“I saw three of the counselors smoking weed when they were on night watch, so I may have blackmailed them.”
“No way.” I laugh. “So they won’t tattle?”
“Nope. We’re good for one hour until dinner.” He holds out his hand. “So? Are you gonna join me or stand there looking beautiful?”
I hesitate, biting my lip. Then, with a sigh, I drop beside him.
I glance at my bikini and Nate’s swim trunks. “We’ll need to leave enough time for us to go back to our cabins and change.”
“I got you, babe.”
He opens his backpack to show me it’s filled with all my things. Jean shorts, a camp tee, a brush, even the lotion I like to use after a day in the sun.
“How…Addie?”
He smiles and nods, slipping his arm around me.
“Mads.”
“Yeah?” I lean my head on his shoulder.
His voice softens. “I don’t want you to worry about USC, okay? Your portfolio is shaping up to be better than mine ever was. Even Leo’s, and he’s a perfectionist.”
I sigh, not wanting to talk about this right now.
“But there are only so many scholarships, Nate, and what if I don’t get the loans I need?”
He turns us so we are facing one another, and I’m hit with déjà vu from the first day we sat by the lake.
How in the world has it already been a month?
But also…how has itonlybeen one month?
“You need to trust me, Maddie,” he says, his voice firm. “I’ll have letters of recommendation lined up for you. You’ve got a perfect transcript and plenty of extracurricular activities. You’re the ideal candidate for any scholarship you apply for, and I’ll help you as much as possible.”
I swallow, nodding once. “’Kay.”
I don’t want to discuss this anymore. Not here, with the sun warm on our faces, wrapped in this perfect, fleeting moment.
Instead, I reach over, pluck what I think is a pink coneflower from the ground, and tuck it behind Nate’s ear.
“Pretty boy,” I tease.
He scoffs. “Please. That’s my brother, not me.”
To prove his point, he flexes, and his bicep tightens under my touch, practically begging me to run my hand over his arm, giving it a quick squeeze.
His arms rival Mason’s. But Nate’s strength is different, built for endurance, from the endless push and pull of competitive sailing.
Nate’s a grinder, which I learned is the powerhouse of the team. While other sailors pull ropes, Nate cranks handles, feeding every ounce of his strength into the boat’s movement.
When he first told me he sailed, I pictured preppy boys in polos, casually adjusting sails, leisurely enjoying life.
But I was so, so wrong.
At camp, Natedoesdo more leisurely sailing. But at home, Nate races competitively, and it’s intense.
In a video he showed me from a race in Bermuda’s Great Sound, he was practically hanging off the boat, stretched back over open water, slicing through waves at nearly forty miles per hour.
