“Enough, you two,” one of the counselors calls out.
Not that they actually care if we show PDA. Half of them are barely older than Mase and Nate, but camp rules mean they have to at leastpretendto enforce boundaries.
Nate doesn’t even acknowledge them. He kisses me hello instead.
His skilled lips take mine. It’s slow, deep, and full of suction, while his grip is possessive, palming my butt.
It took just over two weeks for me to stop caring who saw us.
Now? I can’t get enough of his kisses or touches.
“Yeah. Quit it, you two.” Mase knocks Nate on his back as he passes us to grab me a blanket. Even though it’s summer and there’s a bonfire, my Georgia bones can’t take the chilly summer nights here in the woods. “And hands off her ass.”
I pull back and stick out my tongue as he passes, tightening my grip around Nate like a human koala.
I may have loosened up around the other campers after week two, but it took me until recently to stop caring about Mase.
It was the day I walked into Mase and Leo’s cabin unannounced like an idiot.
Leo mentioned Mase was alone. Spoiler alert…he wasn’t.
I caught Ashley, my roommate—if you can even call her that, since she’s slept in our cabin once since camp started—on her knees for my brother.
Luckily, I didn’t see much, but the groan Mason let out is now permanently seared into my brain.
Hypnotherapy is starting to sound like a solid investment because it makes me gag every time I think of it.
Four weeks in New York, and my poor little innocent brain has been totally rewired.
Since then, I decided I wasn’t holding back in front of Mase anymore.
“Come on, I saved you a seat.” Nate reluctantly lets me go.
“Is there room for Ads?” I reach back for Addie’s hand, giving it a squeeze.
Nate leads us closer to the water, where multiple bonfires and tiki torches are scattered along the shore. Counselors huddle near each one, pretending to keep a watchful eye on the campers.
The sun hasn’t fully set. I was nervous I’d miss it. But today’s my lucky day. I get to see the beautiful pink and orange streaks before they disappear behind the horizon.
“We’ll make room if not,” Nate promises.
“Thanks.”Even if Addie’s reluctant.
Apparently, I’m not well-versed in the who’s who of the New YorkITclub because when she heard my boyfriend was Nate Davenport, she almost fell off my top bunk.
Among the elite, I’ve learned that Nate is one of New York’s most eligible bachelors. Even at seventeen, the families of other wealthy socialites will soon be clawing their way to an introduction from his family.
This is one thing the South has in common with the North—wealthy families making business deals and securing status through their children’s marriages.
Only Nate will never let this happen to himself.
To the outside, he’s still a Davenport, but to those who matter, he’s a Morales, and they don’t put money before anything.
His words.
Nate has also told me many times that he will never step foot in his parents’ house again after he turns eighteen and heads off to college.
It was a one-off comment, and since I don’t want to push him to discuss them until he’s ready, I don’t know much more about the situation.
