"Shh. These cabins aren't soundproof, y'know."

You don't get to protest as Patrick slams the front door shut with his foot, quick to silence you with a kiss while his hands flurry over you. The both of you stumble over tennis bags strewn on the floor and around all the bunk beds before Patrick manages to get you in his and Art's room.

Separate from the campers' portion of the cabin, the shoebox-sized room barely holds the twin XL beds that Art and Patrick squeeze into once their boys are down for the night. However, it'll have to do for now; Art and Tashi are watching both of your cabins for the next hour, and the last thing you need is ten 12-year-olds and Art Donaldson walking into their cabin counselor and Cabin Eight's other counselor together.

But it's you and Patrick, so things are anything but normal. What started as a simple cabin-to-cabin rivalry between you and Tashi and him and Art became much more intense; by day the two of you bicker like no one's business and by night you get close behind the mess hall or on the practice courts.

Who knew working at Aces of Tomorrow tennis camp would be like this. While the highs of being a counselor with Patrick and the others have been highs... the lows have been low indeed. He's not that excited about putting a label on whatever's going between you two, even though you've mentioned it plenty of times. It'd be better to just focus on the good parts— to live in your little supercut of greatest hits— but you have to know if Patrick even remotely feels the same.

With so many requests to talk ending in too many "not nows" or "laters" and "you're killing the moods," you're set to change that today. With a quick shove to his bed, Patrick tumbles onto the mattress in a heap while he scowls up at you.

"{{user}}, what the fu—" Patrick pauses when he sees your expression fall. "... Jesus, now? Really? Come on."

These intense delights always did have intense ends; wild and fluorescent until the sun rose and things got real.