I instantly regretted not chasing after Isabelle the night she ran away from the campfire. She had become my closest friend, someone I could say almost anything to without worrying about whether or not I sounded cool. And I treated her like all the other jerks at camp.

I should’ve told Brooke to shut up. I should’ve stood up and reminded them Isabelle was my friend. I don’t know why I didn’t do any of those things, except that I was taking on the burden of her embarrassment, as if it was happening to me.

Brooke and I hung out a lot back in New York. Not really because I wanted to, but we had the same friends, and our families got together often. She was decent when we were around our crew, but sometimes she’d pick on other kids who weren’t considered popular, reminding me why I was always pushing her away. I always knew she was just waiting for me to ask her out, but I would never want someone that mean to be my girlfriend.

But I didn’t want Isabelle to be my girlfriend either. Even if she didn’t live so far away, that kind of thing never lasts, and all school year I counted on our weekend calls to get me through the hard stuff. Ninth grade was a little harder. My father expected me to earn a 4.0 every semester. My mother was more determined than ever to make me a star. My coaches in football and basketball moved me up to play varsity. The pressure to please everyone had become too much. Talking to Isabelle about the kind of things in my life that made me happy seemed to be the only way to keep myself from cracking.

Still, I was no dummy. With her excited greeting, I noticed every little change from the summer before. She was no longer thin and gangly, and her body wasn’t the only thing that had filled out. Her eyelashes seemed thicker, making her big brown eyes stand out even more than before, and her cheeks were no longer round with baby fat. She wasn’t just my buddy anymore. She was starting a transformation and becoming undeniably beautiful. I knew all the other guys would start to take notice even before they started making crude comments. I figured the more attention I gave her, the more they’d give me crap. I didn’t want to draw added attention to the fact that she had changed. She was special to me, and I’d do whatever it took to protect her.

After final lights out call that night, I tossed and turned, but knew I wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon. So about an hour later, when I heard Eric’s quiet snores, I threw my sweatshirt on and grabbed my flashlight before slipping out into the mildly chilled night.

At first I didn’t have any idea what I was doing. I knew which cabin Isabelle had been assigned to, but I had no clue how I was going to talk to her in a room full of sleeping girls without getting into deep shit with both our counselors.

I was close to Cabin 4A when I heard sniffling behind the building. “Is somebody out there?” I whispered, turning my flashlight in the direction of the noise.

The light landed on Isabelle where she was curled around herself against a tree. She looked so small and vulnerable that my heart literally hurt. Sitting tall, she shielded her tear-stained face. “I—I’m not feeling good. I didn’t want to wake the others.”

Lowering the light from her face, I rushed to her. “Belle, I’m sorry…” I began. But I didn’t know what else to say.

Her expression fell when she realized it was me. She sunk back into herself, covering her face with both hands. “Go away, Roman!”

Having her turn me away like that hurt more than I’d be willing to admit. Letting my shoulders drop, I said quietly, “I really missed you.”

She didn’t say anything, and her cries became louder. Moving over to her side, I put my arm around her shoulders. I didn’t have any idea what else to do. I was a fourteen-year-old boy. I didn’t know what words to use to make her feel better. I didn’t know how to tell her what she meant to me without it coming out all wrong. I told her I was sorry, and I had meant it. But that wasn’t enough.

She dropped her head against me and eventually stopped crying. We sat like that in silence for what could’ve been minutes or hours. I didn’t care. I only knew I had won my girl back.

* * *

That summer there was a minor shift in our relationship. Isabelle became close with Melanie, and I hung out more with the guys. I suppose part of it was because we were going through the raging emotions that came with being teenagers, and we had both changed. Isabelle wasn’t quite as shy as the summer before. There was clearly a wall of tension between her and Brooke after the first night, but I was on vigil watch to keep Brooke from bullying her any further.

There were times when our cabins would do activities together. We’d hang out for a handful of minutes, but it wasn’t like before. We didn't eat meals together, or go on hikes alone. In a way I was relieved, because I worried if we were alone I’d do something stupid like try to kiss her. I didn’t want a summer fling with Isabelle. Regardless, I missed having her all to myself.

A few days before the first of July, I prepared myself for Isabelle’s birthday. With memories of the prior year, I was panicked as hell. In all the hours we spent talking on the phone, I only knew that her parents had died a few years back, and that she was living with an aunt near Fresno. Aside from what classes she took, the kind of music she liked, and the names of a few of her friends, I didn’t know much else about her. I had no idea why the sight of those two roses had triggered a disturbing reaction, why she didn’t celebrate her birthday, or why she had walked into the lake. I was scared that by acknowledging her birthday, I would somehow ruin her day.

So I wrote her a song, hoping to make her understand in my own way how much she meant. I knew how to read notes from music classes and several years of singing off sheet music, but drawing them on paper was lost on me. Not only that, but I was still fairly new to the guitar and felt more comfortable finding my way around notes by ear. I played around with a few different chords and hummed a little tune until I had something put together that I thought Isabelle would like.

On her birthday I kept a watchful eye from afar. She seemed to be doing fine, though I suspected no one else remembered it was her birthday. During swimming block late in the afternoon, I gradually started to pay her attention, splashing her and Melanie until she came after me, trying to pull me under. It was impossible not to notice that she had switched from the usual plain red one-piece swimsuit to a modest bikini bottom with a tie-died triangle top. I too often found myself staring at the roundness of her butt cheeks or the new bumps of her growing tits. That afternoon we laughed together, carrying on the same way we had at the end of the first summer. I loved every fucking second.

When it came time for sound off after dinner, my mouth started to dry out and my palms were slick with sweat. As usual, Isabelle sat across from me on the other side of the fire next to Melanie. I had pushed Brooke away enough over the past few weeks that she no longer tried to sit by me at night, so at least I didn’t have to worry about her trying to ruin my surprise.

For the first time in years, I was scared shitless that my stutter would return. What if everyone thought my song was dumb? What if Isabelle hated it?

There wasn’t a lot of time to let my worries fester because I had told Eric earlier in the day that I wanted to play something special, and he announced right away it was my turn. My hands shook as I picked up the guitar and started to play. The words I knew I had to sing felt heavy in my gut, like they were cemented there. I cleared my throat a couple of times, but missed my mark.

“Oops, hold on,” I murmured. A few of the guys chuckled quietly, but everyone seemed to be on edge, waiting to hear what strange tune I was about to play. I repeated the same chords before finally finding my voice. Thankfully the words came out crystal clear without a stutter to be heard.

While strumming the final chords, I looked up at Eric, my face hot with embarrassment, and said, “That’s all I’ve written so far.”

It was scary quiet for a minute. Finally Eric said, “Whoa,” in his deep voice. Then the applause started, slow and unsure before someone whistled and everyone began clapping wildly among shouting and cheers of “yeah!”

Then I dared to look at Isabelle over the fire and found her completely motionless. It was hard to say if she was crying, or if the fire just made her eyes look glossy. I gave her the kind of smile I knew she had a hard time not responding to, but those big eyes simply blinked back at me.

“That was awesome!” Eric declared, moving around behind me to squeeze my shoulder. “You came up with that all on your own?”

I nodded, and my friends started up with more questions and declarations of awesomeness. Their praise felt amazing, but I still worried sick that Isabelle hated it.

* * *

After last call for lights out later that night, I lay perfectly still in my bunk until I was sure Eric was sound asleep. I had to know what Isabelle thought of my song. Had I scared her? Freaked her out? She hurried away after sound off, so I never got a chance to say anything to her before we returned to our cabins.

I wasn’t lucky enough to find her outside again, so I snuck over to the back window closest to where I thought her bed would be. Guys weren’t allowed in the girls’ cabins, but one night the week before, I was gathering wood for the sound off and happened to catch her by the window. She pulled a sweatshirt over her head before plopping down on a bed. I crossed my fingers that it was either her bed or Melanie’s that she was on, and not their counselor’s.

When I looked through the screen, I was met with the smell of flowers and the soft snores of a couple dozen girls. All I could see were dark lumps on every bunk.

“Belle!” I whispered in a harsh voice.

“Who’s out there?” a girl whispered back. I didn’t recognize the voice at first.

“Where’s Isabelle?”

“Oh…hold on.” That time I realized the voice belonged to Melanie. Most of the girls at camp would likely be cool with me coming to their window in the middle of the night, but there could still always be the one who thinks it’s her duty to report anyone who’s breaking curfew.

A dark shadow moved across the window. There must’ve been just enough moonlight for her to see my face. “Roman?” she whispered, her voice unusually high. “What are you doing here?”

“Can you come out for a minute?”

“Yeah…I guess. Wait out back by the trees.”

I moved over to where the open layout of the camp met a tall wall of pines, and lay in the prickly grass, clearing away a cluster of giant pinecones. My grandma took me to visit upstate New York often, but it still didn’t hold a candle to the beauty of Tahoe. But it was really more about the people I was surrounded with, and less to do with the locations. My parents didn’t want me around, and my buddies back home were just guys I played video games with, or teammates.

I looked up at the sky as I waited, all at once inspired by the stars dotting the dark sky, framed by the pointed treetops. Writing my first song had been easy enough, and I wondered if something like that would come to me again. Unless the song wasn’t any good. Then it wouldn’t matter.

“What’s going on?” Isabelle asked, suddenly standing over me. She was exceptionally beautiful by the light of the moon and stars. Her silhouette was narrow and graceful while the whites of her eyes shone bright through the darkness. For a second I forgot how to breathe.

Then I motioned her down with my fingers. “Come here and look at this.”

“What if there are spiders down there?” I couldn’t see her nose crinkle, but I could hear it in her voice. “What if they climb into my hair?”

I chuckled quietly. “They’re just as scared of you as you are of them. Come on, I won’t let them crawl into your hair. You can put your head on me if it would make you feel any better.”

She let out a deep sigh before settling down perpendicular to me and setting her head on my stomach. I was all at once hyper aware of her coconut scented hair and the warmth of her head against my stomach. Something wild fluttered in my gut.

“Whoa, that’s really pretty,” she said, staring up at the stars. “I kind of wish they’d let us camp out here some night. It’s nothing like the sky we see back home.” The vibration of her voice against my stomach did strange things to my body, making my dick thicken.

I grunted in response. “It’s weird that we’re only half a day’s drive away from where you live. I wish I could go there.”

“No you don’t. Trust me. There’s not much to see. But I wish I could see where you live. I’ve never been outside of California.”

My fingers reached out on their own to tangle in a strand of her hair. It was soft and smooth, the way I had started to imagine her lips would feel. “One day I’ll bring you to New York.”

“I could never afford something like that,” she said quietly.

“You wouldn’t need money. You’d be my guest.”

She didn’t say anything more as I smoothed more of her hair out across my stomach. “What did you think of my song?”

Her head shifted slightly as she took a deep breath. “It was…wow, Roman. I can’t believe you wrote that. Not because I don’t think you’re talented enough to do it, because you are. It’s just…you’re special. I mean your voice and the way you can strum a guitar when you just learned how to play…you could be the next Justin Bieber one day.”

When I laughed extra hard, her head bounced. “I’d much rather be the next Jimmy Page.”

“You know what I mean,” she said, her voice quiet as if embarrassed.

I pushed my fingers deeper into her hair, lightly massaging her scalp. “I-I w-wrote that s-song f-for you.”

The world ended.

Not really, but bile surged against my throat. My heart screeched to a painful stop. The stutter I spent years keeping at bay was back, and Isabelle wasn’t saying anything. I sucked in a painfully hard breath, waiting for her response. I was sure she was going to stand up and run as fast as her legs would carry her.

“I kind of guessed you did,” she said in a soft voice.

Then she sat up. I almost burst into tears like a little kid, knowing she was getting ready to run. I had screwed things up and lost my best friend.

But then she leaned over me, her hair making a veil around us. Her eyes were shining down on me through the darkness, wet with tears. “That was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Then she gathered her hair behind her head, leaned down, and pressed her lips against my cheek. They were soft, warm, damp with tears, and filled with an unspoken promise to love me no matter if I stuttered or made a fool of myself in any other way.

That was the summer I knew without a doubt that my life would never be the same.

I was madly in love.