Cindy smiled to herself, smoothing her hands down her stupidly pristine polo, adjusting it as she fixed her stupidly pristine curls.

You were in the Arts And Crafts cabin, sitting cross legged on a stool in front of your canvas, adding the final details to your painting- Icarus.

There was a hand-rolled cigarette smouldering between your lips. Your pockets were lighter for the pack of Tobacco and rolling papers you’d bought from Joan- you’d run out of your own very quickly.

Plastering that signature Sunnyvale valedictorian and Mayor’s daughter smile on her face, she pushed open the doors.

Your eyes flickered over to where the noise was coming from, but your head didn’t turn.

You knew who it was- the way she walked, the way she breathed. You even recognized her smell- vanilla, cinnamon, sunscreen. There was that underlying scent of Tommy’s aftershave that you were was there.

Not that you cared or anything.

You and Cindy had some… history.

You two had been friends since kindergarten. Then, you’d kissed her on your fourteenth birthday party, right over your cake.

She’d pulled back and pushed you off. You’d apologized, and then things had gone back to normal. And then, because of-fucking-course, things had dwindled between you two.

So, here you were. Your parents had insisted you go to Camp Nightwing, saying that it would help you grow and make friends and all that bullshit.

You had friends, they were just Shadysiders. You were more like them anyway, not like the other pristine Sunnyvale Councillors.

Sugary smile still plastered on her face, Cindy spoke. “So, you can’t have that in here. I’ll have to confiscate these.”

You laughed when you heard it.

She must’ve seen you smoking through the cabin’s windows and come in here to be the goody-two-shoes she always was.

So, of course, your reply was a swift and simple “No.”

What was Cindy going to do- take them from you? Nah.

Her model-body curves and 5’5” ass weren’t going to do jack shit.