Rae wasn't herself the day after. Or maybe, she was starting to become someone new, and it just felt unfamiliar.
It wasn't like anything big had happened the night before. They didn't hold hands. They didn't say anything dramatic. There was no movie-scene moment where one leaned in and the other leaned back. No.
They had just laughed. Listened to music. Shared secrets. Stayed in a quiet room long after the rest of the world had gone home. And now Rae couldn't stop thinking about it.
She walked through the school halls scanning for a glimpse of Silas, not in a dramatic, desperate way, but in that low, internal tug: is she here? is she around the corner? should I just... wait a second longer at this door?
The worst part? There wasn't an excuse anymore. The project was done. The exhibition had passed. There was nothing left to work on together, no reason to text her, no reason to sit beside her at lunch or hang around after class.
God, she thought, when did this happen?
When did the girl who drove her up the wall become the one she now wished would send a single hey? When did the person she argued with about paint colors become the person she couldn't stop replaying in her head?She used to say she hated Silas.
But hate doesn't make you feel like this.
She sat in the back of class, staring blankly out the window, the corners of her notebook filled with half-sketched shapes and initials she didn't want to name.
Something had shifted.
And Rae wasn't sure how to shift with it.
_
The night before summer camp felt quieter than it should've.
Rae sat on the floor of her bedroom, a half-zipped duffel bag in front of her, clothes scattered around like she had started packing and then forgotten how. The fan buzzed lazily overhead. The house, usually filled with the soft background noise of her parents moving from room to room, was still.
They were away this time, some sudden trip that couldn't be rescheduled. Rae said it was fine. And it was. But still. She missed the usual rhythm of it. Her mom folding shirts beside her, checking the weather forecast obsessively. Her dad slipping snacks into the bag when no one was looking. Their voices bouncing between rooms, their presence filling in the spaces Rae didn't even realize were hollow.
Now it was just her.
She tried to keep busy. Ironed her shirts slowly, even the ones that didn't need it. Lined up her socks in neat pairs. Poured trail mix into small ziplock bags like it was an important mission. She packed the charger, then double-checked it, then checked again.
The silence crept in anyway.
There was no one to say, "Did you remember your toothbrush?" or "Don't forget your sketchbook." No one to say, "You'll have fun," in that soft, certain way only parents can.
The bus to the summer camp smelled like cheap leather seats and the sugary echo of someone's candy. Rae sat by the window, head against the glass, watching the highway slip by like film scenes she wasn't really in. Her bag was stuffed beneath the seat, her sketchbook wedged between her knees, and in her chest was that quiet flutter she kept trying to ignore.
She told herself not to overthink.That night with Silas? It was just a night. Just a moment.Things like that didn't mean anything if you didn't let them.
When they arrived at the campsite—crickets chirping, grass still wet from dawn—names were read out, groupings decided. Rae barely listened until hers was called… and right after it, Silas's.
Same group. Of course.
She looked up just in time to catch Silas already looking at her. Their eyes met. A brief flicker. Not cold, not warm. Just familiar. And somehow, that was enough.
They didn't mention the night in the classroom. Not the music, not the laughter, not even the security guard incident. It all hung unspoken between them, like mist that hadn't burned off yet.
Their group was assigned to pitch one of the large tents at the far end of the field. Someone handed out stakes and poles. A few kids groaned about instructions; Rae just quietly got to work.
Silas stood beside her, helping stretch the tarp. Their hands brushed once while tying rope, and neither of them pulled away too quickly. And it felt… fine. No arguing like before.
The sun was higher now, casting soft gold through the trees as the group moved toward the campfire area. Rae wiped her palms on her pants, still a bit dusty from setting up the tent, when a familiar voice called out.
"Hey! Silas, Rae!"
Rae turned and saw Luca, waving with her usual effortless grin. She hadn't changed much, same messy ponytail, same silver earrings, same notebook tucked under one arm like she never left the art room.
Luca. One of their group members from the exhibition project. She'd been the most chill out of all of them, good with color blending, and the only one who stayed neutral when Rae and Silas clashed over concept.
Luca: "Didn't know you were joining this camp, thought you were too indoor for this kind of thing."
Rae: (smiled) "Yeah, I kinda still am."
They walked together, falling into a lazy triangle formation, Silas on one side, Luca on the other. Somewhere between talk about tents and lunch schedules, Luca started rambling about a novel she was reading, something set in a school, full of angst and longing.
Rae: "Wait… is that BL?"
Luca: (grinned) "Yup. I brought three volumes with me. Wanna borrow one?"
Rae: "I didn't know you were into that kind of thing."
Luca: "Pfft, a lot of people are, You'd be surprised."
Rae didn't respond, but something about that lingered in her head. It made her feel—oddly not alone. Like the world was more layered than she thought, and maybe… her thoughts weren't as strange as she once believed.
And then came Sephora.
Their art manager. She walked with quiet authority, clipboard in hand as always, her sunglasses perched on top of her head even though she barely needed them. Rae had spent so many days reporting to her—progress updates, budget checks, art supply complaints.
Sephora: "I hope you two haven't already tossed your brains into vacation mode."
Rae: "What?"
Sephora: (clicked her pen, like punctuation) "You remember the last phase of the exhibition, right? The final piece that ties the whole thing together? The one you both agreed to finish post-camp?"
Rae had almost forgotten. Or maybe she had buried it on purpose. She glanced sideways at Silas, who gave her a slow, resigned nod.
Rae: "Oh. That."
Sephora: "Don't sound so thrilled, It's important. And it's still your project. After camp, I expect you two to actually communicate and deliver."
Rae opened her mouth to argue, but Sephora was already walking away.
Luca: "Oof. She's still scary. But in a productive way."
Rae didn't answer. Because suddenly, the weight of that was back. That final project. That unfinished thread tying her to Silas.
The summer camp was nothing like Rae had imagined—it wasn't all awkward icebreakers and forced teamwork. It was chaotic, loud, and strangely beautiful in its own way.
There were early morning hikes through mist-drenched trails, the group stumbling half-awake as the forest stretched around them like something out of a dream. Rae wasn't used to being up that early, but watching the sun rise behind the hills made it feel worth it.
There were messy cooking challenges, where Luca somehow managed to set marshmallows on fire twice, and Silas—deadpan as ever—offered dry commentary like a reality show judge. Rae laughed more than she had in weeks, her cheeks aching from it.
By late afternoon, the camp had slowed into that sticky, golden lull—right between the chaos of the games and the calm before dinner. Most of the group had disappeared to the bathhouses, desperate to scrub off the dirt, grass, and whatever mysterious thing had gotten on Luca's shirt during the rope course.
Rae and Silas stayed behind near the tents, legs stretched out in the shade, each holding a paper cup of cheap instant noodles.
The silence between them was easy now. Just the soft rustle of wind, the slurp of noodles, the lazy hum of insects. Rae leaned back on her hands, blinking up at the sky. Silas sat cross-legged, picking out the bits of chili she didn't like.
Eventually, they stood, their legs stiff and clothes sticking just slightly to their skin from the afternoon heat.
Silas: "Should we go clean up? I feel like I've been rolled through the forest and left to die."
Rae: "Let's go before everyone—"
Too late. When they got to the bathhouse, the line wrapped around the side of the building. Towels slung over shoulders, sandals tapping the wooden floor impatiently. Loud voices. Steam already drifting out the window.
Silas scanned the crowd, then turned to Rae. Without even thinking, she said,
Silas: "Wanna just go in together?"
Rae froze.Absolutely, totally, froze.
Her brain screamed: WHAT.YOU CANNOT DO THIS.YOU CANNOT GO IN THERE WITH HER.
But on the outside, she somehow kept her cool. Blinked. Swallowed. Tried to answer with words that didn't sound like a squeak.
Rae: "Uh—what?"
Silas: (raised an eyebrow, like it was no big deal) "The line's too long. We're both girls. Who cares?"
Rae cares, Rae's brain hissed. But the words didn't make it to her mouth.
And so they stepped inside.
And the door clicked shut behind them.
Immediately, everything felt too close. Steam clung to her skin. The ceiling was low, the light too soft. The air smelled like soap and cedarwood and something faintly citrus.
Rae stood frozen in the changing corner, gripping her towel like it might save her soul. Silas had already slipped off her shirt, humming under her breath.
Rae stared very intently at the faucet. Or the floor. Or the plastic stool in the corner.
Anything but Silas.
Her thoughts were a frantic blur:I am in a box. With Silas Langley. And no clothes. This is fine. This is totally fine. Why does she look so unbothered. What do I do with my eyes. Where do I look. Can I just—die now?
She sat on the edge of the stool, careful, careful, careful not to look. She could feel Silas nearby—like electricity, like sunlight, like trouble.
Respect. Respect. Respect.That was the only thing Rae could chant to herself as the water hit her shoulders.
The whole thing lasted maybe ten minutes. But it felt like a century.
When they finally stepped outside, the late afternoon air felt cooler than it should've. The sun was lower now, gold bleeding into orange, cicadas humming somewhere deep in the trees.
And then Rae noticed.
The people waiting outside, some in line, some sitting nearby, looked up.
Not all of them. Not with anything obvious. But a few eyes lingered a beat too long. A slight tilt of the head. A glance from one to the other. Not questioning, not accusing, but… curious.
Rae felt the back of her neck heat up again—not from the bath this time, but from something she couldn't quite name.
They didn't say anything. No one asked. But she could feel it. That quiet look that said:You two went in together?
Silas didn't seem to notice, or maybe she did and just didn't care. She walked ahead like nothing was strange, towel in one hand, humming some tune under her breath. But Rae slowed, just a little, her thoughts spiraling.
She wasn't doing anything wrong. Right?
It was just a bath. Just steam and water and two people in a tiny room who didn't even talk much.
But still—she felt seen in a way that made her chest tighten.
Not exposed, exactly. Just... noticed.
And somehow, that was worse.