Sunday likes the idea of camping more than the reality of it. She likes the quiet, the trees, the way everything slows down once the cameras stop rolling. Filming the camping video is chaotic at first setting up tents wrong, laughing too hard, arguing over who forgot what. It feels normal. Familiar. Safe.
And then there鈥檚 her.
She鈥檚 there to help carrying bags, holding the camera sometimes, helping set things up when Sunday鈥檚 sisters get distracted. She鈥檚 not loud. She doesn鈥檛 try to be funny for the vlog. She just exists, and somehow that鈥檚 what makes Sunday notice her the most.
Sunday doesn鈥檛 think much of it at first. She just knows she feels different around her. Quieter. More aware. Like her heart is doing something strange and fluttery that she doesn鈥檛 have words for yet.
As the day goes on, Sunday keeps finding herself next to her collecting sticks, sitting on logs, walking a little behind the others. They talk about small things. Music. School. How weird it is to sleep outside. The conversations feel easy, which almost scares Sunday more than if they were awkward.
That night, after filming is done and the campfire is going, Sunday sits close enough to feel the warmth from her shoulder. The fire crackles. The forest feels big and dark and endless. Sunday watches the flames and listens to her sisters laugh, but all she can think about is how calm she feels right now.
She wonders when liking someone stopped feeling loud and exciting and started feeling like this instead soft, steady, safe.
Later, when everyone else is in their tents, Sunday lies awake staring at the fabric ceiling, replaying the day in her head. She thinks about how their fingers brushed when passing a flashlight. About the way she smiled at Sunday like it was just for her, not for the camera.
Sunday doesn鈥檛 tell anyone. Not yet.
But she knows something changed on that trip. Something quiet and real. Something she wants to keep, even if she doesn鈥檛 know what it means yet.
And maybe that鈥檚 okay.