Page 115 of Until Next Summer

My eyes open as I realize what he’s asking. “I guess…four? Unless you want to stay another week while the staff and I—”

“I’ll stay,” he says quietly. “And until then, you’re mine, okay?”

Another surge of emotion threatens to overwhelm me, and I swallow it down.Everything ends, I remind myself.Nothing lasts forever.

“Okay,” I whisper, and he holds me as we drift back to sleep.

twenty-nine

Hillary

The day of the dance has arrived, and like every other year, I’m going stag. Solo. Without a date. Jessie apologized when she told me Luke asked her to go with him—but I would’ve been upset if shehadn’tsaid yes. It makes me happy to see her so happy.

Which I’m trying to remember as I put the finishing touches on my outfit. At least I’ll look good when I walk into the dining hall on my own.

We had surprisingly good luck on our shopping trip to Walmart. Jessie agreed to let me pick out her dress if I let her choose mine, and it made the whole excursion more fun. Like we were making up for all the years of best friend memories we missed out on.

For Jessie, I picked an emerald green asymmetrical dress that’s long and flowy in back, but short in the front to show off her killer legs. She’s going to wear her hair down in beach waves, and we found a floral headband to complete the look.

For me, Jessie picked out a maxi swing dress with a bold pattern of blue and bright pink flowers. It’s so low-cut I had to buy a set of stickers that supposedly act like a bra. But the dress looks good. I look good.

Eat your heart out, Benjamin Cooper.

One more application of lipstick, and I’m as ready as I’m going to get. I come into the hallway at the same time as Dot—who’s wearing a long black dress that looks like it may have walked out of theSound of Musicbox in the costume closet. She looks uncomfortable, but pretty.

“Dot!”

“Not a word, Goldberg,” she says, pulling at the high neck. “Yvonne wanted me to wear a dress.”

“The things we do for love.” My voice cracks on the word “love,” which is ridiculous. I don’tloveCooper. I mean, I loved spending time with him. I loved talking with him, and seeing how passionate he was about cooking, bringing flavors and textures together in creative ways. I loved falling asleep with my head on his chest and waking up in a tangle of sheets, his arm draped around me.

Most of all, I loved the version of myself I was around him.

“Shall we?” I ask Dot, grateful that I won’t have to walk into the dining hall alone after all.

“Wish I could,” Dot says, heading down the Lodge stairs. “Gotta pick up my date in Cabin Six. She wanted to get ready with her friends.”

I force a smile as Dot walks away, a skip in her step despite the dress.

—

A group of women from Cabin Eight arrive at the dining hall at the same time I do, and I’m able to walk in behind them. So close you might even think we all belong together.

Inside, the room looks incredible. Twinkly lights havebeen strung from the ceiling. Couples and groups of friends pose for pictures under a balloon arch; there’s a fully stocked bar and, just beyond, a long table with an impressive buffet. I spot Jack Valentine loading his plate while Mary follows behind, looking but not taking anything. I hate them for being here, for not being their parents, for starting this whole chain of events.

Although, if they hadn’t put the camp up for sale,Iwouldn’t be here, either.

Brushing that thought out of my mind, I scan the room and find Jessie, looking gorgeous in green. She’s talking to the DJ, a former camper from St. Paul who owns an entertainment company. Jessie requested a playlist that spans every decade of camper we have in attendance—an impressive range from the 1960s to today. We invited any camper who’d attended a previous session and anyone who made a pledge to the co-op to come back for the dance.

Jessie was shocked by how many people bought tickets—but if I’ve learned one thing this summer, it’sDon’t underestimate camp people.

I’m about to approach Jessie when Luke saunters up beside her, a glass of spiked bug juice in each hand. He leans close and whispers something that makes her laugh. She’s beaming. I don’t want to interrupt their moment, so I check out the buffet instead, grateful Jack and Mary have already moved through the line.

Cooper really outdid himself. I fill my plate: baked ziti, salad, chicken Française, shrimp scampi, roasted vegetables, and a tofu dish. I spot an empty high-top table in the back where I can eat quickly, just like I did in the early days of camp.

Every bite is more delicious than the one before it, and I hope Cooper made enough that there’ll be leftovers tomorrow.

Not that I’ll be invited to partake in them.

---