Page 123 of Until Next Summer

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When we reach the camping spot—a clearing next to a slow-moving river—I spot a ring of rocks still filled with thecharred remains of last week’s campfire. The flat areas surrounding it seem to hold the ghosts of tents pitched there in years past.

The sun is dropping toward the western horizon, so we get to work: starting a fire, cooking dinner, setting up the tent. We eat as the sun sets, and after we finish and clean up, it’s fully dark outside.

“There’s only one thing left to do,” I tell him.

He grins. “Skinny-dipping?”

“You got it.”

When we came here with the campers, the girls would head upstream and the boys down, far enough apart (especially in the dark) for privacy. But tonight, we both know damn well we’re doing this together.

We undress on the riverbank, then head into the cool water. He’s staring at me with such intensity, it sucks the oxygen from my lungs.

“You’ve seen all this before,” I say, motioning to myself, laughing.

His voice is low and gravelly: “Not sure I’ll ever get used to a view like that.”

“Well, you don’t have to justlook.”

Luke lunges toward me, and I let out a scream of delight as he tackles me, plunging us into the cool water in a tangled heap of limbs. We resurface, sputtering and laughing as we float apart. I’m struck by how relaxed he looks—playful, almost boyish—so different from the gloomy, unapproachable man who arrived two months ago.

“What happened to you this summer?” I blurt out.

“What do you mean?”

I motion between us. “When you first showed up at camp, I never in a million years would’ve expected this.”

“Probably reasonable to not expect to end up naked in a river with someone.”

“Oh, I end up naked in rivers with lots of people,” I say. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Lots of people, eh?” He drifts closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “And do those other people do this?”

He grabs me by the hips, pulling me flush against him. I suck in a breath at the warmth of his skin against mine. We’re inches apart, eyes locked together. Droplets are caught on his lashes, his lips, pooling in the shallow dimple in his chin.

“Usually, yeah,” I say, holding his gaze.

He slides a hand up my neck, wraps my hair in his fist and tugs, tilting my chin up to expose my neck. “What about this?” he says, kissing my throat, teeth grazing my skin.

“Occasionally,” I say, breathless. Needing to be closer, I wrap my legs around his waist and pull us together. He kisses my jaw, then cups my breasts in both hands, his mouth following in a wordless prayer.

“This?” he whispers.

I’m losing the ability to speak, but I manage to say, “Sometimes.”

He sighs, like he’s disappointed in me, and puts his mouth next to my ear. “Liar.”

Laughing, I lean back into the water, letting my arms drift out to my sides as I gaze up at the night sky, the endless glittering stars. My legs are still around his waist, and he traces my skin with his fingers as we float. The moon slipsbehind a cloud, lining it with silver. I want to stay like this forever, weightless, breathless, pretending tomorrow will never come.

“You want to know what happened to me this summer?” he says, and I lift my head to look at him. “You did, Jess.”

He’s gazing at me with an expression I’ve never seen before—a fierce tenderness that makes my lungs constrict.

“Because I wouldn’t stop banging on your door when you wanted to be alone?” I ask, aware that I’m being cowardly, teasing him instead of leaning into the conversation.

His expression softens, like he understands exactly what I’m doing but doesn’t blame me. “That’s part of it.” He pauses, swallows. “I’ll never be the same after this summer. I want you to know that.”

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