Well. Van Thompson was much as she remembered. Quirky, awkward, and yeah, really fucking hot. She wasn’t wearing glasses right now—maybe contacts?—but Willa had every hope she would be soon. The outfit Van had on shouldn’t have worked, and probably wouldn’t have on anyone else, but on her it was nothing short of magical.

High-waisted pants emphasized the flare of Van’s hips, and they were topped with suspenders fastened over a sleeveless button-down. Willa envied Van’s ability to wear a button-down—damn things always gaped in a wildly inappropriate way on her—and surely that was the only reason she found her gaze drawn to Van’s chest. Not that she was contemplating exactly what was under her shirt.

Willa forced her attention to the badass Wonder Woman Chucks that were rapidly moving down the path toward the cabin she’d be sharing with Van for…what had Nate said? Six weeks left of camp?

It was going to be torture if the past two minutes were any indication.

She followed Van through the wooded clusters of cabins, listening to her parents chatter back and forth about their plans for the weekend. Apparently they were going to some big antique fair and then golfing with the Mitchells, and on Sunday, after her mother did her weeding, they were supposed to go to a concert at Tanglewood because they were the world’s most perfect retired couple.

Seeing them always made her wonder if she’d be able to find someone who she wanted to grow old with and what that person might be like. She had some ideas, but as any scientist worth their salt knew, hypotheses and realities didn’t always mesh.

Nate was standing—or really, slumping—at the door to the cabin. Van had been right about him not being down with the crutches yet. He hobbled onto the porch and looked as though he might fall down the stairs. Luckily her father waved Nate back into the cabin he’d called home for the beginning of the summer and where she would stay through the end.

“Don’t make it worse, tiger. You’ve had your mother fretting enough.”

Nate laughed and shook his head, but did as he was told, managing to go into the small building without another incident that would require a trip to an ER. Then went Van, followed by her parents, and last, Willa with a duffel bag full of tennis clothes and shoes and bathing suits and sunscreen that she proceeded to drop on what was clearly her side of the room.

Van had never been a neat freak, and some things never changed. Neither had Nate, who nearly tripped her with a crutch as he dumped himself into a desk chair. “Welcome to Camp Firefly Falls, sis. May you break fewer limbs than I have.”

* * *

Once her parents, Nate, and all of Nate’s stuff were on their way back to the house in Fairfield, Willa set to putting her things away on her side of the cabin. It wasn’t a big space, nor was it particularly luxurious, but it was fun that way. It was like being back at the tennis camp she and Nate had gone to every summer, except here she and Van had a bathroom to themselves. They wouldn’t have to haul ass in the morning to the shower shed to relieve themselves.

Thank goodness, because there had been some freaky shit in the shower sheds, like giant moths attracted by the lights that stayed on all night and the occasional raccoon who’d gotten stuck in a trash bin. Even better, she wouldn’t have to share with dozens of girls and their innumerable toiletries. Just Van, who she suspected was a minimalist when it came to primping.

Yep, she didn’t think she’d have to fight with Van for valuable shelf space in the shower or towel hooks. Maybe who got to take a shower when, because they would have to share that every day. Which also meant Van would be naked on the other side of that flimsy door.

Not okay, Carter. Keep your eye on the ball. Be friendly.

Willa set a picture of her family on vacation at the Grand Canyon on her dresser. “So Nate told me you finished up your first year as a professor at UVA in May. How’d that go?”

Van blinked at her, as if she was surprised to be addressed. She’d always been owlish, looking a bit taken aback anyone other than Nate would want to converse with her.

“Fine.”

Willa waited for more, but it never came. Van had never been super-chatty, but when asked a direct question, especially about something she was presumably passionate about, she could be counted on to muster more than a one-word answer. And yet…

Yep, these six weeks were going to be interminable. She was curious, though, and—while she didn’t let on to hardly anyone about this—somewhat concerned about her own prospects in academia. So she pressed, hoping Van would perk up and have something to say. Give them something to bond over and maybe even make Willa feel better about being able to hack a PhD and then hopefully become a professor. “Are you super-psyched to have a tenure-track position? Those are getting harder to come by all the time.”

Indeed, Willa was painfully aware of the reality. Geology and physics weren’t exactly comparable, and Van was far more of an academic badass than Willa had ever been or would ever be, but still. She knew she had an uphill battle ahead of her if she wanted to be a professor, and maybe Van could inspire her.

“I suppose.”

Willa set out another picture and then turned fully toward Van, resting her hands on the edge of the dresser. This was a rather awkward conversation even for Van. Plus, it’s not as if she was trying to talk to Van about the US Open or some other thing she didn’t give a shit about. Academics were Van’s life. Well, outside of her love for all things Wonder Woman, Ghostbusters, and Star Wars at any rate.

“Well, I was hoping you might be able to give me some pointers. After I finish up with my PhD, I’m hoping to get a job in academia too.”

At that, Van’s head snapped up from where she’d been studying the pattern on her socks. “What?”

“Yeah, um, maybe Nate didn’t tell you?” Or maybe you didn’t care to ask? “I started a PhD in geology. First year down…a million to go.”

Well, probably more like four or five, depending on how her research went, but given that a good chunk of her research time had been scrapped because of that stupid cave collapse—

and she might have to reconsider the topic of her dissertation altogether if she couldn’t find a new site to do research at—it was looking longer and longer.

Willa expected at least a smile from Van; she’d found fellow advanced degree-seekers or holders to be endlessly willing and able to complain about academia, despite being grateful for it at the end of the day. Instead, she got a wrinkled nose and a “Why?”

“Why?” Willa echoed.

“Yeah, why? Because I’ve got to tell you, academia’s not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s fucking miserable if you want to know the truth. Besides, wouldn’t you rather be, I don’t know, playing tennis or something?”

Right. Because she was a dumb jock. “No, actually.”

She probably could’ve turned pro, with luck and timing, but the more she’d played at the college level, the less she had wanted to play tennis for a living. The insane amount of pressure sucked the fun out of the game. Whereas some people were energized by it, Willa had found it draining. She’d ended up retreating into her books and into the major she’d specifically chosen because it was supposed to be easy. They didn’t call Geology 101 Rocks for Jocks just because it rhymed.

But as things so often happen, one thing had led to another, and she’d fallen in love. With rocks. More specifically with caves and the formations within them: speleothems. Such a clunky name for such elegant things. Who knew that in addition to the things science hadn’t figured out about space or deep in the sea that there were still mysteries to be solved in the very earth upon which they walked? So freaking cool.

So she’d applied to grad programs at a few different schools, but had been pretty excited that she’d been able to stay at Stanford.

Willa waited in hopes maybe Van would apologize—say she was irritated with department politics or she hadn’t been awarded a grant she’d applied for, had a paper rejected from a journal she had her eyes on, or some other given frustration of academic life—but it didn’t come. Fine.

She had better things to do. Like eat and then meet up with Heather, the camp director who would be her boss, but who Nate had also said she’d likely get along with. A good thing too because apparently she and her bunkmate weren’t going to be bosom buddies.

“Well, I think I’ll go grab some lunch before the dining lodge closes.”

Van acknowledged her with a half-assed wave and no eye contact.

While Willa should’ve been annoyed, she was more sad. It had been one thing to be rejected by Nate and Van when they were kids and she was small and—now she could admit—totally not prepared to join their games. Seven years when they were kids had seemed like an insurmountable difference. Now, though, it didn’t seem like such a big deal. Plus, being blown off as a grown-up by someone who she both admired and found attractive? That was the pits, especially since she’d have to see Van every freaking day for the next six weeks. Maybe this camp thing hadn’t been such a great idea after all.