Her silhouette frames the flap of the tent as she unzips it, glances behind her, and whispers, “Coast is clear.”

I smile at the sight of her sneaking into my tent at midnight. This is a fantasy come to life.

But I silently curse my reality. I can’t get any closer to her. That’s too risky. Too tempting. I don’t stop her, though, from crawling into my tent. Surely I can be near her without kissing her senseless and sliding her under me.

Mia sits cross-legged, her dimples peeking at me briefly.

“Hi,” she whispers, taking me back instantly to her hi the night we were first together in my bed.

“Hey.” I shift in my sleeping bag, propping myself on my elbow.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she says softly, her lips curving in a guilty grin.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I echo.

She looks at the tent flap, zipped down. “I don’t want to go.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Therein lies the dilemma,” she murmurs. She takes a deep breath. “Should I go?”

“You should . . .” I inch my hand closer to her.

She glances down at my wandering fingers. “I don’t want to tempt . . .”

Heat rushes over my skin. “Tempt you or me?”

She swallows. “Either one of us.”

I draw a deep breath. “Guess there’s nothing wrong with us just talking, right?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing at all.”

I reach her leg and run my fingers across her shin where her yoga pants stop. Her lips fall open in a gasp, and her hand flies to her mouth, covering her sound. A grin plays on my lips. I love that the slightest touch from me turns her on.

“How are you?” I ask.

“I’m turned on now, and it’s all your fault.”

My fingers travel higher to her knee.

She bites her lip and scoots closer. I brush my fingertips over her thigh, and she closes her eyes, her lips parting as a soft sigh of pleasure falls from them.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I whisper again.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she says, as if she’s in a trance.

My fingers roam up her legs, and I register every move she makes. The way her knees subtly open wider. How she stretches her neck. The way her hair falls against her skin. How her back arches, as a shudder runs through her whole body when my hand reaches hers and I take it in mine.

“Why are you here then?” I ask, craving her answer. It’s torture, absolute torture being this close to her. But I welcome it because even some of Mia is worth the torment.

Her breath is ragged. Her eyes flutter open. She leans closer, bringing her face nearer to mine. “You’re hard to resist,” she says, and her admission spreads warmth all through me.

“I like knowing it’s hard for you, too.” My fingers continue their journey, reaching her hip. “Why do you have a fox tattoo? I never asked you before.”

She smiles. “A fox was the first animal I rescued in the wild.”

“Yeah?”

“When I was nine, I found a little kit in the woods near my home. My parents were working, so Max helped me bring it safely to the house, and he called WildCare while Chase tended to it.”

I laugh softly. “Dr. Chase’s beginnings as a foxy doctor, revealed on the ten p.m. news.”

“The truth comes out.”

“That’s why you volunteer at WildCare.”

“That’s why I do what I do at Pure Beauty,” she says with passion. “I love animals, and I’ve wanted to help them my whole life. I don’t want to hurt them; I don’t want to test on them. That’s why I started this company, because I love pretty scents and smells and lotions and potions, and I want to show that it’s possible to have everything coexist.”

I squeeze her thigh. “I love that you feel that way. It’s a gift to do what you love.”

“Didn’t your favorite writer say, Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still?”

“Been studying up on Thoreau’s best quotes?”

“Maybe I have. I believe that, too, though. That’s why I want to do right by Pure Beauty.” She tips her head to indicate the others in their tents, and nervousness flicks across her eyes. “I want them to enjoy working with me. And I hope they’re having a good time, but also learning and growing.”

“They are,” I assure her.

“Thank you for doing such an amazing job, Patrick. These few days have been incredible so far.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. And that’s also why I won’t pull you into my sleeping bag right now. I love what I do, too. I want to do right by my people, as well.”

“You are doing right by them.” She lays her hand on my sleeping bag, finding and then pressing my hip. “And by me.”

I stifle a groan as she repays me by traveling across my hipbone to my leg, and then to the outline of my erection.

I grab her hand, stopping her. “I can’t.”

She swallows and nods. “I know. I’m sorry,”

“Don’t be sorry,” I whisper. “Just come back when it’s over.”

She leans near me, her hair framing her face, tickling my cheeks. “Good night, Patrick,” she whispers, then she backs out of the tent, zipping it closed.

She’s gone, and there’s a part of me that thinks she won’t come back. There’s a dark part of my heart that fears this surreal sliver of time is all I’ll ever have with her. That we won’t ever be on the same page. What if Max was right to worry about me meeting the same fate as that other guy?

The guy she didn’t love enough.

I should be happy with her unexpected midnight visit. Instead, I’m left not only with an annoying erection, but also with this persistent ache for her in my heart.

Good night, Patrick.

I love you, Mia.

That’s what I want to say.

That’s what I want to tell her.

I park my hands under my head and stare at the roof of my tent, wishing I could ask her if we’re on the same page, if she’ll come back when this is over. Instead, I’m searching for the answer in a night sky I can’t even see.

But there are no stars to guide me.

* * *

In the morning, I rise before everyone else, as the early blue light of dawn begins painting the horizon. I survey the campsite, the orange and green and yellow tents dotting the ground.

I take a deep breath, turn, and walk away from the clearing, along a trail I know well. I have always found answers in the outdoors. Trees have never led me astray, and sunrises have constantly anchored me. The earth has always been honest. I flash back to the moments in my life when I felt the same weight in my chest, a heavy unknown ache.

Where to go to college.

What to study.

Whether to pursue a safe, comfortable career in an office or to take a chance at building a business doing what I love.

Now I need another answer. I need to know if it’s time to go all in one more time. To bet everything.

The trouble is, ever since Max told me about Eric, I’ve been determined to prove I’m different from a guy I know nothing about.

That’s what’s driving me crazy.

My focus has been all wrong.

As I walk along the trail, the lightening sky keeping me company, I think of Mia, and all the times we’ve shared. I think of our nights, our days, our moments. I’ve been so caught up in whether they’ll become more than that, that I’m not sure I’ve seen them completely for what they are.

My perfect days.

I remember the time I took Mia and Zeus for a hike near Cold Spring, and she quoted my favorite writer. “I took a walk in the woods and came out taller than the trees.”

But that’s not the Thoreau quote that drives me on. Instead, the one that’s been my compass and my guide does. The one about walking toward your dream, and living the life you’ve imagined.

Mia is the life I’ve imagined. She’s the dream I want to make real.

No more of this surreal stuff. I’m not interested in an in-between state. I can’t dwell on moments, and I definitely can’t dwell on the past.

The other guy? The one she never loved? I know now he doesn’t matter. He has nothing to do with us. What unfolds between Mia and me is between us, and I have it in my power to do everything I can to make sure she’s mine.

Starting with telling her how much I want her to be my future. All of it, all of her. Always.

I turn around and head in the direction of the campsite.