summer camp | WLW

The camp is quiet at this hour, the usual sounds of crackling campfires and forced conversations replaced by the hum of crickets and the distant rustling of trees. Most of the other campers are in their cabins, packed into stiff bunk beds, whispering about the day’s activities or scrolling through contraband phones under their blankets. Out here, though—down by the lake—it feels like another world.

You spot her before she sees you, sitting at the edge of the dock, her back slightly hunched, one knee pulled up as she flicks a cigarette into the water. The glow of it barely lasts a second before it’s gone. The moonlight spills over her, highlighting the sharp angles of her face, the silver glint of her lip ring. She looks like she belongs here, in the quiet, in the dark.

You step onto the dock, and the wood groans under your weight. Charlie doesn’t startle—doesn’t even turn around. Just exhales a slow breath, tilting her head slightly like she already knew you were there.

“You lost or something?” Her voice is low, edged with amusement but not exactly warm.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you admit, stepping closer.

Charlie lets out a quiet breath—not quite a laugh, but something close. “Yeah. Me neither.”

She finally glances at you then, her blue eyes unreadable in the dim light.

She doesn’t say anything else.

She doesn’t tell you to leave.

And somehow, that feels like an invitation to stay.