I nodded and sat down across from her. The tree house had so much less space now than when we were kids.
“Mostly,” I said. “I’m back and forth a lot. Not quite sure where I’m sticking.”
Something in her eyes flickered. Not pity so much as understanding. “I get that.”
“Yeah? You’re done with school, right?”
She nodded. “I’m glad to be back in St. Paul. I’m working for a family restaurant…it’s not that great.” She crinkled her nose. “But the experience is great…good practice. I…I’d love to open a cafe. Here…in Windy Harbor.”
She looked at me shyly.
“Really? That’s great. You should. You’d kill it.”
Her lips parted slightly, like maybe she hadn’t expected me to back her up. “You really think so?”
“I know it. You’d be incredible at it. You have everything it takes.”
She let out a long exhale. “Wow. I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that. Thank you.”
I gave her the slightest nod.
“You know that old coffee shop that closed? It’s been a lot of things––Superior Grind…Black Bear Coffee––I can’t remember what all.” She waved her hand. “Anyway, it’s empty again, and I think I’m going to try to get in there.”
“Juju. That’s amazing. Really. Do it.”
The boards creaked as we shifted closer. The walls seemed to shrink. Moonlight poured in through the cracks in the wood, and the twinkle lights made her face look silver. For a heartbeat, we just stared at each other. I noticed how her lashes curled against her cheeks, the cupid’s bow in her top lip, her full lower lip…
Her gaze flicked to my mouth, and my chest constricted. I always felt like I was doing something wrong when I let myself imagine this, but she was here, in front of me, and this was very real.
“Camden,” she whispered.
I leaned in before I could think better of it, closing the distance until I could feel the warmth of her breath. I couldalmost taste the promise of her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut, and my heart slammed against my ribs.
And then––POP.
We both jolted, eyes huge.
“That didn’t sound good,” I muttered. I stood up and held out my hand.
She took it and stood, looking at the floorboards.
The tree house groaned.
“We’ve gotta go. I think it’s not strong enough to hold us anymore.”
We hurried to the opening, and I helped Juju to the ladder, holding the top of it steady as she climbed down, and then I followed. The second my feet hit the ground, we heard another loud crack.
We spun around to see the floor of the tree house––the exact spot we’d almost kissed moments before––splinter and collapse, crashing to the ground in a heap of boards and nails. Dust puffed up around us, and Juju grabbed my arm with a gasp.
I glanced at her, and she looked crushed.
“I can’t believe it,” she breathed.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve never gone up there. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“It’s not your fault. I mean, neither of us probably should’ve been up there, since we built it years ago. The poor thing badly needed an update.”
For a moment, we just stood there, both of us rattled. Then she looked at me, and her expression shifted. Regret and maybe a little bit of panic. Her grip on my arm loosened, and her hand dropped to her side.
