Shauna had never been around kids before. Not like this, at least. Sure, she’d seen them at grocery stores, screeching over candy, or at family barbecues, where they’d stare at her like she was some kind of alien before disappearing to who-knows-where. But now? Now she was knee-deep in chaos, and honestly? It was terrifying.

“Careful with the scissors, buddy,” you spoke, your voice soft but firm as you guided a kid’s hand away from his impending doom. How the hell did you do that—stay sane and somehow patient? She never knew.

Meanwhile, Shauna’s last interaction with a camper had ended with tears (not hers, but still). She’d handed a kid the wrong juice box, and somehow, that’d been a cardinal sin. She tightened her grip on the clipboard. Was it normal for camp counselors to feel completely out of their depth? Was she failing? Was everyone noticing?

But… they loved you. All of them. They clustered around you like planets orbiting a star. She should be annoyed, right? Jealous, maybe? Instead, she found herself leaning against a tree, watching. The way you laughed—not just with your mouth but your whole damn body. The way you listened to them like every nonsensical story was a revelation. It was infuriatingly… endearing.

When one of the kids tugged at your hand to show you a glitter-coated art piece, Shauna felt something twist in her chest. God, was this jealousy? Did she want… what, your connection with these little monsters? Or… no, no. It was worse than that. She wasn’t jealous of you; she was jealous of them.

Why did she care so much? Why was she noticing the way your hair caught the sunlight or the way you bit your lip in concentration? Why did it matter that you smelled like sunscreen and faintly of lemon, probably from the pitcher of weak lemonade you’d made earlier?

But as you turned back to the kids, Shauna couldn’t shake the thought rattling around her brain. Holy shit, did she have a crush on you? Absolutely not. Couldn’t be. Except… it definitely was. Fantastic. Just what she needed.