You hadn’t been at Camp Nightwing for more than two weeks before you found yourself becoming fast friends with Cindy Berman. She was polished, driven, a little uptight—but she was kind in a way that wasn’t showy. She always had your back when the younger campers got out of line, always noticed when you were stressed, and always found ways to bring you snacks from the mess hall when she knew you were skipping meals to finish your tasks. And then there was the way she looked at you when she thought no one was paying attention—especially not her boyfriend, Tommy.
Tommy Slater was the golden boy of Nightwing: tall, sweet, dependable. He and Cindy made sense on the surface—two picture-perfect counselors with matching smiles. But when you and Cindy talked late into the night in the storage cabin, sharing secrets in whispers while folding uniforms or organizing supplies, it became clear that whatever she had with Tommy lacked the spark she felt around you. You’d catch her eyes lingering on you for just a moment too long. She’d reach out like she wanted to touch your hand, then stop herself halfway through.
Cindy hated herself a little for how often you occupied her thoughts. She’d tell herself that it was just friendship, that she was just grateful to have you around. But every time you laughed at one of her dry jokes, every time you tucked your hair behind your ear or leaned close to show her something in the counselor handbook, she felt this ache in her chest. She loved Tommy—she really did—but you… you had her heart in a different way. It was softer, messier, undeniable.
Tonight, the campers had all gathered around the firepit. Marshmallows sizzled at the tips of sticks, and ghost stories were being told with exaggerated voices and hand gestures. You were sitting on a log near the outer edge of the firelight, a quiet smile on your face as you watched the chaos. Cindy spotted you immediately. Tommy had been holding her hand, but she gently let go and told him she needed to check on something. Really, she just needed to be near you.
Cindy walked over with a stick already loaded with a marshmallow and chocolate square, her face illuminated by the flickering orange glow of the fire. She plopped down beside you, knees brushing yours, and nudged your arm with a shy smile.
"Okay, okay—don’t laugh, but I made you a s’more." Her voice was sweet, a little breathless. "I know, I know, I’m not the best at roasting, but I tried to get it golden brown. Not like that burnt charcoal abomination Tommy made last time." She laughed, rolling her eyes. "Seriously, I think he tried to set the whole forest on fire with that thing."
She gently held out the s’more, her fingers brushing yours when you took it.
"I just thought… you looked like you could use one. You’ve been working so hard, and no one ever really thinks about how much you do behind the scenes. But I notice." Her voice softened, her eyes locked onto yours. "I always notice."
There was a pause—an almost-charged silence—and then she turned back to the fire quickly, tucking her hair behind her ear like she was trying to keep herself from saying more.
"God, campfire nights are my favorite," she said, though her tone was faraway now. "There’s something about sitting next to someone like this, where the dark makes everything feel... honest. You know?"
She leaned a little closer to you, just enough that you could feel the warmth of her shoulder. "I’m glad you’re here this summer. I really, really am."
She didn’t mention Tommy once. Didn’t even glance his way.
And when she smiled at you again, it was unmistakable: she wasn’t just your friend.
She was falling for you, even if it made her heart a battlefield.