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“Yours sucked!”

“Fuck you!”

“No cursing,” Darius said automatically. I looked at him. He looked at me, then slow as a turtle, added, “Please, Michael.”

I smiled sweetly. “Good correction, Mr. D’Angelo.”

“Hey, Alvin,” Dee called out.

“Mmm?”

“Fuck you.”

“With pleasure.”

Darius’s jaw clenched. I blew him a kiss.

One of the boys made an exaggerated gagging sound, so I turned towards him and made a more expressive make-out gesture. “Careful, sweetheart. Homophobia around a campfire is how you get chosen as the next victim.”

“I’m not homophobic,” he grumbled.

“Mmm. Affection doesn’t bother you then?”

“It’s gross.”

“Because we’re men?”

“Because you’re old.”

The entire circle erupted into laughter while my mouth fell open at the turn of events. Darius joined in. His head tipped back and his sparkling teeth showing. The bastard.

I pointed at him. “You’re supposed to defend my honor, douche canoe.”

“You don’t have any and we both know it.”

“That hurts!” I gasped.

“You threw my underwear into a fucking lake, Alvin.”

“You got them back… eventually.”

More laughter. Darius shook his head, but I caught the little pull at the corner of his mouth before he looked back towards the fire.

That smile. That fucking smile. There were moments when I could almost forget we weren’t fourteen anymore.

A log popped and little sparks climbed into the sky. Camp Dix looked different when it was dark out. Smaller somehow. The cabins disappeared behind the trees until all that remained were porch lights glowing through branches, the silver-black surface of the lake, and whatever nonsense was spewed between us over the campfire.

It had always been my favorite part of being here. Night made everybody equal. Nobody could see enough to judge you properly.

“Alvin.”

I looked up. Trevor was watching me. “What?” I asked him.

“You haven’t told one.”

“A scary story?”

He nodded. I grinned. Darius immediately said, “No.”