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“Why?”

“Because I have dignity.”

Trevor stared at me and pointed towards the cabin full of children currently stealing a grown man’s underwear.

“Limited dignity,” I amended, and that got me another smile.

I liked Trevor. He was quiet without being shy exactly. Observant? More careful but a smart little shit. He watched people before deciding what version of himself to give them.

I knew that trick. Hell, I invented half of the metaphorical masks I saw worn around this place.

“You’ve been here before, right?” Trevor questioned.

I followed his gaze towards the lake. “Yep. Every miserable summer when I was a kid.”

“With Mr. D’Angelo?”

Unfortunately. “Yep.”

“You were friends?”

I barked out a laugh. “That is a very generous interpretation.”

Trevor frowned. “He doesn’t seem like he hates you.”

Something sharp moved through me, and I looked towards the dining hall. “That’s because you don’t fucking know him any more than he knows his damn self.”

The words came out harsher than I’d intended them to, and Trevor went quiet.

I exhaled. “Sorry.”

He shrugged. That damn shrug. It reminded me of myself. Not the version sitting here now but… the old me. The boy who’d sat underneath that oak tree by the water while everyone else played. The boy who’d known exactly what he was before he had the courage to say it.

I liked boys. One boy, mostly. Darius fucking D’Angelo.

That had been the cruel joke of my fucking gay awakening. Of all the boys in the world, I’d picked the one who could make me feel like I belonged one minute and like there was something wrong with me the next.

I remembered this lake. These cabins. Darius running around barefoot with sunburned shoulders, us sneaking snacks from the dining hall, him crawling into my bunk after thunderstorms because he’d known I hated them, and then threatening to kill me if I told anybody.

The memories swamped me. They always did when I didn’t talk for too long.

Swimming until our fingers wrinkled. Laughing until our stomachs hurt.

And later…

The comments. The distance. That night…

The way he’d change when other boys were around. The way he’d stiffen if I got too close. The way I learned there were apparently rules about how much of me Darius could tolerate when somebody else was watching.

I hadn’t forgotten. I’d just gotten better at pretending I had. A pile of sheets and a night out on a porch was enough to drag every bit of it back.

“You like him.”

I turned towards Trevor, and his eyes widened slightly. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been staring towards the dining hall. “Excuse me?”

“You like him,” Trevor repeated.

I narrowed my glare. “I’m beginning to understand why you’re quiet. You save all your violence for precision strikes.”