all I could think about. My need to get to know her had become an obsession.

I ran with no destination in mind and was surprised when I reached the outskirts of the camp, the path to the lake just up ahead. An idea struck. If she wouldn’t invite me to the lake, it was time to take matters into my own hands.