The next day, you remember listening to the radio. It was happening in the kitchen, during lunch. Your father was reading the newspaper — as usual — while your mother savored her coffee, like it was only the first one of the day.

You were eating, thinking back to Steve. You were remembering the night before, the way it was in his car. The nice smell he gave off, so captivating. His car was an extension of himself.

As you brought a spoonful of cereal to your mouth, you were thinking about what happened next. He had apologized, tried to kiss you, then got angry, making you cry hot tears.

Tears you had to hide, wipe away, dry before going back into the Wheeler house.

Like it didn't matter.

Like, in a few words, Steve hadn't just emotionally destroyed you.

Forgetting wasn't an easy task, his voice kept echoing in that parking lot...

“If you don't give me answers, I'll find them by myself.”

It came out both cold and cruel, almost unhealthy in a way — like that truth was owed to him. The truth, which you also prefer to keep to yourself. Buried in every interaction, in every conversation, in every word, deep in your heart. Now, Steve wanted that truth.

You remember hearing the radio volume go up, along with a yawn escaping your mouth. It was still early morning. Yet, you'd noticed it. You turned your head quickly toward the kitchen counter, right behind you. Your mother was there, wearing a big smile on her pink lips, a wondering look directed at you. Her pink-manicured fingers were on the radio volume knob, which she'd turned up. It was the WSQK station, Robin and Steve. The music.

"Look, it's that music you were playing on repeat last month." Your mother said with overflowing enthusiasm. Enthusiasm that seemed excessive to you, you weren't really excited.

No. You felt your cheeks flush at the thought that Steve might have suggested this music to Robin — it was unthinkable. Your mother wasn't aware of what happened the night before, or why this music was playing in your kitchen, early in the morning, while you're still digesting your cereal. You let her think it's just a coincidence.

"That's funny." The sound from your father's direction echoes, his newspaper landing near your ear. You turned around too quickly, you noticed a glint in his eyes. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened. He was just happy for you, even if he didn't show it much.

You let them believe in coincidence. It makes things simpler.

You remember feeling uncomfortable. At first, your mind turned to your bowl of cereal. Maybe the milk had gone bad overnight. That's funny. Maybe it was just the thought that quickly turned to Steve, what he'd told you before leaving for Nancy. That's it — no, it can't be that.

But it was, you know it very well.

That's why you spent a month without any possible interaction with Steve. That charming young man. Whether at home, in your room, at a friend's place, or at work, where your student salary only gets you three loaves of bread. You were also in your backyard. Robin came to see you often. She never stopped talking. Your exchanges remained casual, until she asked you several times about how things were with Steve.

You remember that too. In your bedroom, the window was open to let a breeze — still tolerable — circulate in this room that was way too stuffy because of the dry summer heat. You and Robin were eating ice cream, strawberry, that your mother had given you both after a big meal.

"Steve and you… is that a thing that works? I saw you b—" Robin had started. You interrupted her without catching the end of her sentence.

"There's nothing. He's still as dumb as those hair products he uses." You regretted saying that last part. It just shows even more your childish side, your lingering affection for him.

Robin just glanced to the side, like she didn't accept the answer either. However, she didn't say anything or argue.

Remember that Steve didn't come to you. It's funny, really funny — you have a different opinion. You think he could have come to your house, knocked on your door, confessed that he finally knows your secret. He insults you again, calling you a kid before maybe sharing a kiss. No, that's too childish — a fairy tale that's not very believable. Be realistic, girl.

The truth was hard to accept. It's the one that people experiencing unrequited love refuse to acknowledge — he'll never make the first move.

That's a fact.

You spent hours and days feeling trapped, like you urgently needed Steve to come closer to you. You at least want to hear his voice. Maybe you'd like to hear his awkward jokes or silently admire the perfection of his hair. His nose, his lips...

You spent time with Robin asking her a few little questions, really insignificant. Like, did Steve go with you to that place? or how's Nancy? You'd then add Jonathan and Steve's names. To your surprise, Robin, your best friend, wouldn't give you that sharp, suggestive look that would betray she knew you still had feelings for her best friend. It was subtle. And that's what you believed for several days. Staying discreet, until something happened.

However, nothing changed. Steve was doing well, Robin let you know. He's fine, she'd repeat. It seemed he had a thing with a girl, which felt particularly unfair to you. You stayed waiting, hoping to confront him, maybe ending up in tears, but on his side, he ignored you and moved on to a new chapter — while you stayed stuck in the old one. The past.

You realized it was Robin who played that music that day on WSQK radio. You're one hundred percent sure. There's not the slightest doubt about it. It could only be her, not Steve. It's through him that you got that answer. His attitude, the fact he didn't come near you and made no contact, made you hope Robin was checking on you for Steve. She never did.

He ignored you. It's hard to admit, it's reality.

So it was her, not Steve.

Today, even though it looks like an ordinary day, it stands out for a particular reason.

It's a birthday.

In front of your bathroom mirror, you examine your outfit. You went with a simple look: light blue denim shorts paired with a gray sweatshirt. You didn't choose a dress, because that would be a bad idea. You don't want to get it dirty.

This July marked Erica Sinclair's birthday. She's Lucas's sister, whom you know well through him, because he introduced you a year ago in that arcade.

From your first meeting, Erica didn't leave your side. Indeed, this young lady quickly became your friend. It all started with a simple encounter in the arcade.

Max, El, and the boys had asked you to join them in that game room where other kids were. Among them, some were sweating and throwing candy at their friends. It's possible a few of those candies landed on you, whether on the back of your head, your arms, or even your lower back.

Sometimes you'd get angry, the new manager considered you like a 15-year-old teenager. It annoyed you. You don't look anything like a girl that age. It's completely ridiculous.

Max and El were always on your back, talking to you non-stop and asking for your advice on games or how to beat the boys. They knew about your good reputation in that arcade, because it was the only activity you enjoyed during your first years of high school, where you'd go to channel your energy.

Lucas had brought his little sister, Erica. She acted like a secret weapon for the boys, whenever they lost, she'd take their place to face the girls. You also remember Erica winning every match, racking up points. Max, meanwhile, would whistle every insult that came to mind, while poor El was lost, not knowing where to stand.

The girls, Max and El, had to choose you as their lifeline. It was the same decision the boys made with Erica. You had to battle on one machine, just like Erica on another. You were simply side by side, as neighbors. You beat her multiple times. The guys were stunned, while the girls sang victory songs. Erica, for her part, tried to beat her high score on the machine, just like you. Eventually, you came out on top.

This happened several times over the weekend, you kept winning. The other kids were just spectators of your duel with Erica. And you won, again and again. Then, another weekend, right before school started, Erica showed up at your place to talk. The young girl had admitted defeat, saying: “...you're really good...”, “I'll give you that.”, then suddenly, she asked you: “So, what's your secret?”

After that visit, you and Erica found yourselves in that arcade where you played together and learned some techniques on Sundays. You'd talk about games, then school, movies, comics. You felt almost like a big sister to her.

Then, about a year later, Erica invited you to her birthday.

The camp is huge. As early as 7 in the morning, the birds are singing, marking your arrival on this birthday. The summer heat is oppressive, you feel a dislike for it. However, this dislike doesn't compare to what you feel for your sweatshirt. Yesterday, on your living room TV, they'd announced rain. Rain, not blazing sun even before it properly rises in the sky. Heat that reminds you your stomach is starting to bead with sweat.

You need to be here for the whole weekend. Today, Friday, you'll spend three days and two nights in a cabin. It's likely your roommate will be another kid or Robin, assuming the organizers, the Sinclair parents, are kind.

The shouts of a few kids already echo in the dirt courtyard you're crossing to reach the only place where the sun's rays don't penetrate. Your sweatshirt sticks to your skin, your arms and stomach, you internally express your gratitude for your strawberry-scented perfume.

It's a summer camp, as the welcome sign indicates: "Camp NightWink." The Sinclairs probably booked this place for the weekend. The camp is decorated with many pink and purple banners bearing Erica Sinclair's name along with birthday wishes. Balloons are also hanging around, still in shades of pink and purple.

Your hair floats in a gentle breeze, almost too warm, as you sit on your single suitcase, in the shade of a doorway. In front of you, kids are playing with water guns and water balloons. Laughter fills the atmosphere around you. You're far enough not to get splashed. You wonder about the size of the Sinclair family. Erica and the kids aren't here yet, at least not visible in front of you, just like Robin and the Sinclair parents.

A little girl turns around and stares at you intensely before waving at you, her pigtails bouncing happily as she quickly runs off, another kid having sprayed her in the face with his water gun. You can't help but laugh at the scene.

The sound of an engine interrupts your laugh, your eyes turn to where your parents had dropped you off earlier. A bright red car pulls into the parking lot, near the cabins, including the one you're at. Its shine makes you squint, the sun making it even harder. The windows, too tinted, prevent you from identifying the driver.

At the same time the passenger door of this car opens, you stand up from your seat. A blonde woman gets out.

"Robin!" You shout as you go down the three steps leading to the cabin, heading toward your best friend. She was waiting for you, arms wide open, calling your name too.

You hug her and you both laugh. Then, you pull back slightly to admire her outfit of the day: she's wearing a green and white sleeveless t-shirt, paired with denim shorts just like yours. Her short, light brown hair with blonde highlights is left loose, as usual.

"I felt like I was the only one here." You admit. Your eyes land on her face. She radiates joy while looking at her surroundings. You can almost see a touch of nostalgia in it.

"I missed this camp..." She almost talks to herself, before her blue eyes fix on yours again. You give her a smile, "Oh— yeah, sorry for the time it took, but Steve and the boys wouldn't stop arguing about shoes and cleanliness in the car... well, you know."

Robin continues her story, your eyes immediately land on the vehicle right behind your best friend. At that exact moment, Steve emerges from the car through the driver's door. The other boys, Mike, Dustin, Will, also appear, already lost in their own world.

A pressure builds in your throat, pain hits your head, discomfort settles in your lower stomach. It's not because of the heat.

Steve walks around his car, then starts walking with way too much confidence toward Robin, who's right next to him. His eyes didn't linger on you for a second. Is it you who doesn't understand? His dark sunglasses make it even blurrier. He never looks at you. Okay, you look down, a wave of shame hitting you because of your hope.

"— and then, Dustin had to make a comment about the color of Steve's beautiful Ford Mustang GT for that kid to get threatened with being abandoned on the road... it was crazy, I'm just glad to finally be near you." Robin admits, without realizing the guy is right next to her, hands in his blue jeans pockets. You look up and notice the white t-shirt he's wearing with remarkable ease. His biceps are perfectly outlined.

"Well... me too." That's all your mind allows you to express. You don't want to run into Steve again. Seeing him again right now seems like a really bad idea. You want to laugh about it, it's been weeks you've been waiting for this day. Aren't you happy?

No, you want to throw up and lose yourself in that lake.

Robin looks at you strangely after your words. Her eyes move around her before suddenly landing on Steve, who stays still. "Didn't anyone ever teach you it's rude to listen to girls' conversations?" she scolds him. Steve then turns his head toward her, wearing an amused look. A mocking smile appears on his lips.

"Grab your suitcase, because I'm not doing it for you, Rob." Steve finally speaks. However, he still doesn't acknowledge you. No greeting, no gesture, nothing at all.

"I know, Popeye, but if you could grab your suitcase and get out of here, that'd make me really happy." Robin retorts, clearly at the end of her rope. Her furrowed brows lift, challenging Steve, who takes off his sunglasses.

He folds them and puts them in his hand, then throws one last look at Robin, leaving you forgotten. You could say a small war is happening between them. "That's exactly what I was planning to do," Steve replies, just like your friend.

"You're still here." She fires back, and you burst out laughing. The absurdity of this situation makes you laugh.

As soon as those eyes fix on you, you quickly feel regret. It's not in a friendly way, it's even a bit too harsh. You regret it immediately. "Can you tell me what's so funny?" He mentions your name, his tone is so raw and mean that you immediately turn to Robin for support. Robin gives you a compassionate look, then directs her attention to Steve.

"You didn't even say hi, but you take the pleasure of scolding her like a kid." She answers for you. You should have done it yourself, being mature enough, but a lump formed in your throat, making you unable to speak to him directly. It seems you suddenly feel too intimidated by him.

Why does it block you now, when you'd been mean to him multiple times before? You should start again. Do it.

"It's not my fault she acts like one." Steve states, you look at him with an exasperated look, arms crossed, giving him a similar look to what Robin's giving him. It's obvious he stands out as the black sheep.

"Maybe your ridiculous behavior makes me laugh. Clowns are here to make people laugh, right? Isn't that why you're here?" You defend yourself. Steve immediately turns his brown and green eyes to you, without showing the slightest sign of kindness. He seems surprised by your words.

"I'm here for Erica's birthday, Erica Sinclair, you know? I don't even know why you're here." The guy gives you a smile that seems way too mean, "Oh wait, you're here to play with these kids." Steve points at the kids from before, who are still playing with water.

It's way too hot for you to let anger take over, so you take a deep breath and give him a sweet smile, which he immediately returns the same way.

You back up and go back through that spot, heading straight for the kids. Robin gave you a confused and curious look, while Steve makes fun of you, without taking his eyes off you.

"Excuse me, I need help." You lean down to the little girl's level you saw earlier. Her dark eyes stare at you with great curiosity and overflowing energy. You smile at her as she nods and turns fully toward you, focusing all her attention on you. "What is it?" The little girl asks, in a voice too sweet.

You smile at her, "The big guy behind me keeps saying mean things to me, I need your water gun to defend myself." The little eyes look up over your shoulder, where Steve is. He's talking to Robin, probably saying something. The little girl nods and hands you her water gun, which you take, thanking her.

As you turn around, you head toward Steve, who's not paying attention to you, hands on his hips. It looks like he figured you're leaving for good. "Steve, watch out!" You shout at him, and he turns around instantly, muttering incomprehensible words, while you find yourself face to face with him, splashing water on his face.

Around you both, the laughter of Robin and the kids echoes. You can even hear the three boys calling for battle.

You're not a kid, there won't be a fight. This will just be settling scores.

"Cut it out, you idiot." Steve tries to grab your water gun, but every time he moves forward or his arm reaches out to grab what you're holding, you step back. You laugh at him, while the water keeps hitting his face.

"How do you feel now, idiot?" You speak, stopping the water spray that's hitting his face. The water slides down his features, dripping along his neck, while his white t-shirt gets completely soaked. You try to suppress this sudden urge to look in that direction.

"I didn't know you could be so pathetic, if you wanted to defend yourself, you should have used words, not some lousy water gun stolen from a kid."

"I didn't steal it, I asked nicely and received it. Maybe you should realize not everyone's an asshole like you." You express your irritation at his current attitude. The atmosphere between you two has become particularly heavy, while the kids keep laughing lightly, but the others went silent immediately after your words.

You don't feel regret, do you? He deserved it, after ignoring you for a month, several weeks. You reap what you sow.

Steve stays still, his eyes locked on your face. You look at him too, without any sympathy showing in your eyes or on your lips.

You can hear a throat clearing, followed by a door slamming and a female voice ringing with excessive intensity, "Why do I hear shouting at my birthday?" Erica almost yells as she comes down the steps of a cabin, then the dirt ground. She walks toward Steve and you.

Your eyes immediately land on the young girl wearing a pretty short pink dress, "Happy—"

"Happy birthday, Erica." Steve steps forward, backing away toward Erica, who stares at him with narrowed eyes.

"Is there something going on between you two or what? If that's the case, you settle it now or else, I'll kick you out of my birthday without a ounce of remorse." Erica says, though you can see it, her look is a bit too tender, especially compared to Steve's, who gives her a severe look.

"There's nothing. She just didn't want to help me get the suitcases, you know, it's faster with two." Steve makes up a story, you stare at him with wide eyes. Liar.

"Is that true?" Erica looks at you, her eyes landing on you. You could interpret this as a request for truth from her. It's a simple question.

You glance behind Steve, meeting Robin's gaze, who nods her head, like you should approve of the lie Steve just told in front of Erica.

"I... he's right. I should have kept quiet and helped him."

"And that's why he's all wet?" Erica, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, doesn't seem to believe a word you're both saying. Steve, meanwhile, frowns at her words and gives you a meaningful look. He's letting you know he expects you to keep lying.

You roll your eyes, "He gets on my nerves quickly with those insults." Steve snickers and covers his face with his big hands, hiding it.

"Alright... but I've got my eye on you for the whole weekend, no more arguing, understood?" The young girl points at both of you, then throws an angry look at Steve, who stares back with furrowed brows.

"I didn't do anything wrong—" Steve mutters to Erica, but she interrupts him by raising her palm in front of his face, signaling him to shut up.

After this discussion, all the guys, along with Robin, wished Erica a happy birthday. As Steve mentioned — or rather, as he lied — you go with him to help with his suitcases. On the way, you position yourself near Erica before hugging her, which she accepts, you wish her a happy birthday. She gave you another strange look before you left.

You find yourself near the trunk of Steve's car, who's also there, lifting the two suitcases inside. Glancing discreetly, you notice the three boys with their duffel bags, as well as Lucas and Max talking with them a bit too animatedly near a cabin. As for Robin, she's out of your sight, maybe she's inside, you don't know exactly where she is.

"Robin's suitcase, just bring it, you're in the same room." Steve, a bit out of breath, closes the trunk, his hand staying on it a bit too long. He's turned toward you, without looking at you.

"How do you know that?" You ask, lifting Robin's suitcase, putting in some effort. What did she put in there that's so heavy?

Steve walks toward you, with a slightly too slow movement, brows furrowed, "I just guessed."

"Uh, you didn't at all." You laugh without amusement. Your eyes land on his face. He's staring at you, having already put his own suitcase behind him.

"You're really going to keep this up, aren't you?" He's leaning against the trunk of his car, arms crossed over his chest, while his t-shirt slowly dries. He looks you up and down.

"I'm not continuing anything, Steve." You seem calm, but deep irritation burns in your thoughts and shines in your eyes directed at him.

Steve nods, looking down, approaches you, making you take two steps back because he gets a bit too close. He slides his hands into his pockets and lifts his head to look at you closely — your eyes, your rosy cheeks, your lips, your chin. "We promised Erica to behave better, but if you keep this up, I'll take pleasure in annoying you all weekend long."

"Why do you have to be so mean to me, Steve? I didn't do anything wrong." You whisper, slightly hurt by these words. Your voice wavers, like tears are about to fall.

He furrows his brows, then dives his gaze back into your eyes, "I'm not mean. You're just not someone I consider a friend, and that I need to show respect to. It's simple." He says your name a bit too bitterly.

You hold back your anger, your eyes burning with rage and the desire to defend yourself, you know every word that would cross your lips would only make things worse.

Nodding, you notice Steve's jaw clenches and moves to the left — a look of regret appears on his face. He can't help but stare at you, his eyes remain fixed on your face.

You take a step back, grab your friend's suitcase, leave with it, looking for where Robin is.

Erica's birthday will happen in several stages. First, today, Friday, you'll all gather to go over the weekend schedule ahead, which spans two days. Additionally, a campfire is planned, and Robin will be in charge of telling a story tonight.

What you've already heard, what Erica shared with everyone in the camp dining hall, is that the birthday cake and presents celebration will only happen on Sunday early evening, to mark the end.

Tomorrow morning, Saturday, you'll participate in a treasure hunt, with easy clues hidden all around the camp and forest. In the afternoon, an orienteering kayak race will be organized, supervised by instructors already hired by the Sinclair parents. In the evening, get ready for a nighttime hide-and-seek. Sunday morning, a big breakfast will be served in the camp dining hall, followed in the afternoon by a costume relay race for the younger kids and teenagers.

Night came quickly, the sun slowly disappearing on the horizon, the heat persisting until around 8 PM, when it finally gave way to a more pleasant coolness.

You chose a pretty summer dress, short with thin straps, in baby blue, pink, white. It's a nice summer dress you decided to put on, you'd had enough of your sweatshirt and denim shorts that were starting to stick a bit too much to your thighs.

Your hair is still damp from the shower you took after handing Robin her suitcase, as well as yours, getting acquainted with your room for the weekend shared with Robin, as Steve mentioned. Robin is already set up near the campfire, sitting on a tree stump, chatting with the same kids from this morning, Erica and other young girls the same age as the birthday girl. The guys, Max and Steve seem absent.

As you approach them, the orange glow enters your pupils, slightly blinding you. Looking away, you notice Robin, her hair gathered in a high bun with stray strands. She seems absorbed in something, a story she's telling.

"Finally here, so, can I start?" Robin says, her blue eyes darkened by the night looking you up and down with a raised eyebrow. You simply nod and settle on the only available tree stump, which no one's sitting on.

"When's the big guy getting here?" Asks a young blonde girl, sitting next to Erica. Erica rolls her eyes before turning to her, "Steve's not coming, Jasmine."

You want to roll your eyes, you don't care about this kind of charisma Steve gives off every time he shows up somewhere. You really wonder what goes through girls' heads to be so crazy about him. Honestly, he's nothing special.

Yet, he's still your crush, isn't he?

You banish this thought that invites itself uninvited, you direct your gaze to Robin, who, lips slightly parted, is about to tell her story.

"Are you familiar with Camp Nightwing?" your friend asks her audience. The kids, eyes wide, scan their surroundings while shaking their heads no. Even the girls near Erica do the same. However, Erica, rolling her eyes, declares, "Oh, I know it inside out, I've been coming here since I was a kid, my parents and my idiot brother are huge fans of this camp."

Robin looks at her, squinting, "But do you know what happened here in 1978? Have you ever heard about the June 1978 massacre?" The wind blows a bit too hard, extinguishing the fire for a few seconds before it relights. You can hear gasps of surprise from some kids and girls. Glancing at Erica, you notice she raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. Robin keeps staring at her with a mocking smile.

"What's a massacre?" A small child's voice rises in front of you. He seems at once curious and a little scared. Robin looks at him carefully and responds in a soothing tone, "I'll explain it to you through this story, listen closely." All the kids nod, which makes you smile inwardly.

In a flash, you feel a burning gaze on your face. When you turn your eyes to this person, you discover Erica, her dark eyes scanning you. She gives you a smile, while stifling a laugh, then her gaze rises even higher.

Erica glances over your shoulder and, turning slightly, you see a male silhouette approaching you all. Even though the lights illuminate him, you recognize him right away: he's wearing casual clothes, a dark zipped jacket and dark gray beach shorts. His hair is messy, but in a way that seems perfect.

Too perfect, you tilt your head, redirecting it toward Robin. You truly hope Steve moves away, far from you. Not on the same tree stump, which is the only one left. You feel eyes on you, you realize your wish isn't coming true.

"Oh it's the big guy." exclaims a kid, pointing at him. You look up at the sky, your eyes fixed on the dancing fire in front of you. A rough laugh is heard, "That's me, the big guy?" Steve's voice resonates beside you.

You hear him sit next to you, his knee bumping yours, making you move to create a comfortable space between you.

"Steve, shut up, I'm telling a story!" Robin scolds Steve in a soft voice, like she wants to keep the atmosphere she created by telling this story to the kids.

When you turn your head to check if he's well next to you, at a proper distance, you only see his profile. He nods toward Robin, pretending to zip his mouth. The kids burst out laughing. Your eyes linger a bit too long on his face. Another moment, until his eyes land on you. You redirect your gaze to Robin, who continues her story.

You hear Steve clear his throat next to you. "So, where was I—ah yes, there was a girl, a girl from Shadyside whose name, over time, faded like all those names that brush against legends. But she had a gift. Not flashy visions, not obvious monsters. She noticed the details others preferred not to look at too closely. Smiles that didn't fit faces. Heavy silences, looks, looks that seemed to be waiting for something..."

Robin narrates, emphasizing certain words. A few kids had huddled in a group hug, staring at your friend with eyes wide as deer. Erica, with her too-serious expression, along with her friends. Then, you finally catch Jasmine, the last one, glancing your way. Toward the only person next to you, Steve. A bit too long, which makes you roll your eyes. Again.

Robin continues her story, you listen again, having been distracted by your thoughts, "And then came the decisive night. The night the camp stopped being just a camp. The night the paths started moving under the steps of those fleeing. Where the lamps stopped showing what they should have illuminated. Where the voices, in the woods, started answering the calls... with perfectly—"

Suddenly, Robin stops, drawn by shouts from the woods. Steve immediately raises his hand in front of you, you move back, your eyes turning toward the forest. A deep laugh emerges from the shadows, very close. The kids, along with the girls and Erica, scream in fear. Then, when Robin stands up to go investigate, laughter echoes again from the woods, followed by rustling, until four guys appear from behind the trees.

Mike, Will, Dustin, and Lucas.

They all burst out laughing before running away. Robin yells at them not to do that again and lets them know how stupid they are, but the four friends are laughing so hard they don't catch a word of what your friend is saying.

Robin returns to her seat, trying to reassure the kids. You give up all resistance when Steve's arm disappears from your field of vision. A shiver runs through you at this proximity, you cross your legs while wrapping your arms around yourself, staring at the fire again.

You hesitate, Robin resumes her story as a child just finished crying, you hesitate to look at him. Your eyes, they burn with desire to look at him, to give him a little glance. Finally, you give in, pretending you're uncrossing your legs to sneak a peek. Steve, meanwhile, is already watching you from the corner of his eye, his expression serious, before looking away as a breath of cool air makes the flame flicker once more. Your cheeks flush.

"...in this turmoil, the girl from Shadyside underwent a transformation. Some say she was possessed. Others claim she had become a passage. Still others argue she was just the point where something very ancient had found a form to act... what's undeniable is that on that night, the camp's rules had lost all meaning. The groups scattered. The voices multiplied. The woods began to echo as if the whole landscape was animated by one silent intention. And then, there was the fire... a fire that didn't behave like an ordinary blaze. A fire that seemed to hesitate, to skirt around certain trees, to avoid certain areas like something was imposing invisible limits..."

Robin continues her story, while an irresistible urge to flee takes over you. The proximity and Steve's smell oppress you to the point where you long for fresh air. Discreetly, you stand up, Robin gives you an intrigued look while continuing her speech. You simply gesture toward the forest before leaving this gathering. You avoid meeting the eyes of the person next to you. You continue your path toward the place you want to reach.

You get lost.

Not far from this camp, a few kilometers away, there's a lake, somewhere near the forest. It's the same lake where you'll go kayaking tomorrow afternoon.

You venture into this dense forest, surrounded by trees and foliage, while bats flutter above your head in the night sky. The chirping of crickets resonates around you. A shiver runs through your whole body at the thought that someone malicious could be lurking somewhere, ready to jump out. These thoughts swirl in your mind, disturbing the peace you so hope for. Finally, your steps lead you to a brighter space: the lake.

The moon, clear of any clouds, reflects on the lake. The sound of water fills your ears, you let yourself be carried away by watching it, your eyes fixed on this lake, while your thoughts are entirely focused on the only person making your heart beat at this moment.

Why does he have to act so rude now? He discovered your little secret. He knows you have a soft spot for him, but instead of accepting it, he's making you pay for it. Is that it? That's really cruel of him. You don't like this at all. This feeling displeases you. Your eyes light up at the thought that you missed the only chance to get closer to him, to stay in his orbit. If it hadn't been for this camp, this birthday, you never would have found yourself here in your opinion.

You're not friends. He said it.

The wind is cool, but it has that little warm side that evokes summer. You wonder what the water would feel like on your skin, its temperature. You lean slightly and touch the water with your feet. It's still ice cold, even in this heat.

"You planning on going in?" You jump at the sound of a voice behind you. Turning around, you recognize the familiar silhouette that had approached the campfire. Steve stands in the shadows, the moon seeming hesitant to show itself with its light.

You take a deep breath as you look at him. He takes a step forward, this time under the moonlight. Hands in his front pockets, he wears his usual laid-back look. You finally roll your eyes and turn back to look at the lake, which seems more welcoming and accessible.

You hear his voice again, he steps toward you, "You want to go for a midnight swim, is that it?" His tone seems a bit sarcastic, but you're not sure if it's your interpretation or if he's asking an innocent question, without any double meaning.

"What I do is none of your business." You simply answer, looking down at your feet, wearing black flip-flops. You hope he disappears, arms crossed over your chest. "You'd better leave and leave me alone, Steve."

"I'm leaving you alone, but I'm not doing anything wrong, actually, I'm just asking a question." You feel his presence right behind you, a bit too close for your liking. Maybe he's trying to provoke you. There it is.

You take a deep breath, then turn around quickly to face him. He's already there, right in front of you. You step back and throw in his face, "Get lost, go somewhere else!" But all you get in return is his mocking smile, nothing more.

You stare at him through his eyes, which are already locked on yours, "Don't you understand? I don't want to see you here, I came to be alone with myself, not with you, Steve." You persist. He seems still, just looking at his surroundings now. You bite your lower lip before looking back at the lake.

"If you want me to keep an eye on you, feel free to jump in that lake, I have a lifeguard certification, no worries." Steve's voice echoes again. You barely turn your head to give him a look. Irritation rises in you. It burns in your chest.

"I don't want to go in that damn lake. I want you to leave now. Stop messing around and listen to me, damn it!"

"Well, I want to go in... it's a place I can go without some little girl lecturing me." He says your name right after and gives you a wink before taking the lead toward the lake. His shoulder bumps yours, you look at the dark forest stretching before you, then you raise your hands to rub the back of your neck to find some inner peace.

"Calm down." You whisper.

"What did you say?" You turn instantly toward Steve's voice, you regret it when you see him only in dark boxer briefs. You force yourself not to let your eyes drop lower than his hairy chest.

"Damn, what's wrong with you, Steve, stripping like that?" You say with irritation, turning back to face the trees again, your hands covering your eyes — embarrassed and cheeks burning.

"I don't plan on soaking my clothes, sweetheart." Your eyes widen at the sound of the nickname. Your cheeks must be even redder, like you put your face too close to the campfire flames. But no, he's at a good distance. You're both far enough from the camp.

"Keep them on, I'd rather not see you in underwear." You declare, without hiding your distaste in your words. In reality, you're perfectly aware that it's not disgust you feel. A silence settles between you, then Steve's laugh echoes near the lake's edge, breaking the heavy silence and quickly filling the air around you.

"The water's a bit cold but nice, you know. You're really missing out." Despite Steve's words, you keep staring at the forest. You don't intend to give in to his attempts. He's being nice. You're not fooled.

Not so fooled that you don't glance over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of Steve. He has his back to you, the water reaching his waist, then he sinks further and the water reaches now his shoulder blades. He's really put on weight and gained muscle since high school. Your eyes can't help but follow him. You even watch him when he dives into the water and comes back up, running his hands through his hair to push it back.

You breathe deeply, as if carrying the weight of a heavy gaze.

Steve turns around abruptly, you do the same, pretending not to have noticed him for a while. You don't even realize your hands have grabbed your dress at the stomach, lifting it slightly. It's just anxiety, right? Nothing more. "Are you sure you don't want to enjoy some coolness here? I can see you over there sweating in this heat, I know you want to go in." Steve continues.

You glance at him over your shoulder and declare, "I'm not getting undressed in my underwear with you in that lake."

"I don't bite. Actually, I'm pretty respectful." Steve's voice echoes across the space between you, you look at your feet first, glance back again. You know it. He is respectful. That's really the worst.

Silence settles between you again, confronting you with two options. Dare and finally get closer to your high school crush, or, leave, leave this relationship behind.

Your eyes blink, the decision is now made. Your feet move on their own toward the lake, making wet branches crack under your steps.

Looking up, you notice Steve is already staring at you. You take a breath, he looks at you intensely, "Turn around and keep your distance. This heat is driving me absolutely crazy..." you say, then whisper, lies exchanged between you. You're aware it's not true, it's all fake.

He listens to you attentively, he nods, turns around, while preserving your privacy. You scold yourself for the lack of seriousness of this situation. If others approach, what will they think?

Get rid of this embarrassment.

You let your straps slide off your shoulders, abandoning them with your dress next to Steve's clothes. Your hair is barely drying, you don't care. You find yourself in only your baby blue slightly transparent bra and matching panties. You take a deep breath, not because of the wind which is warm, but because of the man who still has his back turned.

You walk toward the lake, feet bare, feeling every texture of the earth, branches, finally the water. It's ice cold. Refreshing. A shiver runs through you as the water reaches your knees, then your hips. You try to keep your cool in the face of this coolness. Finally, you fully submerge in the lake, the water enveloping you up to your shoulders, you find yourself behind Steve.

One of your hands rises, one of your fingers taps Steve's shoulder. He slowly turns toward you, his eyes landing on your face, which you immediately look away to scan the surroundings. You don't dare look him straight in the eyes, it's like opening your heart to him, you're not ready to do that. Not yet.

"Are you happy?" asks Steve. You frown and give him a confused look. "You're finally swimming in this lake." he adds.

Looking up, you turn to swim elsewhere. You really missed swimming. Even though you don't answer, you keep going until you dive into the water. You feel the water dance over your entire body. It's nice.

You surface and brush away the few strands of hair falling on your face. You think you're at a reasonable distance from Steve, turning around, you realize there's no trace of him. He's nowhere to be found.

The moon lights up the lake in a rather pleasant way, you try to look around, he's nowhere.

Panic starts to set in when you feel a hand grab one of your feet, pulling you into the depths of the water.

You struggle until two strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close to a body. Opening your eyes, you notice the water has a strange color, slightly illuminated by the moon, you can make out Steve standing in front of you, though you only see his torso, your hands flat against it. Looking up, you finally see his face, which is already staring at you.

You push him away. He lets you go. You resurface. Lack of air makes you cough, you put a hand on your chest to try to control this cough. Maybe it's also this closeness between your two bodies.

Steve surfaces shortly after. He shakes his head, water streaming from his hair. Perfect hair. You breathe deeply, look away, cheeks burning and throat too.

"W-why did you grab my foot like that, huh!?" You almost shout at him. The eyes you see are full of mischief and his lips stretch into a smile, teeth shining, showing his amusement at your reaction.

"I thought you'd like it. No?" Steve's words leave you confused. You stay silent, while he stares at you, as if he knows. It immediately makes you uncomfortable.

“If you don't give me answers, I'll find them by myself.”

It echoes again in your mind. As if it was yesterday. Steve finally understood. He knows about your little crush on him.

You swallow hard and burst out laughing without really finding it funny at what he just said. "W-why are you saying that?" You ask him innocently, masking your nervousness behind a seemingly ordinary question.

Steve stares at you with sustained attention, without a stupid smile on his face. He moves forward slowly, breaking the water's surface with a sudden movement, diving his gaze into yours as if hoping for silent approval of your emotions. It's in your head, he's not doing anything for you or your unfortunate feelings.

"I'm not saying anything... why do you look like you've seen a ghost all of a sudden?" Steve throws at you with excessive seriousness. A completely serious face, not a hint of humor.

"Everything's fine, Steve." You murmur, a new wave of irritation settling in your chest. Steve glances to his sides, then gives you a smile, "I was just joking, relax." He then says your name. You breathe deeply to calm down. Your eyes land on his lips.

Steve approaches you, then passes you to dive back into the water and swim further away. You seize this opportunity to catch your breath and curse yourself internally. You were about to ruin everything. He must not know yet. Right? Tell me I'm right.

You sink into the water. Your head submerged in this vast expanse of fresh water, the sounds of crickets, the mysterious whispers of the forest, the distant hoots of night owls fade away.

Your hair dances around your face as you start moving forward, swimming and leaving behind the man who is no longer part of your world. He is lost in his thoughts, you are in yours.

At the surface, you pivot slightly from your previous position. Steve is still nowhere to be found. You stare at the moonlight, dazzling, before looking toward the shore. It might be time to go.

You approach it. "Already done?" Steve's voice rings out behind you. You turn around, eyes narrowed, admit, "I'm bored now." However, you're not yet facing him.

"You want to have fun?" He repeats your name again, it's so captivating you can't resist. A few meters from you, his face is clearly visible, still no smile, eyes sparkling with undeniable mischief. You feel a growing tension between you as the distance shrinks.

"Do you know how to have fun?" you ask him, with a doubtful look, while approaching him by swimming.

Now, being close to him, you stare at him as you look up, not sure if your gaze meets his. You face him. Steve watches you carefully.

"Then, show me." You answer, now fully locked in eye contact, his landing on your lips. You mirror this gesture. Like two magnets.

He finally looks up and nods. Then, you feel his hands on your waist before suddenly lifting you, causing a splash of water around you. You let out a cry of surprise and your hands grab his shoulders. One of his large hands goes down to your knee to place your leg around his waist. Understanding what he expects of you, you do the same with your other leg.

He doesn't look away, no, not at all. Steve stares at your face, which is both surprised and red. You try to say a few words, nothing comes out. Not even when Steve whispers to you: "This is the fun for me." Another mischievous smile. He's well aware of his effect. Close.

These adventures with those other girls taught him a lot. Other girls have touched him. You blink at this thought, pushing it into oblivion.

"That's... you've done that with other girls before, this is just an act..." you murmur, your voice barely escaping as a gasp as Steve's face gets closer to you — to your chest, to your bra.

Steve moves his head, you squint, anger flooding you again, "I've never been in a lake with a girl, never." He reveals this to you, his nose getting alarmingly close to your chest. You feel a shiver, the ache between your legs starting to manifest.

You push your chest back, "You're lying. You've definitely done it." You say these words, your hands pressing on his shoulders to keep his body a few centimeters from yours. His arms wrap around you more intensely. If he wants to touch you, he needs to be honest.

"Be honest."

Steve furrows his brows, his hands are now at the bottom of your thighs and begin to slowly and dangerously move up toward your backside. You feel a shiver, his voice suddenly becomes serious, "I told you the truth, it's up to you to decide if you choose to believe me or not."

You search his gaze, wondering if he's telling the truth. Is he lying? You try to detect any sign that might betray him, but he seems sincere in his words. Steve is no longer smiling, he has a serious expression.

"You have so much history that it's almost hard to believe you." You squint at him, maintaining a distance between you two.

"You want me to prove it?" asks Steve, with a mysterious and almost frantic look.

"Prove it?" You repeat. Confused.

Steve nods, gives you one last look, then disappears below the surface. He's in the water. Suddenly, two hands grab your thighs and start moving up. You breathe rapidly, scanning your surroundings to make sure no soul can catch you. Shame washes over you and you give a little tap on Steve's shoulder, there in the water.

He straightens up immediately, his eyes opening wide and scanning yours for a clue. "What are you doing?" you ask with feigned innocence, aware of what's coming. Steve studies your face carefully, as if trying to gauge the seriousness behind this question. Yet, it is indeed serious.

"I'm going to entertain you. That's the deal, right? Trust me." Steve repeats, flashing another slightly cheesy smile before taking a deep breath, diving back into the water.

You feel his hands on your thighs again, but this time, he intensifies his movements. His hands slide upward and grab the edges of your panties, you shiver and press your thighs together, surprised by the gentleness of his touch under the water. It gets even hotter down there.

You quickly catch on. This is a first-time experience. You dread saying it out loud, but in reality, no man has ever dared to approach you to take off your panties the way Steve is doing. It looks like he's wrapping it in his hand, his fist pressed against your hip, which he holds firmly at the same time.

He must have been a formidable swimmer in his club. It's impressive to see him stay underwater without needing to surface every two minutes.

You feel his free hand gently but confidently parting your thighs, while his thumb presses on your sensitive spot. You also feel his mouth placing a kiss on the inside of your thigh. Underwater, he takes his time, as if everything is going well. On your side, you slip two fingers into your mouth to stifle your moans.

You've had plenty of opportunities to pleasure yourself thinking about him, Steve. No man had ever been this close to your intimacy, kissing your thigh or making you feel this heat underwater, trembling at the thought of an upcoming orgasm. No man, except Steve Harrington, at this very moment.

This was undeniably a dream. One moment he hates you, the next he's placing kisses on the inside of your thighs, while applying pressure with his thumb on your trembling clit. The idea of doing this underwater would never have crossed your mind. It's simply absurd. Not anymore.

Steve doesn't rush. He kisses, licks, presses. Finally, his mouth reaches your center. You breathe rapidly. It's burning, even under this ice-cold water. Your two fingers, plunged into your mouth, become covered in saliva as you try to suppress any moan that might escape your trembling lips.

Quickly, Steve hurries to place one of your legs on his shoulder, giving him a better angle of play. His tongue unfolds with remarkable precision, as if he's used to doing this.

At first, it's a slow and warm sensation, you feel his tongue pressing on your bud, making you realize this is indeed real. A shockwave runs through your body, your fingers in your mouth replaced by the palm of your hand, muffling your moans.

It's nice, so exciting. His tongue traces your pussy, seeking your reaction even underwater. You feel the pressure of his grip on your thigh, both firm and gentle. The environment around you completely fades away. Everything is focused only on you two. Even though you're aware of the risks of this situation, the possibility of being caught intensifies the pleasure, creating an electric tension with every movement of his tongue.

Suddenly, he captures your little mound of flesh with his lips, holding it delicately, sucking it while circling his tongue in regular patterns. He does all this as you bring your pelvis even closer to his face, while your hands plunge underwater to grab his hair with some firmness, you release them, being gentler shortly after.

He continues relentlessly. Sweat begins to accumulate in the hollow between your breasts, on your neck, all over your body, which starts to vibrate with pure pleasure. You no longer feel any other sensation than the intense pleasure Steve is giving you with his tongue.

You feel his tongue move from your clit to your hole, before he suddenly returns, raising your pelvis closer to his mouth, eager for your unbearable pleasure — just like you.

You feel his firm grip around your waist, which almost makes you cry. He continues his torture without pause, not stopping, absorbing every drop that escapes from you.

Your face is exposed to the moonlight as he pulls away, releasing his hold on you to surface. You want to hide your face when he looks at you, the moonlight doesn't help. He'll notice your red complexion, your lips wet with saliva, your eyes shining with post-orgasm fever, your ragged breathing.

Steve does exactly this assessment, his face turning to you again. You watch him carefully before looking away, too embarrassed. This is just a movie, not reality. You repeat this to yourself, until Steve's voice echoes in your ears, his hands again wrapping around your waist. "That was fun, wasn't it?" You feel his rapid breathing, just like yours, against your cheek, while his hands help you put your panties back on. You assist him in this task, although your movements are quite hesitant.

You simply nod, without verbal response, completely unable to make your voice heard. You only produce "mm, mm..." in repetition, it's the only sound you can make. His cheek, irritated by the shave he did earlier in the day, brushes against yours, while his lips land on the hollow of your neck, licking and sucking.

A low, rough moan escapes your lips, while you feel the smile of Steve pulsing on your skin. He slowly approaches your ear, whispering barely audible words, the warmth of his mouth blending gentleness and tension. His arms surround you. You manage to catch the words: "Beautiful," "Sweet," "Look at you."

You are in a trance-like state, as if dreaming, eyes half-closed, while Steve's hands explore your body. Your head rests on his shoulder, you struggle to control your breathing. Being in his arms is so nice. It's almost incredible.

"You can't be serious." You whisper, barely audible. You hear him. Steve laughs softly, his fingers caressing your trembling cheek. "We should leave here." You then murmur, feeling Steve's body press closer to yours in his arms.

He doesn't let you go. Not like you imagined. He should have let you go. You let yourself go and remember you're just a girl who keeps messing up. He's going to remind you.

No, Steve doesn't do that. He doesn't do that when you both get out of the water, you in his arms, letting you find solid ground, near the lake, barefoot. You feel everything. Every branch, you also feel your feet sinking into the lake mud you're creating.

Steve doesn't say a word as he hands you your dress, when he sees you staying still, he takes your dress and easily slips it on you. He also doesn't react when putting his own clothes back on, his beach shorts, his black sleeveless t-shirt and jacket. You're stunned by what just happened between you two. This shouldn't have happened so quickly, he must hate you like this morning. This is an illusion. He's pretending. Steve is mocking you.

Your eyes leave the lake to land on Steve, who, with his fingers, tries to fix his wet and messy hair, the result of your own handling moments before. The intensity of your gaze is such that you feel like you're in a dream. The moon, little by little, is hidden by fleeting clouds, you continue to watch him until the light illuminating your face goes out.

A throat clearing draws your attention, you turn to see Steve in the darkness. It's totally dark. It's so dark it would be hard to even see a deer, but you can still make out the serious expression on his face.

"Everything okay?" asks Steve, visibly concerned. He slowly approaches you. You simply nod, then turn toward him, orienting your whole body in his direction. In the darkness, he smiles at you, then looks up at the sky, just like you do. "About that, it was... it was good."

Steve tells you this as if it's an ordinary thing, without any importance. You immediately stare at him with eyes burning with rage. Just good? "Is that what you tell your sluts?" You let out, letting the anger show in your voice, which is usually soft and still trembling.

Steve stares at you with a strange look, "I've never talked about them... I'm only talking about you here... I don't see what the problem is?" He asks, you can see his smile disappear in the blink of an eye.

You roll your eyes, a bit too fierce. Just enough. "So it's just good, just good... that's how you talk about a sausage roll. You only see me as meat, is that a good meal for you?" As you approach his body, you get tangled in your words, while he stays still.

Facing him, you raise your face to meet his gaze which is looking down to see you better. You can't ignore his sarcastic laugh, "Why do you insist on ruining every interaction between us? The other day and now, do you have a problem with me?" he asks, his eyes showing excessive seriousness in this darkness.

You pull away from his overly victim-like attitude and head toward your shoes left a bit further away. "You know, it was a mistake, I already knew I was going to regret it and I do regret it." You declare, while ignoring the shiver running through your ribs and breasts, making you squeeze your thighs at the thought of him, but you refuse to lower yourself to him again.

His body moves close to yours, he whispers in your ear, "Are you going to tell me you regret that. That I didn't make you moan while I was licking you underwater... how much you were shaking—" You put your black flip-flops back on, trying not to imagine what he's describing, it's harder than you thought.

"I regret it." You repeat, Steve's humorless laugh echoes in your head. He moves even closer, his chest pressed against your back, you feel a sensation growing in your lower back. You close your eyes, trying to ignore his excitement. "You feel it, don't you? I know you liked it, how much you grabbed my hair to make me keep sucking and taking all your juice—"

"Shut up!" You spin around quickly to move away, but one of his hands grabs your waist, propelling you against his chest. You breathe rapidly, looking at him with astonishment, "Rob's waiting for me, I have to go."

"You know Rob can wait."

You try to escape from his arms, at least in your mind, because in truth, your body wraps around his. His arms explore your silhouette, pulling you even closer to him. Even though his face is far from yours, you're aware he'll want to kiss you later. You catch him several times, his eyes sliding over your dry lips.

"Maybe it's time you looked for another girl, I'm not ready for this right now." That's what you try to express as you pull away. Finally, he lets you go after your words. His hands land on his hips as he scans the surroundings before hiding his face behind his two hands. Desperation shows on his face. You realize your words don't make sense. You're going too far.

"I don't want any other girl, it's you I want." He almost throws it at you as a reproach, stepping two big steps forward to be right in front of you, at a distance too intimate. You swallow, look down, embarrassed by your own words. But before you can react, Steve grabs your wrist and suddenly pulls you against him, his warm breath brushing your lips. His face gets close to yours, desire emanating from his gestures and his gaze.

"If you want me... why do you act like such an asshole?" You whisper near his lips, accusing him. Steve steps back, stares at your lips and releases your wrist.

"Maybe it's because you don't make it easy for me." He simply tells you, as if it's obvious between you. You're aware of that, but he's wrong to behave so badly with you for that reason.

"That's not right, you're really an idiot, Steve. Are you so blind? You can't understand my—" you start to reveal your secret to him, but a sound of branches from the forest draws your attention. You both turn toward the sound and see a female face watching you with curiosity.

Jasmine.

You swallow loudly and stare at her intensely, as she realizes you're both watching her, she disappears into the woods. She runs. Did she see everything? That little pest! Is Steve really that captivating? Your eyes widen at the thoughts racing through your head.

Did she see you both in the lake? Did she catch you in the act? Or did she overhear your conversation with Steve? Either way, it's really awful to imagine. It's an invasion of your privacy. Your heart races, looking up, you already meet Steve's gaze fixed on you.

"Did she see us?" you ask without missing a second. Steve furrows his brows, glances at the forest, then scans the surroundings before looking at the lake. "I don't think she saw everything." He speaks in a low voice, looking at the trees, where the girl disappeared.

"She's going to tell Erica... then Robin." You whisper, head tilted, completely swallowed by panic. Your eyes get lost in the woods. She's no longer there, you already imagine she whispered to Erica what she saw. This is awful.

"I'll go get her." Just as you're about to head toward the forest, determined to find her and ask her to keep quiet, Steve starts following you. He moves behind you, you turn around a bit as you continue walking. "What are you doing?" you ask him, looking straight ahead into the darkness, when Steve catches your attention with his eyes.

"What about you?" Steve asks in turn.

You take a deep breath and tell yourself, "It's time to tell her to shut up." Your feet are wet in your flip-flops, your dress sticking to your body, your hair also damp. You're perfectly aware that the idea of approaching the fire in a similar state to Steve will only raise suspicions, that this Jasmine will end up being right.

You nevertheless hear Steve's laugh. You stop, turn around to look at him — your expression is serious, without a hint of amusement, unlike his.

"You're really going to try to shut that girl up?" You simply nod, determined. You're about to reply, Steve steps closer and whispers, "You'd better go back to your cabin, take a shower, put on clean clothes and go to bed. If neither of us says anything, that is, if we stay quiet, the girl can say whatever she wants, no one will ever believe her. That's a great idea, right?" Steve gives you a big smile, hands on his hips, proud of his plan.

You smile at him, a laugh escaping your lips, glance over your shoulder, then look back at Steve, "If Robin hears about this, she'll believe it one hundred percent. Actually, you don't know her as well as you think." You point out.

Steve's eyes go wide and he declares, "I think it's you who doesn't know her as well as I do, little one." He tries again. You give him a dark look, then turn away definitively to head toward your own plan — not the one he had in mind.

Steve's whistle sounds, unambiguously signaling you to come back to him. Yet, you don't.

You continue on your way. Some branches catch you, making you lose your balance and sometimes trip. But that doesn't bother you much. You walk until the campfire. Walking, you clearly hear the steps approaching behind you. Steve hasn't taken his eyes off you since you spoke to him.

The sky is now deep black, dark, except for the bright glints of scattered stars here and there. The campfire has disappeared, extinguished. The kids are gone, as are Erica, her friends, and Robin. A wave of panic hits you, causing twists in your stomach.

She's already in the cabin.

"Well, it seems tonight you won't manage to find that girl like you imagined." Steve approaches you. His cologne still lingers in the air, you can't ignore it. Turning around to only see his profile, he pivots shortly after to look at you with a very serious face, even though you can sense a glint of amusement hidden behind his expression.

"Great, that's exactly what you wanted. I still regret it." You repeat the words you said near the lake. Steve gives you an intrigued look, scans the surroundings before the scent of his smell seeps even more into your nostrils. It's intoxicating.

"Let me handle all this. Get to bed or take a shower and stop telling yourself stories... you know damn well you don't regret it. You know it, just like I do." His breath caresses your cheeks, still soaked with lake water. His eyes dive into yours, you take a deep breath to avoid staring at his lips.

"You're not in my head." You murmur. He hears you, steps closer, you back away, blinking several times. "But I know how to read your eyes." Steve calmly answers, you're left speechless.

"That's completely absurd, you say that to all those girls and you're surprised none of them stick around." Looking up, you laugh without really finding it funny. You're being cruel, you know that. Steve, he's a real player, Robin's told you that many times.

Steve jokes with you, a bit bitter. "Think what you want. Hurry up and leave before Robin comes looking for you." He points to something behind one of your shoulders, then steps back, not giving you another look. You feel a slight disappointment toward him, but you remember that Steve isn't used to getting attached to girls. All this is because of Nancy.

You swallow your pride and walk away in the opposite direction from the one he took, heading toward your cabin. Glancing back only once, you see he's already far away. He's no longer paying attention to you.

Walking, you keep reassessing your day. You wonder how much your behavior has stooped because of him. Really, you should have refused his invitation to the lake. Not give in to his teasing, or to his hands on your thighs. The 16-year-old girl would have jumped out the window at the thought of engaging in R-rated activities with Steve Harrington, the king of high school — now fallen from his throne.

Opening your cabin door, a wave of heat hits your still-damp face. Walking slowly and hesitantly, your eyes explore the space. You feel suffocated, keeping the lake secret with Steve. In the bed, Robin is already settled, TV on, playing words you can't understand.

You don't know where to start. The bathroom, of course. Go there. Take a shower. Put on your pajamas...

"There you are finally back! Oh my god, what were you doing in that forest? If you had heard the end of my story, you wouldn't have gone there." Robin speaks, without having any idea what happened at the lake.

You turn your face toward her, struggling to swallow and offering a shy smile, not daring to say a word. No, your mind seems paralyzed, unable to make your tongue work. Meanwhile, Robin is absorbed in the TV, where a horror movie is playing. After a heavy silence, she looks up and stares at you intensely. Her brows furrow, waiting for a reaction from you.

You start stammering, "I—I'm sorry, I just wanted to go out... think about something else..." Robin raises an eyebrow, her expression showing a lack of conviction. You continue with a nervous laugh, "Horror stories aren't really my thing." A big smile appears on your face.

She looks you up and down, "But why are you soaking wet like that? Did you go swimming?" your friend exclaims, clearly surprised, a surprised laugh escaping her lips. You laugh too, your laugh betrays some nervousness. You're afraid she might start asking questions about you. That she'll guess what Steve did to you.

"Yeah. I felt like diving into the lake not far from here... it was good!" you declare. You feel like slapping yourself for repeating what Steve told you about what he did to you underwater. It was good. Really good.

Robin is still laughing at what you just said, you take the chance to run to the bathroom. Just before opening the door, you hear her voice again, "Did you see Steve? He also went into the woods, I don't know what he was doing there, but he ditched us like that after not even 3 minutes of you leaving." She wiggles her eyebrows.

You freeze, the door half-open. A fake smile appears on your lips, you turn your head to look at her properly, lying, "Oh really? I don't know... I didn't see him at all." You're lying.

Bad liar, Robin raises an eyebrow, her eyes moving from the TV to your face. She doesn't seem to really agree with that. "That doesn't surprise me about him..." she mutters under her breath, you hear her.

"What?" you ask, turning toward her bed, which is a twin of yours, yours being right next to the bathroom. It seems you didn't catch what Robin is trying to say.

Robin looks at you with a serious expression, "I would have thought he'd act a certain way... I don't know... maybe apologize for his rude attitude toward you this morning...", she shrugs, glances at the small TV while playing with some strands of her messy bun, "...or apologize for the fact that idiot has been ignoring you for weeks when he kept asking me how you were doing... I don't know." You feel like you've been electrocuted.

You swallow, watching her carefully, she's again captivated by her movie, your heart races.

"He was asking about me."

Oh poor girl.

Robin turns her gaze to you as soon as you finish speaking. Her face is pale, as if she just said a fateful sentence. You stare at her carefully, hoping desperately she'll give you something other than what Steve did these past weeks. You're waiting. Waiting.

Robin lets out a sigh, her hands dancing over her face, betraying her tiredness. "I'm exhausted, I'm saying nonsense, you know—actually, no, I—forget it." She waves her hand, as if brushing away her words. You stay frozen, confused by her strange attitude. This information, you can't just leave it aside.

You want to ask another question, get an explanation, push, but your friend sinks back into her bed, the TV putting her back into a hypnotic state.

End of discussion.

You let out a sigh, your energy level way too low to tease your friend. If this conversation has to end here, so be it. Maybe it's fate. It has to happen this way. The less you know, the better. Isn't that what they say?

You direct your gaze to the window above your bed. Darkness surrounds you. You stare at it, peering into the shadows while thinking about that one person who gives you a headache just by thinking about them.

After a yawn, you turn and head toward the bathroom, ready to shower, as Steve advised you.