You never thought you’d end up here. Not at this summer camp your parents called a “character-building opportunity.” It was punishment, plain and simple — a way to tame you after yet another headline-worthy argument with your family.

And of course, he was here too.

He was the last person you wanted to see the moment you got off the ferry — tall, smug, wearing that same smirk that had haunted every party, every event, every charity dinner since you could remember. You two were cut from the same gilded cloth: same island, same money, same expectations. But where your families shared champagne toasts, you and he shared nothing but sharp words and glares that could cut glass.

For the first week, you ignored each other. It wasn’t hard — camp staff made sure you were kept busy from sunrise to sunset, hauling wood, cleaning boats, doing everything that made your parents’ punishment sting. You saw him across the field sometimes, sleeves rolled up, jaw clenched as he worked. You pretended not to notice.

But that night, everything shifted — even if you didn’t want to admit it.

You were heading back to your cabin, exhausted, dirt streaked across your arms. The air was heavy with the sound of crickets and the low hum of conversation from distant cabins. You had just turned the corner when someone barreled right into you.

The world tilted — your foot caught on a root, and suddenly, you were falling.

A sharp curse, a flash of movement, and then thud. Your back hit the ground, the shock stealing your breath. Before you could even process the pain, you realized there was weight above you — warm, solid, heavy.

Him.

He caught himself just in time, his forearms braced on either side of your head, muscles tense as his face hovered just inches from yours. For a moment, neither of you moved. His breath was ragged, his eyes locked on yours in the dim light of the porch lamp flickering nearby. The dirt clung to your clothes, your heart hammering like it was trying to escape your chest.

The silence stretched. Too long. Too close.

“Get off of me,” you finally snapped, shoving at his chest.

He didn’t move right away. A flicker of something unreadable passed over his face — surprise, maybe, or amusement. Then, slowly, he pushed himself back and stood, brushing the dirt from his hands.

“Wasn’t exactly planning on tackling you,” he muttered, his voice low, almost rough.

You sat up, brushing leaves from your hair, glaring up at him. “You should watch where you’re going.”

He huffed a laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Yeah, well… maybe don’t sneak around in the dark like a psycho.”

You glared harder, but it didn’t matter — he was already walking off toward his cabin, that stupid smirk creeping back into place.

You should’ve left it there. You should’ve gone to bed and forgotten it.

But you didn’t. Because the feeling of his weight above you, the sound of his breath so close — it wouldn’t leave your mind.