by Jenna Scott
“He shouldn’t have touched you at all. Aren’t there school policies against that? I should report the guy.”
Her jaw drops, and she shoots me a glare. “Don’t you dare. I need this TAship. And Laurens did nothing wrong. That was a totally neutral, completely not creepy shoulder touch. He jokes around with me the same way he does with everyone else. Plus, I’m pretty sure he’s married.” She crosses her arms and leans back in her chair.
“My dad’s married,” I remind her. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“He’s a good professor and a nice guy. Nothing’s going on. End of story.”
I lean closer and bring up the obvious. “Wasn’t Mr. Harris nice too?”
That shuts her up for a moment.
“This is different. I’m his TA. We have to work together. The fact that we have a good rapport is—”
“How is it different?” I’m getting louder the more worked up I get, but I can’t help myself. “This is exactly what happened to you in high school all over again.”
“No. Just—no. This is not even remotely the same. And to be honest, you’re making me really regret telling you about it,” she hisses.
I let out a bitter laugh. “I honestly don’t understand how you can’t see it. The guy is hot for you. It’s clear as day. I’m a guy, too, Milla. I would know.”
“If I thought every teacher was like Mr. Harris, then I never would’ve gone back to school,” Milla says. She’s angry, and the color in her cheeks is up. I’d probably be turned on by it if this fight wasn’t spinning out of control. “I’d have switched to homeschooling, and never gone to Oak Academy. And I never would have met you. Are you saying it would have been better for me to just…trust nobody, ever, and throw away any chance I had at a future because of some skeevy middle-aged man who couldn’t keep his hands to himself?”
Her words sink to my stomach like a boulder. She’s right about trusting people—life’s not worth much if you block yourself off from living it and you have zero faith in humanity. At the same time, I don’t like the vibe I got from this guy.
“I get what you’re saying,” I tell her. “And I trust you. But it’s hard for me to trust other people around you. I worry about you.”
Her gaze softens. “You do?”
“All the time. Even this summer, when we weren’t together,” I admit. “I think about you every day. Every night. Especially at night.”
Judging by Milla’s face, my confession is making her straight up melt.
“I trust you, too,” she says softly.
The tension that’s been hanging heavy between us like a dark cloud suddenly lifts, but I know there’s still so much that’s gone unsaid. By me, mostly. Maybe it’s time to fix that. Because the thing is, now that I have Milla back in my life, I can’t risk losing her again.
“Let me walk you to class,” I say. “I don’t want you to be late.”
I have something to ask her, but I don’t want to do it here, in the middle of a crowded, loud ass cafeteria, with trays of half-eaten food in front of us and the smell of sautéed garlic in the air.
Once we’re outside, I find myself tongue-tied. What do I even say? What if she rejects me? Why did I think this would be easy? I talk a lot of game in my head, but when it comes to Camilla, I never feel as confident as I do with other girls.
Minutes later, we get to Jordan Hall and I realize my time is up.
“I guess I’ll see you later?” Milla says, adjusting her backpack over her shoulder.
“Yeah.”
She’s about to walk away from me, and I reach for her on pure instinct, pushing her against the brick wall of the building and covering her mouth with mine. The kiss is over way too soon, both of us pulling back breathlessly.
“Was that for luck?” she asks.
“I want to see you,” I say.
Milla smiles. “Okay. I want to see you, too. We can see each other.”
“No. I mean…” Running my hand through the air, I try to get a grip, knowing I’m not getting my point across and that she has to get to class any second. “I mean, I want to be with you. Just you. And I don’t want you to be with anyone else, either. Is that something, I don’t know, you might be open to?”
Narrowing her eyes, smirk playing at her lips, Milla says, “Hunter Beck, are you trying to ask me if I want to be in an exclusive relationship with you?”
“No,” I say. Her face falls a little, and I lean closer. “I want more than that. I’m asking you to be my girlfriend.”
Her eyes are searching mine, and I’m not sure what she sees there. My heart is like a jackhammer, my gut is clenched, my palms are damp.
“Okay,” she finally says. “I’m gonna give you one more chance to not suck.”
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I’m barking out a laugh.
“I won’t suck. I promise. Well, maybe I will suck. But not on purpose. Milla, I’m gonna try so hard to not suck this time.” We’re both laughing now, and I tuck her hair behind her ear and then whisper softly, “Unless it’s the good kind of sucking.”
She kisses me, and then says, “Hunter, I really, really have to go.”
“Okay.” I grab her and kiss her one more time. “Okay, go.”
“I’m going.”
And then she turns around and dashes inside the building.
I feel like I’m on a cloud as I walk to my cooler-than-I-expected Understanding China through Film class. My mind is racing with ideas about all the stuff I want to do with (and for) Milla now that we’re together again—I want to see her happy, as happy as she was that day at Disneyland or when I brought her to Loma to see the lighthouse. I want to sweep her off her feet and keep her there.
Midway through class, I have it. It’s the perfect place.
Sliding my phone out of my pocket during the movie, I turn the screen brightness as far down as I can and tap out a text.
Can I take you camping this weekend?
Knowing Milla’s in class, I don’t expect a response for at least another hour or two, but she must be on a break because she texts back right away.
Yes.
Just that one word is enough to give me a head rush. I’m about to put my phone away when it buzzes again in my hand. Why camping?
That’s easy. I tap back, I want to show you the stars.
Her reply comes fast: I bet that’s not all you want to show me…
I’m smiling ear to ear for the entire rest of the class.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Camilla
Olivia breaks into a cackle when she finds out I’m planning to spend my weekend out in the wilderness with Hunter. “You’re not gonna go camping. You’re going to a sexcapade. Not that I’m judging.”
Any vacation with Hunter would be a sexcapade. I let out a low laugh. “Yeah, true. Especially now that we’re official.”
It’s Friday night and I’m packing for the trip while Olivia sits on the floor of my room putting on makeup. As usual, she’s getting ready for a party. Her sequin skirt and black leather jacket combo look amazing.
She glances over as she brushes her cheeks with blush. “How are you feeling about all that, by the way? The whole…dating-the-ex thing.”
“Good.” I think about it some more, and then nod. “I mean, cautious but good. I’m not expecting some fairy tale or anything, but…we’re different people now. Especially since we talked a lot of things over. I hope we get it right this time around.”
“It sounds like he’s the one who fucked up the first time, not you,” Olivia says.
“Maybe…but I need to give this a shot. See if he can be the person I know he is, underneath all the teenage boy crap. We really do care about each other. A lot.”
“I know. I’m just giving you shit,” she says, coming over to give me a hug. “And honestly, I hope it’s amazing. I hope it’s everything you want it to be. Just don’t expect me to hold back if he breaks your heart again. Because I will destroy him.”
“I don’t doubt that,” I say.
She pulls away and starts packing up the candy-colored cosmetics spread all over the floor. “So what time are you guys heading out tomorrow?”
“Around eight, he said.”
“AM? On a Saturday?” Olivia gasps. “The horror.”
“He wants to get there early enough to get us a good camping spot, and then take me on a hike and stuff. I also have no idea how far away it is. It could be a road trip.”
“Makes sense, and all, but…ugh. You wouldn’t catch me dead getting out of bed before noon on a Saturday. I need my beauty sleep.” With that, she zips up her makeup bag and gives me a wink.
“You?” I scoff. “Never. Even bedhead looks good on you.”
“And this is why I love you,” she says. “Don’t wait up.”
“You know I will anyway. Gatorade and all.”
After Olivia’s gone and my overnight bag is packed, I text Isabel to say I can’t make our FaceTime date on Saturday. It takes me a little longer to work up the courage to tell her why. Rather than text me back, she calls. Right away.
I tap the accept button and squeeze my eyes shut. “Hello?” I choke out.
“Milla,” she hisses, sounding more shocked than disappointed. “You have a lot of explaining to do. Not that I’m surprised, but at the same time…yeah, I’m surprised. Just…God, how did this even happen? What did he even do to earn another chance?”
“He took me to an all-you-can-eat ice cream buffet.”
“Milla.”
“I’m kidding! Or not—he did take me there—but that wasn’t the only thing. Remember when you said he had to apologize first and then earn my trust back? Well, he did apologize. Multiple times. For all the things.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And I do trust him.” I say the next part in a rush because I’m full of nerves. “And also I slept at his place earlier this week and now we’re sort of dating again.”
For a moment, all I hear is breathing on the other end of the phone.
“You guys boinked?” Isabel finally says.
“In a word…yes.”
“No wonder you’ve been avoiding me all week! You knew I wouldn’t approve!”
“Do you hate this?” I ask. This is exactly what I’ve been afraid of. “Do you hate me?”
“Oh, Milla.” Isabel sighs. “You goose. Don’t ever say that. I love you and I think you’re the best human and I just want you to be happy. I also want you to only date people who treat you like the goddess you are. So…as much as I have reservations about this…I’m open to seeing where it all goes. I know it’s what you want.”
I let out a huge breath of relief. “Thank you. Having your support means a lot.”
“I didn’t say I was totally on board! Just that he gets one more chance.”
“One more chance,” I repeat. “I basically told him the exact same thing.”
We chat for a few more minutes, and then I get off the phone so I can shower and get ready for bed. I can’t wait for tomorrow.
The second I slide into Hunter’s BMW, he passes me a paper bag.
“Cinnamon raisin bagel?” I ask. “Toasted with cream cheese?”
“You’re psychic.” He pulls me into a kiss, and then the car is rolling.
“I mean, the smell is obvious.” I rip open the bag and take a huge bite. It’s still warm and crunchy from being toasted, so he must have grabbed it right before picking me up. “Did you eat already?”
“Yup. That big ass coffee in the cupholder is for us to share. Careful, it’s hot.”
Grinning, I pick it up and take a few cautious sips. “Ahh. You are awesome. Do we have everything we need? I didn’t really bring supplies or anything.”
He gestures to the back seat, which is crammed with odd-shaped bags of I-don’t-know-what, a big cooler, an army surplus backpack, and other various unidentifiables. “We’re covered. I packed food, camping gear, sunscreen, bug spray, the works.”
“Well, aren’t you responsible?” I tease. “I pegged you for more of a glamping-in-a-yurt type. Not an I’ll-make-a-fire-and-grill-my-meat-on-a-stick-I-cut-and-sharpened kind of guy.”
“Like I told you, I’m full of surprises. You excited?”
“I really am. This is my first camping trip ever.”
I’m not lying. Never have I ever been camping…unless you call “sleeping in the back of your mom’s old car because we got evicted again” camping. Which, I don’t.
“Don’t you worry about a thing,” he says. “I’ll protect you from the bears. And the mountain lions.”
Between bites of bagel, I add, “And the sasquatches?”
“Them too. But seriously. I’ll keep you safe.”
He smiles and glances over at me. The warm, reassuring weight of his hand lands on my thigh, fingers digging in just enough so my entire body tenses with expectation.
“At least I can rest easy about your expertise in pitching tents,” I say.
Hunter laughs heartily at my dirty joke, which I appreciate. Then he tells me we’re driving to Portola State Park, and we’ll be camping deep in the redwoods. I love the idea of sleeping amongst the giant trees, breathing in the scent of pine needles and damp earth all around, looking up at night into a sky blanketed with stars. And hiking—which actually, now that I’m thinking about it, has me second-guessing my footwear.
“Um, question.”
Hunter turns the radio down. “What’s up?”
“I brought my sneakers, but I don’t know if they’re good for hiking. They’re just an old pair of Nikes I work out in. Do you think—”
“You’re an eight-and-a-half, right?” He glances over, brow up.
“Yes?”
“Good. ‘Cause I got you a pair of Arc’teryx boots at the sporting goods store. Figured you’d need something with a decent tread. They’re in the trunk.”
Something tells me they probably cost hundreds of dollars, but I’m grateful.
“Perfect. Thank you.” There was a time when I’d have fought him on every gift, every book, every flower he tried to give me—but I’m more comfortable accepting these things from him now. I don’t know when or how it all changed, but…it did.
“And they’re purple,” he adds. “That still your favorite color?”
“Ten thousand brownie points to you,” I say, and plug my phone into the USB.
We listen to music for the rest of the hour-long drive, mostly the indie rock we’ve always mutually agreed on, but with the occasional hip-hop or Beatles tune to switch things up. Hunter’s obviously in a good mood, singing along as we take the scenic route to the campground. The jealousy that had him so worked up yesterday is nowhere to be found. I can’t remember the last time I felt so happy. The mountains are hugging us on both sides of the road, the sky a calming blue.
I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to realize it, but the moodiness, the introspection, the intensity—it’s just how Hunter is. Quick to react to things that upset him, slow to actually admit what’s bothering him. Yet his feelings for me have never been in question. Even when we broke up, I knew deep down that he still loved me.
He’s mercurial, yes, but that’s part of why I love him. Everything he feels, good or bad, he feels deeply and passionately. Truly. Including the way he feels about me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Camilla
Five minutes into our hike, which starts with a steep upward slope, I have to admit, “You were right about my shoes. They never would have made it up this incline. Also, these boots are amazing. Comfier than a pair of bunny slippers.”
“Glad to know I won’t have to piggyback you back to the campsite,” Hunter jokes.
“Wait, I didn’t say that—there’s plenty of time left for a piggyback!”
“We’ll see.”
Both of us are panting by the time we reach the top of the hill, so we stop to sit on some big rocks in the shade and drink from our water bottles. I’m glad Hunt
er’s carrying the backpack with all our snacks and sweatshirts in it—I’m already sweating and my lungs are burning just from the climb alone. Not that I mind the workout. I feel energized being out in nature with Hunter at my side. I feel alive. Birds are singing everywhere, there’s a light breeze, and the sun is warm on my skin.
“Thought you’d be in better shape than this, Mr. Olympic-bound swimmer,” I tease, poking his bicep. “You’re huffing and puffing almost as bad as I am.”
“It’s the elevation!” he says, wrapping an arm around me. “The air’s thinner up here. But hey, look at the view.”
Past the trees, the mountain range rises up, and it’s incredible. I’m reminded of that tropical island from the Jurassic Park movies—nothing but fresh green everywhere you look, and that hit of pine and tree bark and minerals in the cool air.
“Are we hiking in a circle, or does this trail go somewhere specific?” I ask.
“You’ll have to wait and see,” Hunter says. “But don’t worry, it’s not one of those crazy, strenuous hikes. We’ll be back at camp before lunch. You ready?”
“Definitely.”
The trail zigs and zags lazily through the huge redwoods, over rocks, and through patches of light and shade. There are a few other hikers on the trail, but not many—I guess most people prefer to camp in the summer months. In fact, the air is so much cooler up here that I wonder if we’ll be freezing our asses off in the tent tonight. Not that Hunter won’t be able to keep me warm…
There’s a chittering sound, and I spot a couple of cute chipmunks scurrying around in the trees.
Pointing, I squeal, “Oh my God, look! They’re so cute!”
Hunter narrates an argument he insists they’re having about an acorn, which is hilarious. We walk deeper into the forest, until under our shoes the earth starts to soften. Soon I can hear the sound of running water nearby.
