Page 71 of The Summer Intern

As the last note faded into the twilight, leaving nothing but the soft crackle of the bonfire and the distant call of a loon on the lake, I felt something shift inside me.The hesitation that had held me back dissolved, replaced by a surge of emotion so powerful it demanded action.

I'd spent the whole summer responding to Casey's challenges, letting him push the boundaries of what Camp Eagle Ridge could be.Now it was my turn to push—not against him, but toward him.To show him that some risks were worth taking, that some bonds couldn't be broken by mere distance or difference.

The crowd erupted into applause, startling me from my revelation.Casey ducked his head again in that endearing way, his smile tentative as he acknowledged their appreciation.But I saw the way his eyes scanned the audience, searching, until they found mine in the shadows at the back.

I moved before my brain caught up with my body, propelled by the certainty coursing through my veins.The crowd between me and the stage seemed to part like magic—or maybe I just pushed through them, I couldn't tell.My focus had narrowed to a single point: Casey, still perched on that stool, cradling his guitar as the applause washed over him.His eyes found mine again as I approached, widening slightly with a question I intended to answer in the most unmistakable way possible.

The fifty feet between us collapsed in heartbeats.As I crossed the clearing, I registered fragments of the scene around me—Sutton's knowing smile, a younger camper tugging at her friend's sleeve and pointing, the warm glow of the firelight painting everything in amber and gold.These details registered like snapshots, filed away automatically while my mind raced ahead to what I was about to do.

I felt exposed, visible in a way I rarely allowed myself to be.As camp director, I'd always maintained a certain professional distance—friendly but removed, the steady hand guiding rather than participating.Now, with every step toward Casey, I was shedding that protective layer, letting everyone see the man beneath the title.

Someone whispered as I passed.Someone else whistled low.I didn't care.The hesitation that had plagued me all summer—born from my own fears about long-distance relationships, about disrupting the delicate balance we'd established—evaporated like morning mist off the lake.

I reached the edge of our makeshift stage—just a raised platform of old deck boards we'd salvaged from last year's renovation.Casey watched me approach, his brow furrowing in confusion as I stepped up, my boots landing with a solid thunk against the wood.

"Matt?"he asked, just loud enough for me to hear over the diminishing applause.The golden spotlight caught the uncertainty in his expression, the flicker of hope he was trying to suppress.

I didn't answer with words.For once in my life, I didn't overthink, didn't plan, didn't consider all possible outcomes before acting.Instead, I moved directly to him, my hands reaching to frame his face.His skin felt warm against my palms, flushed from the heat of performance and the intensity of the moment.

Our eyes locked for one suspended second.His dark brown gaze, normally so quick and sharp, now wide with surprise.I saw everything in that gaze—his questions, his fears, his desire.Then I closed the final distance between us and pressed my lips to his.

The kiss wasn't gentle or hesitant.It carried all the certainty I'd discovered listening to his song, all the love I'd been holding back.His lips were soft against mine, slightly parted in surprise.For a heartbeat, he remained frozen, and my stomach tightened with sudden doubt.

Then his guitar shifted between us as his hand rose to my arm, fingers curling lightly around my bicep.Not pushing away—holding on.He kissed me back with a soft exhale that felt like surrender, like relief, like coming home.

The crowd's reaction registered peripherally—a collective gasp followed by scattered cheers and applause.Someone wolf-whistled.Someone else shouted something encouraging that was quickly lost in the growing chorus of approval.It all faded to background noise as I pulled back just enough to rest my forehead against Casey's.

"I love you," I whispered, my voice rough with emotion."Not just for the summer.Not with conditions or uncertainties.I love who you are, how you challenge me, how you see the world."My thumbs traced small circles against his cheekbones."I don't have all the answers about how we make this work with you in Oregon and me here, but I know we can figure it out together."

Casey's fingers tightened on my arm, and I felt a slight tremor run through him."Are you sure?"he asked, voice so quiet it was almost lost beneath the noise of the crowd."I'm not easy.I push too hard, I get caught up in my causes, I— I don't want to be a burden–"

"You make this place better," I interrupted."You make me better.Maybe it won't be easy, but nothing worth having ever is."I smiled, letting all my feelings show plainly on my face."And you, Casey Kim, are worth having."

A smile broke across his face—not the careful, measured one he often showed the world, but something raw and real that reached his eyes and crinkled the corners.His free hand came up to touch my jaw, fingers cool from the metal guitar strings.

"But the distance—"

"We'll figure it out.Weekend visits.Holiday breaks.Summer will come again."I pressed another quick kiss to his lips."And in the meantime, we have phones and computers and all that modern technology you're always telling me to embrace."

He laughed then, a bright sound that seemed to rise above the continued noise of the crowd."Using my own words against me, Blackstone?That's fighting dirty."

"I learned from the best."I grinned, feeling lighter than I had in weeks.

Around us, the camp had erupted into celebration.Campers were standing on benches, counselors were exchanging knowing looks, and I was pretty sure I saw money changing hands—apparently, our relationship had been the subject of camp-wide speculation.Ben caught my eye from the front row and gave me a thumbs up, while Sutton beside him was wiping suspiciously at her eyes.

Someone shouted something about a wedding.

Casey closed the distance between us again, kissing me with a deliberateness that left no room for doubt.When we separated, his eyes were bright with emotion and promise, and the crowd hooted, making his cheeks pink.He laughed.

"Me too," he whispered."I love you, too.And it's so fucking scary."

As the cheers around us swelled into whistles and applause, I wrapped an arm around Casey's waist and turned to face our audience—our community.The uncertain future still waited beyond summer's end, with all its complications and logistics to navigate.There would be hard conversations and compromises ahead.But in that moment, with Casey solid and real against my side, I felt nothing but certainty.

We would make it work.Not because love conquers all—I was too pragmatic to believe in fairy tales—but because what we'd built was worth fighting for.Worth adapting for.Worth driving four hours each way on weekends for.

I frowned.Right, step one in this might be to teach Casey to drive.

twenty-eight

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