Page 118 of Until Next Summer

“But why did you doubt me? You knew I broke up with Aaron,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “I mean, I understand why seeing that would remind you of how much you lost with Julia—”

“No,” Cooper says, turning toward me. There’s an urgency in his gray eyes I’ve never seen before. “It made me think that for the second time in my life, I was about to lose a woman I care about. A woman I could see a future with.”

I stare at him, digesting his words. “Cooper, I…I don’t know what to say—”

“You don’t have to say anything.” He breaks eye contact, looking down at his hands. “You’ve been honest with me from the beginning about what you wanted this summer. I’m the one who got confused. And I don’t want to keep being the same guy who confuses good sex with love.”

Again, I’m speechless. I had no idea he felt this way, and I want to be brave enough to tell him I’m on the way to loving him, too. That I could also see a future with him—except I can’t. I can’t see myownfuture, let alone one with someone else. Everything feels too unsteady and unknown.For the first time in my life, I don’t have a plan, and it terrifies me.

Silence settles between us. I want to say something that will make him feel better, but I can’t tell him what I want until I know myself.

“Thank you for telling me,” I say, then nudge him with my shoulder. “Finally.You were the one who added the honesty rule, remember?”

His face softens, like he’s relieved at my reaction, relieved to change the subject. “Yeah. Sorry.”

I turn to face him, still holding his hand. “So, honestly, what do you want to do right now?”

I’m not sure what I’m hoping for—part of me wouldn’t mind if he hauled me back to the Lodge and had his way with me. But even though I’ve missed that, what I’ve missed most is just being with him. Talking, laughing, connecting. I want to soak that up as much as possible before it has to end.

“Honestly?” He meets my eyes. “I’d really like to dance with you.”

A smile blossoms on my face, and I stand. “You’re in luck. There are only two people in the world who can get me onto a dance floor, and you happen to be one of them. Unless they’re playing Chumbawamba. Then I’m out.”

“Deal.”

Cooper slips his arm around my waist as we walk into the dining hall. The song fromDirty Dancing, “(I’ve Had) the Time of My Life,” starts to play, and he takes me in his arms. As we sway to the beat, he sings along, so softly that only I can hear. The lyrics reflect our story. Ihavehad the time of my life, and I owe it all to him.

And to Jessie, who looks deliriously happy dancing with Luke.

“Come on, babe!”

I turn to see Zoey running toward Zac, attempting the big lift from the end of the movie. They pull it off: Zac catches Zoey in his arms and she slides down his body, planting a kiss on his lips as her feet hit the floor.

When I look back to make sure Jessie is seeing this, I notice her and Luke walking hand in hand toward the DJ booth. It must be time for her speech—she’s been working on what to say all week. Luke gives her hand a squeeze and steps to the side while she takes the microphone.

The final notes of the song fade, which Jessie takes as her cue.

“Good evening, Camp Chickawah!” she says into the mic. “As your camp director, it is my honor and privilege to say a few words tonight, at this, the final dance of our final summer.” She pauses, clearing the emotion from her throat. “I’m so glad our special guests, Jack and Mary Valentine, could be here with us.”

There’s a smattering of unenthusiastic applause—everyone knows they’re the reason this summer is the last. Still, the little twerp stands taller, raising his hand in a wave. At least his sister has the decency not to call any more attention to herself.

“But I’d also like to thank each and every one of you.” Jessie pauses to scan the room. Her sad smile gets brighter when she sees me leaning against Cooper, his arms wrapped around my shoulders. “Camp Chickawah has been in the Valentine family for over a hundred years—but it’s also been a part of my family, and a part of yours.”

The crowd applauds, and Jessie smiles as she waits for the noise to die down. “Lola used to say that moments end, but memories last a lifetime, and I know that none of us will ever forget this place.”

The room is silent now, everyone watching her.

“But Camp Chickawah is more than this property,” she continues. “It isn’t the lake or the cabins or the campfire. It isn’t the activities, the Color Wars and canoe races and hikes. It isn’t the food or the pranks or the songs we love to sing.”

Her voice catches, and she pauses, looking down, composing herself. I can hear sniffles from people in the audience, and I see two former campers near me wiping their eyes.

Jessie looks back up, and her voice rings out, clear and strong.

“Camp is the children who came here to grow and develop, the counselors and staff who worked here over the years. It’s the friendships we’ve built and the memories we’ve made.” She smiles warily and says, “Camp isn’t just a place. It’s us.”

The words envelop me like a hug. I’ve been so focused on saving the actual land that I haven’t thought about the intangible aspects. So much of who I am is because of my experiences here as a child, and even though I buried those parts of myself for years, I never lost them.

Now I make a promise to myself that I won’t lose them again. I’m trembling a little; Cooper tightens his grip on my shoulder and I lean back into him, appreciating his sturdiness.

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